Title: My Evil Veela Mate

Author: Jaeye

Pairing/s: Voldemort/Harry

Warnings: Slash (male/male) relationships.

Disclaimer: HP and everything recognizable isn't mine.

Author's Note: Thanks for the visits and reviews guys! It really keeps me going :) I know things have been a little slow, romance-wise, but we're getting there. Happy Valentine's Day in advance, btw! :)

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Chapter 12: Sanctuary

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry woke coughing.

He could still taste the acrid smoke on the back of his tongue and hear the echoing screams. His head ached, and he gingerly put a hand to it. There was something wet and sticky matted into the hair at his temple and neck.

"Oh Harry, thank goodness you're alright!" Hermione threw herself onto him. She wasn't the only one by his bed. A full ring of faces were bent over him, including curiously enough, Nearly-Headless-Nick's slightly transparent one.

"It's about time you woke up, mate, otherwise you would have missed the Feast," Ron said lightly, though he wore an expression of profound relief.

Nearly-Headless-Nick looked a little disappointed, "That was quite a good hit, wasn't it? For a moment there, I thought it had taken your head off. Pity... you could have shared my Deathday celebration. oh well… I guess you could still come?" He looked hopefully at Harry. Behind him, Ron shook his head violently.

"What—" Harry looked about the room. He was in the Hospital Wing, with his friends around him and Madam Pomfrey bustling about. "What happened?" he demanded.

"You were hit by a pumpkin," Ginny said sympathetically. "It was quite a big one, we heard the crack all the way across the Hall."

"Oh… no..." Harry sat up, making them jump back. "How long have I been out? Where's Professor McGonagall?"

"It's been a few hours," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly, "You had a slight concussion, and I thought it would be better to let that heal before we woke you. How do you feel now?"

"I need to speak to Professor McGonagall," Harry insisted. "It's urgent!"

They looked blankly back at him, so he threw back the covers, jumped out of bed and took off at a run.

In no time at all, he was at the staff room, pounding on the door to be let in. It swung open and Professor Snape stepped out, looking dour and deeply annoyed. "Potter," he said slowly. "What are you doing here?"

Footsteps clattered to a stop behind Harry. "I need to speak to Professor McGonagall," he panted, not caring that Snape's look had turned derisive as he stared Harry up and down.

"As unfortunate as it is that you can't seem to avoid colliding into the pumpkins and destroying the Halloween decor," Snape drawled, "It is no reason for you to barge-"

"Did you feel it?" Harry interrupted him. "Did it—" he pointed at Snape's arm, "—call you to him? Did you know what he was going to do?" Harry couldn't control himself, and yelled the last few words so loudly that It echoed down the corridor. He was so angry that it seemed that sparks were flying before his vision.

Snape's eyes narrowed, and for a moment it looked as if he was going to shoot back an acidic reply. Then he slowly and silently slid back the sleeve of his robe to reveal the cool white flesh of his arm. The mark was a greyish green tattoo and not the raised red-black welt that it became when Voldemort summoned a Death Eater. It was dormant.

The sound of chairs being scraped back could be heard from beyond the staff door, and it swung open further to reveal Professor Lupin.

"Harry," he began, then stopped when he caught sight of Snape's arm. "Is something the matter?"

Harry hesitated. But it was too urgent—after all, Snape was here and not busy murdering students, and Dumbledore had trusted him. And it was too late anyway.

"Beauxbatons has fallen," Harry blurted. "Voldemort attacked with Giants."

Gasps sounded behind him, and Hermione grabbed his arm. "Some escaped, but I don't know how many. We need to help them."

Professor Lupin closed his eyes slowly and scrubbed a hand over his face, then seemed to gather himself. He exchanged looks with Snape and they both stepped into the hallway, shut the door and immediately began walking fast. "Come, Harry," Professor Lupin called back.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry watched as the Minister for Magic paced to and fro in Professor McGonagall's temporary Headmistress' office. While it was much smaller than Dumbledore's had been and had none of the silver instruments he had kept, it was well lit by sunlight, had several potted plants, tall floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and so many portraits crammed into it that it looked a bit like they were in an art gallery.

At the moment, everyone's attention was on an empty portrait by the windows overlooking the lake. The background in the picture was of a cluttered laboratory bathed in golden light. In the foreground was a table on which lay a crucible, a magical flame, a ruby pendant on a gold chain and several test tubes on a rack.

Rufus Scrimgeour made a turn then glanced again at the portrait. Still empty. He grimaced and checked his watch.

"Perhaps you would like to have a seat," Professor McGonagall offered.

"No, thank you but I haven't the time. When is that-"

A thickly bearded gentleman slipped into the frame and peered down at them. "I can't get in," He spoke with a slight French accent and wore pince-nez glasses on his nose. Harry recognised him as Nicolas Flamel from their first year, when he, Hermione and Ron had spent months trying to find out what had happened to the Philosophers Stone he had invented. "The portrait on ze ozzer side is not zhere. Something must have happened to it."

Scrimgeour scowled. He turned to Harry. "You are certain about what you saw?"

"A hundred percent sir," Harry answered. A flash of sorrow ran through him at the remembrance of Sirius and his mistake last year. But he was certain, so certain this time. "I saw him kill Professor Maxime, and Hagrid was there with Grawp, trying to help them escape."

Scrimgeour turned to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, I recommend you put this school on lockdown. I'll send a message to the French Ministry to offer support for Beauxbatons. If they verify the attack and request help, we will have to move quickly, but I will send some reinforcements to Hogwarts just in case he decides to come here next."

"Yes, Minister. I've made preparations for our protection but we would definitely welcome more assistance."

Scrimgeour nodded brusquely at them then threw Floo powder into the fire, stepped into the fireplace and spun away.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "It won't do to start panicking everyone before we hear back from the French Ministry, so please go to the Feast and try to act as normal. Keep this news to yourself for now—we should not disrupt the celebrations till we know more." She wrung her hands and pinched her lips together tightly as she spoke.

The three of them exchanged looks and chorused their acquiescence before leaving her office too. Harry looked over his shoulder as he left, and saw Professor McGonagall with her hands on her temples, looking exhausted and very sad. He hesitated, wanting to turn back and say something to comfort her, but something made him look towards the corner of the room.

Nicolas Flamel was in his portrait, staring down at him.

Harry looked back, wondering if Flamel was going to speak to him but the wizard turned away, a defeated and slightly guilty look on his face. When he looked back at Harry, he gave a harsh jerk of his chin, indicating that he should leave.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Halloween Feast was a very festive affair and in spite of their worry and fear the three of them dug into the food with relish, having had nothing since breakfast.

Everyone else was very merry, yelling and joking at each other and recounting scary stories. None of them noticed that most of the teachers were grim faced and some were leaving the high table in turn.

"Hey Potter, are you trying to sneak into the Weasley family now?" a shrill voice rose above the din. Harry turned to see Pansy Parkinson standing behind him, an arm around Blaise. "Drenching yourself in pumpkin won't help, why don't you just shack up with this one?" she pointed at Ginny who turned a shade of red that made her face look ironically, quite like a ripe pumpkin. "Then you'll be one of them for real," she smiled smugly.

Ron, who had also turned red, opened his mouth to say something insulting back but Hermione beat him to it. "Look Pansy, Harry's already family to the Weasleys. It's not something you can achieve by throwing yourself into bed with someone, not that you'd understand that." She gave her a disgusted look that spoke volumes then turned away, kissed Ginny, and calmly began to eat her shepherd's pie.

"Merlin," Blaise exclaimed. "I've heard about you two… so it's for real? You're dating each other?" At his eager tone, Pansy gave him a disgusted look and rolled her eyes.

"I was wondering who'd date someone like you, mudblood," she said scornfully. "It figures it'll be a Weasley. They'll take anyone."

Gasps rose from the Gryffindor table at her words.

"Don't be dim," Ron spat, pulling his wand out and rising so forcefully to his feet that he dragged the bench backwards, almost unseating a row of people. "Hermione's brilliant and Ginny's got more standards than the whole Slytherin year put together! And if I hear you say that one more time, I'll hex your face off so even your mother won't recognise you!"

Beside him, Harry got to his feet too, quiet but ready to offer support if it came to a fight. From the corner of his eye, he noted Ginny and Hermione both fingering their wands, and Dean and Seamus getting to their feet too.

Blaise, who also had his wand out looked Ron up and down consideringly, then opened his mouth. "We're no—

"Tarantallegra."

Harry immediately began to jerk into a polka. His hands reached out and grabbed Pansy, pulling her into a spin, then he kicked out with his feet—left, right, left—knocking first Ron and then Blaise to the ground before they could duck. Pansy screeched and batted at his face, trying to make him let go.

"Malfoy!"

The spell abruptly ended and both Harry and Pansy collapsed onto the bench, panting. Harry reached for his wand, but before he could pull it out it was summoned from him, flying in an arc to join all the other wands at Lupin's belt.

He stood there aiming a disappointed look at all of them. "Today's not the day for this," he said. "Go back to your seats."

The Slytherins slunked away, taking their wands back from Lupin. Malfoy paused as he went, glancing back at Harry with a smug look that made Harry want to throw his pasta at his face.

"Have you heard from France?" Hermione asked quietly as Lupin passed her wand back to her. He nodded, then pointed up to the high table at Professor McGonagall.

The Headmistress stood before them at the owl podium with a glass in hand. She knocked a silver knife across it, causing it to tinkle brightly.

"Your attention, please," she said. "I'd like to make an announcement." She cleared her throat and paused, though the hall had already quieted down.

"First off, I hope you have had a good time tonight. We should appreciate every opportunity we have to sit down in celebration with friends—" she broke off and swallowed, "—and speaking of friends, I am filled with great sorrow to have to inform you, that our sister school, Beauxbatons, came under attack tonight by Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

The stunned silence that filled the hall was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Harry felt his scalp prickle with sweat, and he rubbed at his forehead, feeling a tickle right over his scar.

"I wish to assure you, that the Ministry is taking-"

The Hall erupted in noise as everyone began to talk at once.

"—did anyone survive?"

"—but my sister, she's just—"

"—how could he have gotten in?"

"—why? Is he coming here next? I have to—"

The tinkle of the cup was drowned out, but Professor McGonagall was persistent. She held up her wand and the fire over the pumpkins roared, then settled when the hall fell silent again.

"The ministry has sent aid to Beauxbatons, and we have started to implement extra security at Hogwarts. I ask for your co-operation in this matter. Also, if any of you have relatives or friends in Beauxbatons, please let your house teachers know and we will make every effort to find out what has happened to them. After this Feast, I want all pre—"

A loud booming sound echoed through the hall.

Harry went pale. It sounded almost exactly like the drumming he had heard just hours before.

Then the doors to the Great Hall flew open with a bang and Professor Flitwick scurried in, almost tripping over his coat tails. Trailing behind him was Kingsley Shacklebolt and three Aurors.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've just received notice that—"

The banging grew louder. Professor Flitwick yelled over the din but still couldn't make himself heard. He shook his head and ran to the podium where Professor McGonagall stood. She bent down to listen to him, nodded frantically and then held her wand aloft to her chin, amplifying her words.

"They have arrived, please do not panic and be prepared to clear some space."

She pointed her wand upwards and sent a shot to the top of the ceiling and a fractal of webbed light glimmered about the scaffolds, which momentarily lost their transparency revealing high stone arches and wooden beams.

Meanwhile Madame Pomfrey rushed into the room and Professor Flitwick send a series of charms spinning to each corner of the ceiling. Each charm seemed to explode in midair, yet after each of them, the sound of the booms grew exponentially louder and wind began to circulate in the hall, lifting hair and sweeping cloaks aside.

"Get back!" Professor McGonagall warned the students. They scurried over the benches and pressed against the walls on all four sides, like mice in a cage.

"What on earth is going on?" Seamus yelled over the din.

"She just took down the inner wards!" Hermione yelled at the same time, her eyes as wide and round as marbles. "Only the headmaster or headmistress can do that, I read about it in Hogwarts a History!"

"What? Why?"

"But what if it's a trick attack?"

Harry and Ron yelled back at the same time. Then they exchanged looks and pulled out their wands.

Professor McGonagall sent another silver shot up to the sky. This one went so high that it disappeared, but they did see the resultant silver web glimmer against the night sky. Immediately after it, the booming noise stopped.

The Great Hall fell silent, and only the howl of the wind could be heard.

Gradually a rhythmic, sweeping sound began to descend upon them, becoming louder with each second.

Professor Flitwick darted forwards and swirled his wand, making the tables and benches dance towards the edges of the Hall, miniaturizing as they went.

Just as the last bench skipped away, an enormous palomino appeared out of the night sky, its strong blue wings beating quickly as it descended from the open ceiling. It landed with an almighty crash of hoofs that almost dislodged it's riders.

"Hagrid!" Harry yelled, recognising the unruly hair and huge body. In his arms was the boy he had seen in his vision. Inadvertently, Harry took a step forward towards them.

"Keep back!" Kingsley shouted.

More horses crashed into the hall carrying riders wearing blue. Many of them were children in uniforms marred with blood and burns. All of them looked exhausted, injured and terrified.

"More incoming!" Hagrid yelled. He leapt off his horse and then whispered in its ear. It took off in a flurry of wings, rejoining the flock of horses that still circled above the hall, unable to land in the limited space. The huge horse released a trumpeting neigh and led the flock, some of which towed huge blue carriages, towards the direction of the front lawn.

Aurors and mediwitches and wizards began to stream into the room, conjuring stretches and examining the new arrivals.

"All Hogwarts students years one through four are to follow their Prefects and return to their dorms! The other students, please assist the medistaff where needed," Professor McGonagall commanded with her magnified voice.

There was a hustle as everyone got to their tasks.

Harry, Ron and Hermione followed Hagrid who hurried out to the front lawn where more students were being unloaded from the carriages by aurors and medistaff.

"Hagrid!" Harry called out.

At the sound of his voice, the half-giant immediately turned and gave them a big smile, pulling all of them into a gigantic hug. "Harry! Ron! Hermione! I'm so glad ter see you three!"

"We're very happy that you're back, Hagrid," Hermione said warmly, tears in her eyes. Ron looked about ready to shed a tear or two too, and Harry definitely felt like it. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah, nothin' to worry about," Hagrid said stuffily. "Had a run in with You-Know-Who, but we got out okay, well… most of us," he said with a cracked voice. He pulled out a gigantic handkerchief and blew his nose into it. "But no time for stories, we got to hurry. Come help me with these carriages, will you? I gotta be quick, got somethin' to tell Dumbledore."

Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Of course, Hagrid had been away and didn't know what had happened to Harry or that Dumbledore was ill in St. Mungo's. Deciding silently that this would take a lot of explaining and it probably wasn't the right time or place to do it, they nodded quickly and made themselves busy being useful.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He sucked in a deep breath, feeling the last tingling of the enervating spell leave his skin. His head felt as if he had been hit by multiple Cruciatus curses. It had been a very long time since he'd felt this way.

He sucked in another deep breath, steadying himself.

"How do you feel?" the voice sounded kind but hurried, and he took a moment to decide how to respond. Whoever it was misread his hesitation and repeated themselves. "Comment allez-vous?"

"J'ai mal à la tête…" he said finally, opening his eyes. The light made the throbbing worse. He blinked, taking in his surroundings.

He lay on a single bed with white sheets tucked close about him. It was one of a long row of beds that spanned either side of the long room, which ended in floor-to-ceiling windows with yellow curtains. The windows were open and the curtains billowed gently in the wind, revealing a familiar view of gentle cliffs leading down to a deep blue lake.

"Oh okay...Uhm…vous...souvenez-vous...uhm..comment vous... avez..et-été… blessé?"

"No, I don't remember how I got hurt… and I can understand English perfectly," he answered, turning to the young lady in the white nurse outfit.

She sighed in relief then laughed a little nervously as she bent and ran her wand over his body. "That's a relief! My French is certainly not as good as it should be. Well, the chart says you haven't sustained any serious injuries, and I can verify that. You had some burns and a contusion on your forehead, so it is probably the reason you were unconscious, but they are healed now," she said smiling at him.

He looked back at her, noting her soft brown eyes and long blonde hair tied up in a knot at the nape of her neck. She was so young and so eager to reassure him.

He smiled winningly at her and her eyes widened just a bit. Naive too. "That's good… how long will I have to stay in bed?"

"Oh don't worry, you will be free to go as soon as you are debriefed by the aurors," she gestured to the line of stern and wary men and women who were standing guard at the entrance of the room and at alternate beds.

He looked to the aurors and then back at her, frowning. Aurors at Hogwarts. Things had definitely changed. "But… why are there aurors here?" he asked, feigning puzzlement.

"Uh," she looked taken aback. "Because you were attacked… in Beauxbatons. Don't you remember?"

Shaking his head, he schooled his expression into a confused frown. "The last thing I remember is… well… nothing."

"That's odd," the nurse picked up the chart, scrutinised it then set it down and ran her wand about his head. "Do you know your name?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head silently, looking panic-stricken. "I don't remember," he whispered. "Why don't I remember?"

"Don't be afraid," she took his hands and held them tightly, reassuringly. "This happens sometimes after trauma. Your memories might come back. Just hang on, I'll get my adviser to come over to check on you."

He nodded pathetically, then curled his legs up and hunched over them with his head in his arms. Her quick footsteps pattered away, and he heard hushed voices from across the room.

"Cyril Souleymane?"

He looked up and saw an elderly man tottering towards him. He looked down at him through thick glasses, examining him thoroughly. It reminded him of another older man who used to do that too. He stared silently back at the mediwizard and didn't answer.

"Cyril, does the name sound familiar to you?"

He shook his head, "No, sir, it doesn't."

"Well…" the man paused. "There is certainly nothing physically wrong with you, my boy. I'm afraid this might be a case of post-traumatic stress. You don't remember what happened to you last night?"

"No… I don't," he replied anxiously. "Is… is Cyril my name?"

"It certainly is," the old man replied. "Well, this is unfortunate." He tapped the clipboard with his wand, scrutinising him over the top of it. "I think we should keep you here a little longer, my boy. Just as a precaution. Try to get some rest, I will check on you again later today."

He turned aside and whispered to the nurse. "Try to find some of his friends. A few familiar faces might help jolt his memory. It would also be useful to find out what happened to him last night." Then he left to look at another child in another bed.

The nurse came back and tucked the blanket gently around him then smoothed the hair from his forehead. "Rest now Cyril, and don't worry about a thing. You're safe here, and we'll sort you out soon." She smiled sweetly at him again, then left him in peace.

He looked about the hospital wing once more, noting the aurors watching him and the other students. So familiar and yet so different. He turned his back to them and curled up in the bed, luxuriating in how warm he felt. He had felt cold for so long.

'I'm bored.'

He looked down at his wrist, which was encircled by what appeared to be a delicately wrought bracelet in the shape of a snake eating it's own tail. The snake's silver head had lifted up to look at him, and it's eyes gleamed with a hungry green light.

"Rest, my pretty one. There will be plenty to do soon," he whispered in parseltongue, caressing the snake till it rested again onto his wrist. "For Lord Voldemort has truly returned."

A/N: I used Google Translate for the French, so if anyone has any corrections, do tell. The phrases are meant to mean as follows: 'Comment allez-vous?' (How are you?); 'J'ai mal à la tête' (My head hurts); 'Vous souvenez-vous comment vous avez été blessé?' (Do you remember how you got hurt?).