"Keep your neck straight, Harry, pushing your head down won't help," Marvolo said sternly. "Or have you developed pecs in your neck, hmm?"
A drop of sweat slid down from his crown, over his nose, until he could taste the salty moisture on his lips. His whole face was warm and clammy, though so was the rest of his body; Harry could only add intense fatigue and sore muscles.
A wooden skewer suddenly appeared under his chin, which pricked viciously at his skin because he still hadn't improved his posture. Immediately he straightened his head and flexed his pecs, shoulders, and arms to push himself up.
"Twenty-four," Harry puffed wearily.
"Six more pushups, Harry," Marvolo said boredly from behind a book he was flipping through.
Harry felt his arms tremble from the effort; he was not used to intensively training his body and looked reluctantly at the position he was in. He was in a plank position, which Marvolo said was good for his 'core'. The man then stated that he could use the stability during the coming school year during Quidditch so that Harry immediately agreed to this training.
Afterward, Harry had to admit that he was naive to think it would become normal training. Marvolo didn't do things halfway but did them meticulously and thoroughly. According to his 'father', Harry did not have enough fighting skills and commitment to make sufficient progress, so Marvolo decided to add an extra incentive to Harry's workout.
Harry's hands were on blocks, his feet were also on a platform, causing his stomach to hang above the ground. At the start of his push-up sets- because only repetition would produce muscle mass- Harry occasionally felt a Stinging Hex on his stomach when he did a push-up with a hollow back. After some corrections, however, Marvolo decided to add an extra stimulus and lit about thirty candles, which Harry effectively hovered over.
As long as Harry kept his posture, the temperature remained pleasant. Harry had noticed, however, that if he lingered too long, the tiny flames burned into his skin. After this, Harry chose to puff out with his arms outstretched - far from the hot flames.
Of course, Marvolo had seen this new 'Hufflepuff' tactic and had put his feet, shoes and all, on his back like a footstool. The man quietly read the newspaper and now a book, while Harry toiled did his exercises. The older wizard pressed his heels into Harry's if he rested too long, forcing him to quickly resume the push-ups.
Apparently, the wooden skewer stuck between Harry's chin and neck was the last stimulus to get him to do the commands properly. In his fatigue, Harry had forced his head down in an effort to make the push-ups easier. This was, of course, corrected by Marvolo- bloody control freak - with a nasty cocktail pick. Harry realized it could always be worse; the wooden skewer could easily have been a sharp pin.
After the very last exercise, the candles finally disappeared and Harry dropped with a thud. He kissed the ground excessively and murmured that he had missed the cool wooden floor. He turned exhausted on his back, legs and arms outstretched, like a spread eagle.
"Merlin's saggy balls," Harry sighed, closing his eyes.
Marvolo looked amused at the teenager who lay on the floor with a ravishing blush. Harry looked quite tired; his cheeks were red, his black hair lay flat on his head- in contrast to the usual messy haircut- and his body was wet with sweat. Best of all, though, were his eyes, which sparkled from the intense workout and seemed even more fiery than usual.
A smug smile appeared on the man's lips. He should really make a Wizard Photo of this and use it in the marriage negotiations. He was sure that hordes of candidates would jump at the chance of including such a delightful specimen in their family, in addition to his great heritage, of course- only the best for a Slytherin.
A frown soon followed, however, at the thought of a strange witch or wizard kissing his son during a bonding ceremony. Marvolo felt his chest go icy at the thought of eager hands fumbling awkwardly on his Harry.
Marvolo shook his head firmly. His son should not endure ignorant hands, only the best for him. Harry needed skillful and agile hands, which should control him but passionately guide him to a sublime climax.
He looked again at the boy who lay blissfully ignorant on the floor, oblivious to Marvolo's current train of thought. The older wizard could see the smooth muscles under Harry's wet see-through shirt and realized his son would be a catch in the marriage market.
He made his decision and realized that his son needed a proper courtship contract. Within the ancient Pureblood families, the heirs would be well educated, minimizing clumsy actions and incompetent gestures. Harry would be treated like the little lord he is, not like a lovelorn sap who cums at the first touch.
Marvolo grinned widely and decided to write Lord Malfoy a letter. The man, after all, owed him something. Lucius had to thank him on his knees and kiss the ground in front of him, and his debt was still unpaid.
When Harry told him a story a week ago about a young Tom Riddle appearing from a journal, Marvolo had hung upon his lips. He'd let the boy ramble on about trivial details- who, in Salazar's name, cared about an obnoxious girl stupid enough to write in an answering journal?- and only asked questions when Harry was too vague in his description.
After Harry finished his story, Marvolo first started to smash a couple of vases with some well-aimed curses. When he had calmed down, he felt a strange kind of loss as he thought of the huge Basilisk now rotting in the Chamber. The serpent had been something of a friend in the short time he had gotten to know the beast, and he had been in awe of the ancient animal.
The huge serpent, which had been centuries old, had been valuable. It was a magical animal with immense powers- now reduced to a pile of skin and bones. Marvolo knew the snake would still have venom that could still be used for potions. Plus, the fangs were a powerful part of a Basilisk, one that Marvolo could put to good use. Finally, the skin could still be used for clothing and shoes, perfect for use in a fierce battle. Most spells would have no effect on the wearer of a cloak of Basilisk skin, the scales were simply too strong for that.
Harry had made himself small when he had indulged in destructiveness. The boy seemed younger than his age for the first time since he knew him, his eyes had looked submissively to the ground. His lower lip had quivered- it was obvious the boy was fighting back tears.
Marvolo should have bathed in the sight Harry made. His guilt and obvious discomfort should be stretched as long as possible so that the boy would have to suffer Marvolo's punishment for a long period of time. He should have taunted Harry and dragged him to the dungeon by his hair. He should have made the boy suffer, just as much his brother had endured when he was pierced by a fang from the Basilisk.
Harry had finally straightened his shoulders and his chin lifted combatively. The boy had looked so much like him at that moment; any doubt about his parentage was gone. His mouth was fearless, his lips tight and thin. His cheekbones seemed almost more prominent with this pose as if the boy had lost his baby fat and were now taking on the shape of the man he would become. But it was his eyes that had broken Marvolo's resolution. Those green eyes shone with defiance, ready to fend off a reaction from Marvolo.
Those fuckin' eyes like the Killing Curse.
Immediately Marvolo had felt his determination crumble. His anger became as fleeting as alcohol, evaporating under the flicker of Harry's gaze. His belly had begun to writhe like the same Basilisk now dead in the Chamber. The feeling had been nauseous and nauseous. Marvolo didn't know this feeling, which seemed to grow the longer he looked at Harry's limp form.
Was this guilt? Was this a feeling of unhappiness because Harry felt miserable?
Marvolo hid this notion away; he had always put his own feelings first. Why should he care about others? And yet, seeing Harry standing so vulnerable, yet so warlike, he couldn't help but feel. He couldn't dismiss this bad feeling in his stomach like food poisoning or indigestion. No, this was much more and all-encompassing.
He had opened his arms and motioned for the boy to come to him. When Harry had walked toward him slowly, but with self-conscious steps, he had pulled him into a close embrace. He had felt the boy's muscles relax and the small but warm body flattened against him. He ran his fingers through Harry's astonishingly soft hair, the short locks feeling good in his hands. He had been massaging his fingers until he heard an almost purring sound from Harry.
Empty words and small caresses had escaped Marvolo. He couldn't have worried about it though, it was all his son needed and Marvolo would give much more to make his darling boy happy again.
"Hush, little tyrant," Marvolo whispered to Harry. "You are not to blame, it was Malfoy's failure that made an indelible mistake. I'm glad you told me, this changes my plans considerably."
Now, a week later, Marvolo realized that in a sense he was relieved to know that the diary had been destroyed. That book contained the purest form of his essence, it had been laced with innocence. Marvolo had never had this innocence and realized that the annihilation of the diary might have been competitive elimination. Perhaps this was a happy accident.
Moreover, this accident meant that Marvolo had knowledge that he could use against Malfoy. He could let this hang over his head like Damocles' sword, menacing and an omen of what might happen if he didn't cooperate with Marvolo.
He grinned as he looked at the exhausted figure lying on the floor. His Harry might have given him more than he could ever have dreamed of. His second-in-command was now within reach and malleable to Marvolo's wildest wishes. If he said: "Jump," Malfoy would sigh, "How high, my Lord?"
His message to Lucius Malfoy was authoritative and to the point. It took longer than he thought possible to write the message, but he told himself it was normal for any parent to look after their offspring; After all, Harry had been lying on the floor for several minutes now, dressed in wet clothes, with a blush on his cheeks. Marvolo would not be a good father if his son caught a cold, that would be unheard of, unworthy of a man of his stature.
When he had his owl-Apollo- come to send the message, Harry had finally moved from his beloved spot on the floor. The dark-haired boy stretched, allowing Marvolo to see a few dark hairs nestled around his navel. The hairs were a reminder that Harry was a teenager, in that strange phase between being a boy and a man.
Harry stiffened at the sight of Marvolo's brooding gaze. He pulled his shirt back into place and rubbed his shorts with his hands uncomfortably.
"F-father?" Harry began hesitantly.
Marvolo sent Apollo on his way to Malfoy Manor and raised his eyebrow, waiting for Harry to continue with his question.
Harry took a deep breath and regained his courage. "Father, if it behooves you, may I have a moment of your time? I have a question about my study, I'm afraid I can't continue without clarification."
Marvolo looked interested at Harry. "Fine, ask your questions, if the answer takes a long time, I suggest you refresh yourself first."
Harry nodded and swallowed nervously, suddenly unsure of the right way to approach his problem. "Sir, I have a question about Bloodwards. I started this topic as my extra study topic, purely out of personal interest, but I confess that I'm stuck."
Marvolo motioned for Harry to sit down and cast a light cleaning spell at him, leaving his clothes smelling fresh and dry. Harry gratefully accepted his offer and relaxed his tired muscles in the comfortable chair.
"Bloodwards can exist forever, correct?" Harry began vigorously.
Marvolo nodded. "It depends on the sacrifice and the conditions attached to it. Take the wards around this house; the wards themselves are hundreds of years old, I have only strengthened them by performing a ritual with my own blood. This works as a reinforcement, but also as a bond between lord and property."
Harry smiled hesitantly but was comforted by Marvolo's answer. "Suppose... a Bloodward is connected to a sacrifice and a person, thus attaching a new piece of property to the protection. Does this protection that the Bloodward offers to go with the person for whom the sacrifice was intended, or does it remain on the property?"
Marvolo frowned, deep in thought. "That's awfully specific, Harry. Again, this would depend on the conditions imposed on the performance of the ritual and sacrifice."
Harry hummed softly. "Does the person to whom the wards are attached need to return to the property regularly to keep the wards strong, or do they remain in effect for a long period of time?"
Marvolo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry," he said impatiently. "Again, that depends on the conditions involved in forming the Bloodwards and the power of the sacrifice."
"If the sacrifice is a magical life, given willingly, but taken forcefully?" Harry asked quickly.
"Then the wards would be practically impenetrable to people not connected to the wards. Although this doesn't say anything about the duration of the strength of the wards, that again depends on the ritual and the conditions attached to it," Marvolo said in his teacher's voice.
Marvolo leaned back and gave Harry a hard look. "Why this interest, Harry?"
"It's something Professor Dumbledore had said, it's why I lived with my aunt and uncle. I found it remarkable, however, that you could walk in without being connected to the Bloodwards," Harry said in his mind.
Marvolo pushed his feet against the ground, causing him to spin around. He leaned back and didn't speak again until the chair stopped spinning.
"There was a Ward around your aunt and uncle's house, but this one admitted anyone who had no evil intentions."
Harry grunted and started to open his mouth to protest. Marvolo held up his hand. "Magical people, Harry. Wards are often not suitable for use against Muggles, for which we already use strong cloaking spells, such as a Notice-me-Not. Your aunt and uncle's house was accessible to all their friends and family."
"What's love got to do with it, sir?"
Marvolo let out a surprised laugh. "Love? Love has nothing to do with Bloodwards, where does that strange thought come from?"
"Dumbledore," Harry muttered, looking down at the ground.
Marvolo leaned back even further and spread his arms, grinning. "Shall we take everything that Old Coot says with a grain of salt from now on?"
Harry nodded and fiddled with his fingers. "So it couldn't be that such Bloodwards would be connected to Sex Magic?"
Marvolo lost his balance and fell backward in his chair. He stared at Harry in bewilderment from the ground and climbed up slowly like a beast of prey, without taking his eyes off the boy.
"Sex Magic, little tyrant? Care to elaborate?"
Harry blushed wildly and drew imaginary patterns on the floor with the tip of his shoe. "Well, I was toying with the idea of love, Dumbledore wouldn't just make a statement like that, right? Well, I haven't been able to find any evidence in the past few days about the use of love as a protection against evil influences. But then I thought, people who love each other have sex... right? The references to sex magic were present in the Bloodwards books I consulted."
Harry looked straight at Marvolo again and shrugged. "When Dumbledore spoke of love, I was eleven years old, and he stated that I was too young to know any further specifications. If he was indeed talking about Sex Magic, then that would make sense... right, father?"
Marvolo walked to the table where there was a carafe of liquor. He poured himself a good layer of whiskey and drank it down in one gulp. He then looked back at Harry. He looked at his red lips, which he moistened nervously with the tip of his tongue. The thin film of saliva made his lips glisten and seemed to call out to him. He quickly poured another glass of booze and settled back into his seat, a safe distance from Harry.
"Love has nothing to do with Sex Magic, Harry. I understand why you would think that, but love is not a prerequisite for successfully completing most sexual rituals," Marvolo said in a strangely hoarse voice.
Harry bit his lower lip uncertainly and searched with his green eyes the almost black eyes of Marvolo, in which only a small circle of red could be seen. "How would that work, father, Sex Magic in amplifying a Bloodward? Would it be possible to incorporate love into it as a condition?"
Marvolo looked stunned at Harry but disguised his surprise by taking a long gulp of his Whiskey. He doubted how much to tell Harry about the subject, but mostly doubted how much he could tell without openly showing his own reactions. He began to curse loudly and stood up tense.
"Sex Magic doesn't fit your story about a Bloodward that was around your aunt and uncle's house. I think you're too young for this, Harry. We'll talk about this when you're at least sixteen," Marvolo said curtly.
Harry moaned loudly. "But that will take another three years! Never mind, I'll figure it out myself!"
Marvolo got up and grabbed Harry, as fast as a Python biting its prey. "Nero... my little tyrant, don't try my patience. If I say you are too young for such knowledge, then you are," hissed Marvolo deadly.
Harry lifted his chin defiantly. "Am I too young to study Necromancy? I believe that the control of the dead is worse than exchanging bodily fluids."
Marvolo's eyes widened at the words: exchanging bodily fluids, and he put his hand tightly around Harry's mouth. "Be quiet!"
Harry tried to free his mouth from Marvolo's grip, but the man followed his movements flawlessly and anticipated Harry's ideas perfectly. His green eyes gleamed angrily, but he calmed down and stood still in front of Marvolo.
"From now on, all the books containing the subject Sex Magic will no longer be readable to you, Harry. This topic has been closed."
Harry nodded unruly as Marvolo let go of his mouth. "As you command, Father."
Marvolo grabbed him painfully by the chin and looked straight into his eyes. "It's a good thing Lord Maloy owes me a lot, I think a Betrothal Contract will be a requirement for you, my son."
He let go of Harry, ignoring his angry exclamations. "Perhaps such a commitment can keep you in check."