Summary- Is it happiness if it asks for with tears of blood? Is it victory if it tastes pungent anyway?
Is it defeat if you are the last standing in the battlefield? Is it the end if it hasn't begun yet?

A/N- Hold up before you guys rush in. Can anyone figure out in the chapter summary I referred to which character in which line? Tell me in your comments of your victories and defeats!

Chapter 15- of All Eternity

Teddy had been delighted when gran pulled him out of the lessons; his fingers were starting to ache with having to write for so long! He bounded down the stairs broom in hand (just a bit hopeful). Within moments he forgot it all, left it forgotten on the last step and bounded forward with a shriek. Gran rebuked him, but his Godfather took him up in his arms with a laugh.

Harry held him at an arm's length to look at him better and Teddy giggled at the familiar ritual.

"Merlin, is this my Godson?" His godfather gasped, "All tall and grown up? Andy, you sure this is him?"

Teddy nodded violently, "It is! It is!" He pouted, "You say it every time, Harry."

Harry smiled at him, "That's because you will always be my little twerp, Ted bear."

The boy sulked while the adults chuckled. Harry ruffled the pink hair fondly, "Andy says you have been practicing a lot. Do you want to show me what you got so far?"

The boy perked up, and bounded forward with a tight grasp on his godfather and the other on the broom, "There are so many things I have got to show you!"

He had missed his godfather so much.

Teddy might be six, but he was not an idiot. He had seen how gran had been upset, not mad, when Harry didn't come around anymore. He had heard how she would talk to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione with a scrunched up face. He didn't know everything that was going on, only that it had something to do with his godfather.

But they would all hush up whenever he showed up. It was so annoying!

Everyone treated him like a child, but not his godfather no matter how much he would tease him. Harry would say he had no idea how to talk to a child, but Teddy liked his way just fine. It was not as i-n-f-u-r-i-t-i-n-g as everyone else.

So Teddy was very happy Harry was back. But he smelled all wrong. He didn't say anything though, but waited till they were past the pond and on the wide fields. Besides he had other important things to say.

"You missed my birthday." He said quietly.

His godfather startled on his walk and then stopped. "Let's sit down a bit here, yeah?"

Teddy didn't mind.

Harry sat down beside him right on the dirt and grass without bothering with a scourgify, thus delighting his godson. They faced each other but the older one didn't speak immediately. That was alright; Teddy remembered Harry telling him that everyone needed a moment sometimes.

When Harry looked up, his eyes were bright green, "Teddy, you know I missed you a lot, don't you?"

The boy went silent before answering just as quietly, "Yeah?"

And then his godfather had gathered him up in his arms and teddy didn't mind despite the fact that he was all grown up now. This was important. Harry hugged him close and Teddy clutched his robes back. Harry was speaking in whispers, buried in his hair but Teddy could hear him just fine.

"Of course I did Ted bear. Never doubt that. Out of everyone else, you were the one I thought of the most. I couldn't breathe knowing you would be waiting for me, you know."

It was a tad uncomfortable how hard his godfather was squeezing him. But it was warm and his neck was getting wet and he had missed his godfather so he tried to keep from squirming. But...

Harry immediately pulled back.

When Teddy turned around, his godfather was smiling down at him, "I am sorry I missed your birthday, Teddy."

He ducked down, "It is alright."

Harry pinched his cheeks, "What a sweet godson I have."

Teddy giggled, "I am your only godson!"

Harry cuddled him closer and Teddy trustingly went, "And how lucky I am to have you. Never, ever doubt how much I love you, Teddy, no matter what happens."

Teddy frowned and opened his mouth to ask...

"Tell me what you got for your birthday?"

And the child forgot the momentary thought that had whispered doubt in his head a minute ago. He bounced on his Godfather's knees and with a wince Harry cajoled him to shift to the ground instead.

"Oh! I got a wand! It bubbles, hisses and eats up anything you point at and smells a lot of different things. It bubbled all over Uncle Bill's socks and then stunk up the room really fast. Gran told off Uncle Ron for enabling me! What does that mean?" Teddy frowned up at the other.

Harry gave a small snort, "He is making sure you are provided for all sorts of mischief."

Teddy nodded thoughtfully, "That would drive Gran around the bend." Before whispering conspiratorially to his godfather," It was loads fun though!"

Harry scratched a hand on his scalp and Teddy happily leaned into him, "Your Gran can't be as sprightly at her age, you see? Or I am sure, she would be right there encouraging you as well."

That made sense. Why, Harry and his friends still got up to all sorts of trouble didn't they? He had heard Mrs. Weasley speaking with Gran about it, sounding really exhausted. He will have to really sneaky too, so as not to worry them much.

Harry hummed, "What else?"

Teddy babbled on with a loud, raucous voice about the strutting dragon toy he got from their cousin Draco (Harry had a weird look on his face at that, Teddy ignored it), and the small cauldron and potion kit he got from aunt Hermione and the rant Gran had gone on again. Harry chuckled and murmured something, but let Teddy go on with his birthday celebration and the frozen pygmy puff that Gran had been about to carve into before it had thawed out. It had pretty icings and sparkles on it too, until it started shrieking and running and flinging the cake matter everywhere.

Uncle George had gotten into a lot of trouble for that.

Harry didn't interrupt him at all, kept listening quietly without looking any way bored or annoyed. He carried on until he had talked himself hoarse and simply flopped belly down on the ground.

His birthday had been perfect, and he had had lots of present but still missing his Godfather. Teddy wasn't at all mad about the presents. What he had really wanted was that person. Sure he had enjoyed himself and everyone had made it really fun, and Teddy hadn't felt at all like the only kid when his other cousins had been by as well. He was older than them all and Teddy had puffed out with how grown up he was even while playing with them.

But he had missed his Godfather, the only person who didn't always treat him like a child. Whenever Harry looked at him, Teddy felt as if he was the only important thing in the entire room, even when all his uncles. Cousins and their families were over! It made him really happy.

Teddy wanted to blurt it all out, wanted to hug and cling to him and never let him go. But Gran had once sat him down and talked to him about why Harry stayed away all the time, why he would come around only so few times. She had talked to him as if she didn't expect him to understand.

But Teddy wasn't five anymore. He could wait for him he must.

"Sounds like you were well taken care of." Harry murmured so faintly Teddy was sure he was talking to himself.

Teddy frowned, with a mind to say how much he had missed him. He kept quiet and let his Godfather snuggle him to his side.

His Godfather still smelled wrong.

Tomarryyy-tomaarrry—tomaaarrryyyy-

The centaurs didn't at all care about the wizards trespassing in their lands. Harry cringed slightly at the baleful stare of yet another one that trotted past him for no reason but to draw his attention towards how the sharp end of his spear glinted even in the sparse light.

The night had been dark, but will o' the wisps illuminated the glade instead with their starlight. They darted here and there, curious about the cluster of centaurs engaged in various tasks or perhaps to mimic the flashes of a falling star. Globes of white light floated around their heads of their own volitions (some would float into the forest and never come back); Harry was really curious about the kind of magic associated.

He refrained from drawing undue attention to himself; any more than already present that is.

The horde was very different from the ones he had known from his Hogwarts. They were even less friendly than Bane; Harry had truly thought that no centaur could loathe wizards as much as that one had. He stood corrected. Their weapons seemed different; for, they preferred the close melee that spears and swords would draw rather than the long range weapons like bows and arrows that their distant cousins carried. They were noticeably a very different species; while the brave Firenze had been exiled with a hoof imprint on his chest for his sympathy towards the wizards, such foolishness in this flock would invite a stab to the traitor most likely.

Not to speak of their horns! The centaurs carried them with all the pride of an arrogant bull (Harry was very careful not to gape openly not unlike his one best friend). Unbidden in his thoughts, he imagined a dominance fight between two centaurs with their horns locked in.

He huffed out a snicker and eyes narrowed in his direction.

Well then. Harry strode confidently towards the closest cluster that was not occupied with preparing the glade with oddest things, utterly disregarding when the air around him thickened with deadly hostility.

He might as well get some information, because apparently even becoming bowtruckle larvae was not going to have any effect on the hostility directed towards them.

He didn't cross his arms, didn't draw his wand. With a posture open but not challenging he looked up at them with a nonchalance that made their tails bristle. "What would happen if the ritual somehow goes wrong?"

A dark centaur with horns reminiscent of the minotaur painting in the Hogwarts hissed out,"Do you challenge our capability, wizard?" The last word was made up of less syllables and more venom.

Harry met the spiteful stare evenly, "I do not doubt your capability, not at all. I don't trust you to keep my wellbeing a high priority either." He waved away the hissed advances of the offended and continued, "Again, this is not about whether you can but whether you want to. Don't tell me your motive is altruistic, out of a true desire to help a wizard?"

Not all of them relaxed, but a chortle floated out nevertheless. Harry focused on the amused centaur, sensing mild tolerance at best. He was of stocky build and had a pleasant enough face, but what would draw and keep one's attention was the volume of wild hair and beard on that man.

The scraggly man comported himself and restricted to a smirk, "Very astute. A slight alteration in the alignment in the stars and you will be torn to pieces between the two worlds. A hitch in breath in the air and you will be left with your soul in one stream while your body drools vacantly." Harry shivered unconsciously at the fate not unlike that of a Dementor's Kiss victim.

The centaurs relaxed at his reaction, even the ones that had been almost hostile with the centaur that had seemingly agreed with Harry. The former tapped his front leg smugly, "The possibilities are endless and yes, so is the temptation."

"Well then, I suppose I would better get to know of all the important temptations you might face and what they might mean for me."

Sneering, they turned away.

In the end however Harry had persuaded them to unveil some of the secrets (bothered them until they gave in), had learnt about the hundred of ways the ritual could go wrong. Were it for any other purpose or of less dire an ache in the heart, Harry might have cared more, but the self-preservation instinct was never the one he had cared to cultivate.

Tomarryyy-tomaarrry—tomaaarrryyyy-

Many a times Harry opened his mouth to say something but the words remained stuck behind a block of mortified uncertainty. His friends had stayed with him despite everything and ever since he had entered the Wizarding world, there was nothing of import he had truly cared to hide away. If he must, he would only hide the shame of the trolls that dotted his potions essays.

Everything else... had been circumstances beyond his control and apprising his friends of the situation had not taken courage so much as a simple desire to lessen the burden on self.

This though...

This was not merely a circumstance beyond his control, more than a stumble. Back to the war-torn world of his, steadily healing but still hurting; he felt the shame of his actions return multitude. He felt the disappointment of the dead in his awakening nightmares the dark of his nightmares. He felt the loss of the innocence in the weary orphan child as a gritting attack on his heart.

He could see Hermione was curious, could see the countless theories their imagination must have taken them. They had no idea he had been gallivanting in a time far away, let alone precisely half a century.

He didn't even know how to start, without coming off as having indulged in a quite lot of questionable substances in his time away.

So he stayed quiet, stepping casually through Hermione's probing queries and squirming uncomfortably against Mrs. Weasley's woeful face.

While Hermione's understanding was something he wanted, there was no way he could stampede past the sceptical blockade the witch always maintained against the impossible.

It had been Ron, whose behaviour proved to be the most perplexing however. Considering his own reticence, he couldn't confront the man candidly. Even after all these years, the two wizards were no less awkward when it came to naked emotions.

So he ignored the sometimes thoughtful stare and heavy weight upon his heart when the other would clasp his shoulder wordlessly.

Regardless, Harry was joyous, in the company of his friends, his family and back to the warmth of his home.

There was nothing else he cared for.

Tomarryyy-tomaarrry—tomaaarrryyyy-

In another time and another place, nightmare stalked through undergrowths and towering trees. The forest was silent, all living being holding their breath, fearful of the catastrophe that loomed closer and closer.

Their hearts didn't soothe even after its malice had walked past them. The earth itself seemed to have been steeped in the coagulating spite. They dared not even wonder of whoever was the nightmare was seeking. The colony of the centaurs heard the call of the harbinger too late. The warriors stiffened, letting the infirm lag behind, unsurprised as they were. Mars had been bright for a fortnight by then; it had been only a matter of time.

Nothing breathed out loud.

The twisted caricature of a monster in a shell of wizard arrived and with it, their compliance was forced through screaming mouths and crushed knees.

"Come now, surely you have been expecting this? Why didn't you flee already if not you are not accepting your...hm...due punishment."

Many bared their teeth in defiance and the Dark Lord shattered the strong jaws. The wise and the venerable watched the carelessly restrained violence in the carefree posture and prayed, prayed to the stars and the moon, prayed to the earth and their ancestors.

He stopped before the chieftain of the herd. Basilus tried to keep his nerves placid even as his palms sweated, the magical ropes sliding through the slippery fear.

He will bare his throat first before letting any of his own fall.

The night terror in front of him scoffed, "Very gallant of you. But that wouldn't let the lesson latch onto your soul, would it?" The handsome face turned monstrous in the gloomy light of scattered stars and Basilus flinched away.

He didn't look at anyone else, refused to draw the attention away from him to the herd, refused to see the condemnation in the faces of all who he was supposed to protect. He would gladly bear the burden of it all.

So he opened his mouth only to yell when the scorching end of a wand pierced though his bearded jaw.

"I would rather have the truth, if you would be so polite." Spoke the soft, slimy voice.

He had scarcely drawn a breath before there was only excruciating pain. Raging ambers slid through his eyes, and went deeper still towards the back of his skull; never reaching the end however and simply meandering around the fertile place it had deemed its playground. It didn't end, even as Basilus babbled through pleas and shrieks of mercy. The agony dove another inch into his brain.

He could feel the rest of his body protesting at the violation, could feel his stomach rolling and his heart bolting up, threatening to slide past the throat as well.

Nothing so happened. Only the pain remained loyal to him.

As unexpectedly it had started, so it did end. The chieftain of the centaurs of the Misty Forest fell to the ground, eyes staring mindlessly to the heavens and tremors of the horror imprinted in his body and soul after the wretched violation of a callous Legilimency.

He didn't register the soft footfalls as the nightmare walked away from him, didn't hear the screeches of a very familiar voice.

Tomarryyy-tomaarrry—tomaaarrryyyy-

It had been seven decenniums. Harry would have been amused at the repetition of the number seven, but the he was far too emotionally exhausted.

Hermione and Ron knew the truth of it, in its entirety. He couldn't not confide in them, his confidants for life. Neither did they understand (or even cared to) his quiet but stubborn defence of the wizard who was portrayed as the dreadful nightmare of the century, one that had for once united all magical creatures and species in their seditious resistance, nor had they been amused at their bizarre relationship.

If it could be called that.

But they had not left him to contemptuous dismissals. They stayed, with pursed lips and averted eyes, but never left him behind. Ron preferred to remain deaf and blind. Harry didn't argue, for he would be disgusted as well with the person who cared for the monster. Hermione appealed to his logic, and intelligence, to show the emptiness in the soul of a Dark Lord.

(The magic had not wilted from the flower torn from the May wreath. Hermione was blind to the meaning but Harry couldn't)

Mrs. Weasley relented after a healthy flush had returned to his cheeks and appetite to a spoiled body. Kreacher had only gleefully assisted in that endeavour, ignoring the bemoaning wizard at this siege.

Harry had thought, well he hadn't known what he had expected, maybe to return to a world that had changed so drastically that he would take some time to regain his lost footing? But it had all remained in the standstill that Harry had known whole his life. Change was slow in the Wizarding world and it won't be completed in one lifetime only. Considering the significant lives of witches and wizards sans unfortunate accidents, their earth continued in its lethargic pace.

It was comfortable to him, to find his home unchanged in his absence. Tidy and familiar despite his long absence. In his memories it had all been a halcyon time lost forever to time. Reality was not idyllic, of course not, but perfect with its dashes of absurdity.

He didn't care for the entourage that tended to follow him in public as if only the day before he had vanquished a Dark Lord though.

Often he wandered alone, disappearing from time to time wanting to breathe in solitude awhile. Ron and Hermione were not very fond of it, but holding Ministry high posts as they were they didn't realize the true extent.

(He had lasted a matter of mere couple months before he had surrendered to pilfering through memories that wouldn't leave him be and torturing himself with visiting the barren places that seemed so vibrant in another time.)

His godson still adored him with all his innocent heart, didn't replace the void of his Godfather with any other. He was tad bewildered that Harry insisted on seeing him every week when the lad had gotten used to his months of absence due to his responsibility as the ambassador. Teddy had taken to it enthusiastically; his Godfather's spontaneous adventures to strange places and his entirely undisguised displays of affection.

And the sweet boy totally ignored Fred's taunts that he was still such a baby. Fred was of course mad that Harry didn't hug him just that often.

Harry would make sure the boy would be taken care of no matter what.

Mrs. Weasley kept saying he had his father's mouth. Andy said Teddy had his mother's colour. Harry saw only his adorable, babbling and occasionally not-a-baby-anymore Godson alone.

(Nestled in his godson's ever changing curls as he listened to the faithful narration of every moment spent from when Teddy roused from his bed. And often when caring past the relief, he was seized with painful guilt for using Teddy this way.)

Harry had gone to the forbidden forest, to speak to the centaurs; to very carefully probe their memories fifty years earlier. They were marginally welcoming to him than any other witch or wizard, but no more than a step below cordial. He had wondered as well if in their knowledge they had an incident as rare as his had been, but Firenze the disgraced centaur who had not carried as much of a species bias cared to talk to him frankly.

Grimmauld place had welcomed him gleefully back; Harry had done the absolutely correct thing in not letting himself be swayed by the poisonous words of the Dark Lord.

He had been home. Hadn't he?

What was he doing then on this night that 7 decenniums would flit by, coercing a reluctant favour from Firenze?

What was he doing swaying in the dark of this night, as dark as it had been the night of his departure, his steps carrying him away dispassionately; his numb heart leaving everything behind with each stumble.

(Numb had been how he had wanted the last few days, lest even the slight whisper of emotion leave him crumbled on the floor.)

He disapparated away from the quiet forest and the ritual ground faded from glow of completion. The crack on the ground marking a fissure in his heart as well as his life.

With each step, Harry felt a shard of the apathy fall away, flooding him with copious self-loathing and hopelessness. He followed blindly to whence his heart led, not giving it any rational attention.

The veils from his eyes didn't fall; they were ripped away instead when he finally stopped in front of the inconspicuous looking manor. And then it wasn't numbness holding his emotions prisoner and they let themselves flare with the wounded shriek of a tortured heart.

By the time Harry had reached the abandoned hallways of the manor, he had fairly worked himself to blind hysterical rage. When the sole inhabitant of the manor appeared, the reason for all his vexation and despair, Harry responded with nary a syllable, but the violet twisting magic carrying the charm to blast back the offending person.

Something exploded, but it was not the infuriating wizard he had been aiming at. So Harry took aim again and brilliant lights played with his emotion as they were thrown ceaselessly. He vented his fury again and again, nonverbally for his lips trembled with hopelessness. His eyes had blurred to deceive him of the other wizard's position and his hands were hardly steady, but the curses flew precise and powerful and the need to unleash all which had been shielded in a polite cage bled through his wand, his magic swirling about with equal fervour.

He never noticed that the dark wizard didn't ever answer with offense, but casual discard. Each spells were averted relatively harmlessly to elsewhere, the configuration of the magical house altered as ruin rendered its pride.

He never noticed that the other wizard approached him steadily, the increasing intensity of the attacks ignored and each step brought him all that closer.

So, his wand was still lit a poisonous yellow when he was pulled to an unyielding embrace and in astonishment he could only respond with a sharp exhale. Surprise wouldn't hold him for long however, because caged as he was only heightened his distress.

This cage was what felt overwhelmingly tight around his heart; for the sake of his golden cage he had forsaken his world. His family, his life: this cage in the arms of the most terrible Dark Lord to ever write the history.

How selfish had he been?

He struggled in his confinement, with hardly any finesse, fright to keep a shard of sanity at least buoyed. The final desolation of before the willing sacrifice walks away to its end.

But the bars around him hardly yielded and Harry didn't know when he transitioned to physically venting his emotions, in forms of closed fists and shaking hands, in hitting that body that wouldn't budge, wouldn't yield under his unrelenting hits.

He didn't know either when he had stated screaming IhateyouhateyouhateyouyoudespicableIdespiseyou

Harry did feel however when the arms cradled him gently despite the harsh reception, restrained as he might be, desperate he might be to envision these hands as a physical form of the cage he had chosen after all.

His sobs lessened, the choking lungs felt less threatened and Harry clutched at the expensive robes in his unsteady hands before pulling slightly back. Marvolo was utterly dispassionate, unaffected by the storm of spell fire he had been attacked with or the hail of devolved emotions he had been wretched with.

The detached expression only violated the sanctity of his sanity even further. A closed fist hit the firm body again, harsh in its intention, timid in realization.

"I hate you. Do you think your words have no consequence? You have no consequence? You are chaos; your hands can bring nothing but destruction of dreams. I didn't ask for you. I never asked for you. Not now, not then. Why do you keep taking over my life, making it all about you? What right do you have to invade my mind, my soul? I thought I had rid of you, but you weren't satisfied by ruining my life once, were you? I had a life, I had a dream. I had my own world, responsibilities. Now I left them all alone! And now..." Harry continued with horrified realization, "It's all gone! Oh, I am such a self-centred...

Marvolo was holding on to the distraught wizard with eyes alight with an unknown emotion, "Were you happy? "

"That is none of your business." Harry shrieked at the presumptuous man, "You have no say in whether I am happy or miserable. It is my life, my choice. You don't get to… you can't take away that…"

"It is your choice. Besides, you can always visit there, can't you?"

Harry punched him in the jaw.

"No." Harry breathed, "It wouldn't have been a choice at all then." Because he knew, even as he had subconsciously discarded the centuride's suggestions and taken Marvolo's gift with him anyway. His mind had taken some time to catch up when his heart and soul were already decided.

He knew precisely how selfish he had been. It hadn't been a matter of mere enjoyment, being happy.. No. He could have let himself be without the thunderous passion the Dark Lord woke in his veins, if that was all it had been.

It wasn't. It was a matter of self-preservation, of survival. A matter of breathing life in...

He knew and yet his fingers curled around the vest balefully. "Not when it is you involved, I can't think rationally when you are concerned. I can't see anyone. I can't, not anymore. Nothing was enough. How dare you relegate my family to..." Harry couldn't acknowledge that horrifying thought, "Are you happy now that you have ruined my life? I hate you, obnoxious bastard. I hate you..."

Marvolo curled a reverent hold on his nape, all his unruly hair having been crudely fastened with kanzashi that the Dark Wizard had given him last Mabon.

The Dark Wizard saw the surrender in every trembling vein of his prey, even as the mouth continued to move in denial. He didn't care to hurry along the realization. Didn't coax the struggling wizard to soft acceptance.

He waited instead, for the man to come to him by his own pace.

"Do you really?"

With tears brimming over, the Gryffindor felt his feet poise over the abyss. But it was a delusion indeed to think that he could ever deny the truth, when he had already fallen.

No, he had willingly stepped into the cavern, drawn by that darkness. It was time Harry accepted the truth that he had always known. Marvolo had been the catalyst to draw him, yes. But it was his heart that followed the lure.

It was time to accept the responsibility of his choice, to stop assigning blame for his actions upon the Dark Wizard.

(Acceptance was the last step to grief and loss, was it not?)

"No." He whispered.

It wasn't the Gryffindor courage that aided him, but simply the irrepressible wish to show this person the truth of his intention.

Harry tilted his face upward, raising to his toes a little. One of his hands moved to support his unsteady position, curling around a strong shoulder and thus his lips met the frozen ones of the Dark Wizard with a gentleness that spoke of timidity and of adoration.

It was not perfect. It was the barest touch of lips, chaste and sweet. It was wet, glistening with tears whose salt he could still taste. It was the slightest whisper of intentions.

Then Marvolo moved. A greedy hand supported his waist, crushing him so, raising him so, and denying him the need to totter upon startled limbs.

An unforgiving grip cradled the quivering jaws and pressed down upon the gentle offering.

Harry inhaled sharply or perhaps gasped. But his bottom lip was nevertheless taken prisoner and worshipped so ardently. He was catapulted into chaotic dreams, the miasma of sensations wrecking brutal assault upon him. It never went deeper and was all the more unbelievable.

It was perfect.

Marvolo cradled him to the firm body and Harry felt himself lighter off the weight he never had known to have carried even.

Tomarryyy-tomaarrry—tomaaarrryyyy-

Marvolo smiled at the beautiful Hadrian Peverell strolling about his private garden, exclaiming still at its beauty.

In the warded locker of his desk, there was a very unremarkable galleon, inscribed not with the Goblin approved authenticity. At first glance it would seem to be an indulgence to sate the greed of a pureblood child; this frivolous coin that had nothing but a field of trotting ponies, crafted inside a delicately drawn circle.

At a closer look one might be startled by the humanoid faces on the 'ponies'.

A closer scrutiny still might confide in one the terror in the young faces.

The figures had shrunk in numbers since the Dark Lord had re-visited their elders. It was fortunate indeed, he mused thinking of the ones that scrambled away from his touch; that Hadrian had come to of him of his own volition. The herd might have had to sacrifice a life for every month they cost him, but they hadn't lost all of their progeny.

Their hatred had long since turned to abject terror and hopelessness. But then, to have the massacred flesh of their heirs on their hands, committed by their own hands... such agony had been more satisfying if he had cared to use the Cruciatus instead of the Imperius.

It was very fortunate... Because he would have traced the path of his beloved no matter, would have left ashes around to purge his own agony.

But Hadrian had returned to him.

Yes.

Not caring anymore of the future that didn't come to be, he walked away to join Hadrian, content that his possession, his lovely creature had come to claim the position he belonged in.

A/N- It has been awesome so far. And fun to be with you guys. Thanks for your support everyone and I am truly grateful for all the kind kind kudos and comments. I have the idea of a sequel but before that I am itching for the plot that I have had in my mind for months and I just gotta write it!
So its ciao for now. ^.^*