Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition – Round Eleven

Prompt – Top of the Pops – This round is all about using songs as inspiration. More specifically, some of the biggest songs ever! Twelve songs have been selected by Emma and me that were released somewhere between 1960 and 2013, and a random sequence generator was used to assign a song to each team. Whichever song you have is the one you are to take inspiration from.

Here's the catch (yes, there's more :P), in your teams, you are to select one lyric, or line of the song, each, and use that line alone to base your fic around. No two people can use the same line, even if lines are repeated in the song.

WASPS: Take A Chance On Me – ABBA

Seeker: Gonna do my very best and it ain't no lie, If you put me to the test, if you let me try

Seeker for the amazing Wimbourne Wasps

Word Count: 3000 according to Open Office

Warnings: Strong language, death, mentions of torture, slash, canon deviation

Being Undone

Albus slumped onto his seat after the Order members had left. He was feeling his age, and, not for the first time since this whole thing had started, he wondered if it wouldn't be better to let someone else take the reins.

A bitter chuckle left him at that thought.

Who else was there?

Since that Halloween night fifteen years ago, everything had gone from bad to worse.

James and Lily had been found murdered in their little home in Godric's Hallow. As for Harry... there hadn't been a trace of the toddler.

No one knew if the child had lived or died.

Part of him – and he hated himself for it – hoped that the child had been killed, because even contemplating the possibility that the child was alive was just too horrible.

"Albus!"

He looked up and met the terrified eyes of young Nymphadora Tonks. So young; far too young to have that war torn look in her eyes. It shattered his soul to see that look mirrored in the eyes of most of the younger generation.

"Attack in London! They're targeting King's Cross."

Then she was gone, and he heard commotion through the headquarters, indicating that many had followed her.

He closed his eyes – allowing himself a moment of weakness – and prayed that all of them made it back. Then he stood up and followed them out into the war torn streets their world had become.

Slow clapping echoed in the ample training room, freezing the only person inside in their place.

Draco watched as the other teen slowly turned towards him, and he contained a shudder at the deadly look in his eyes. No matter what his deranged aunt claimed, the teen wasn't someone to mess with.

"Done venting your frustration?" He didn't fidget when those eyes narrowed.

His friend, if one could use that term when it concerned the teen in question, turned back around and went right back to blasting the training dummies apart.

This time Draco did wince.

He knew what had put the other male in such a mood: Draco's aunt.

The hate they held for each other was legendary amongst the Dark army. And his aunt... well, Bellatrix knew just what buttons to push. It was known through the ranks that the teen was completely in love with the Dark Lord, not that anyone dared utter those words – aside from Bella that is. Draco hadn't been present for this particular confrontation, but from what he had heard, his aunt had started taunting the teen about his affection for the Dark Lord, again.

Which, in Draco's opinion, was rather hypocritical from Bella considering her own obsession with the Dark Lord.

Draco studied the teen blasting the dummies apart. Draco would never understand how he could be in love with the Dark Lord. Not that his Lord wasn't handsome. He was, and the power that always cloaked him like a shroud was intoxicating, but the simple fact remained that the Dark Lord was utterly terrifying. Of course, there was also the fact that the Dark Lord had killed his parents.

It had happened fifteen years ago, but it was still talked about amongst the Dark army. How the Dark Lord had gone to kill a child – the Potter child – and had come back with the toddler. No one knew why the Dark Lord had changed his mind, and Draco doubted anyone but the Dark Lord would ever know.

Harry James Potter, the child that the Light believed was dead, had been raised amidst the Dark army by the Dark Lord himself. Very few knew, of course, and those that did had been sworn to secrecy. Though they were all baffled by the relationship between the two powerful wizards.

It was clear as day that the Dark Lord didn't treat Harry as a common Death Eater, not even like an Elite. Their relationship was strangely intimate and intense, leaving most Death Eaters feeling uncomfortable when they caught a glimpse of their interactions outside of meetings. It was something that drove Draco's aunt into jealous fits every time she even laid eyes on Harry.

While Harry... well, Harry was utterly devoted to the Dark Lord.

"The meeting will start in five minutes. You'd better not be late." Draco flinched when that piercing green gaze landed on him and beat a hasty retreat.

He may consider the younger male a friend, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that the feelings were mutual, at least not to the same extent.

While they may have a closer relationship than Harry had with any of the other Death Eaters, Harry James Potter was first and foremost the Dark Lord's weapon, something Draco wasn't quick to forget.

Harry took a deep breath. He needed to take a minute to bring his emotions under control. He knew just how much his Lord despised emotional reactions. Though, for reasons he couldn't understand, his Lord was inexplicably lenient when it came to him.

Still, he made sure to be as emotionless as possible when he entered the meeting room, even though he wanted nothing more than to crucio Bellatrix the second he laid eyes on her.

He despised the witch with every fiber of his being. She behaved like a bitch in heat every time she was even near the Dark Lord. It drove him insane.

He didn't let his mask slip when she sneered at him. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"Harry."

A shiver ran down his spine when he heard the dark voice. His eyes flew immediately to the man sitting at the head of the table.

"My Lord." Everyone else in the room just disappeared. They were meaningless when in the presence of the Dark Lord. How could Harry notice them when those carmine eyes captured his undivided attention?

"Come, Harry, sit." The Dark Lord motioned to an empty seat on his right, and Harry could see Bellatrix puff out in rage – not that she dared do anything in front of the Dark Lord. Harry had to restrain the smug smirk that wanted to spread across his lips. No matter how much the bitch wanted to spread her legs for the Dark Lord, she would never be as important as Harry.

Every time the Dark Lord showed that, it made Harry's heart beat faster and his magic sing under his skin.

Harry took his seat, doing his best to seem nonchalant about the crimson eyes lingering on him. Every time his Lord looked at him like that he felt as if he were about to be devoured. It made his breath catch in his throat. It made him feel as if his Lord saw no one but him in those moments, and he admitted to having become addicted to that feeling. He would do anything in his power to have those eyes on him all the time.

"We should just kill them all, my Lord!" Bellatrix's screeching voice brought him out of his thoughts. His insides clenched when he realized that he hadn't noticed that the meeting had started. Though he could easily guess what it had been about; recently most meetings were about the same thing: how to take Hogwarts and the Ministry.

"Yes." Every eye turned towards him and he leaned back on his chair, crossing one leg over the other. Harry knew he looked disturbingly like the Dark Lord in that moment. Growing up in the man's shadow had made him adopt some of his mannerisms, even if subconsciously. It had become such a large part of him that Harry couldn't, wouldn't, change them now. Even if it made most of the Death Eaters uncomfortable. "That is such a fabulous idea, dear Bella. I do wonder why no one else thought about that... Oh, now I remember. There is this pesky inconvenience known as the Order of the Phoenix. And let us not forget that the Dark Lord actually wants people that he can rule over once this war is won, and not a sea of corpses."

A heartbeat of silence.

"How dare you, you disgusting, little, half-blood freak!" Bellatrix's chair clattered to the floor. Harry saw the Death Eaters nearest her leaning away, either afraid of the volatile magic crackling around Bellatrix or the retribution they knew would come from Harry. "You're nothing! Just because you're in love with the Dark Lord you think that you matter? Do you really think that the Dark Lord would ever look at you? That he would sully himself with a disgusting half-blood like you? You're supposed to be the Dark Lord's weapon! Yet you remain here, doing nothing! You're nothing! Not even good enough to be his whore!"

Harry's heartbeat sounded uncomfortably loud. He was sure that every person in the room could hear it trying to beat right out of his chest. It was so loud that he couldn't even hear the gasps from the gathered Death Eaters.

Bellatrix had taunted him enough times about his feelings that it had become an open secret amongst the Death Eaters, though none but her dared breathe a word of it. However, she had never said anything in front of the Dark Lord.

Harry was frozen in place. Not even when the Crucio slammed into Bellatrix and her agonized screams filled the room did he move.

"Leave."

Harry flinched. He had never heard his Lord's voice sound so deadly.

The Death Eaters vacated the premises so fast that they could have apparated out, Rabastan and Rodolphus dragging the unconscious body of Bellatrix behind them. Harry supposed that they were in such a hurry to leave that they didn't even bother with magic to help them get her out of the room. Another part of him, detached from what was happening, couldn't help but wonder at the amount of power behind that particular Crucio to have rendered Bellatrix unconscious in a less than a minute.

Still, he remained frozen in place. What would his Lord think of him now that he knew what Harry felt? Harry didn't fool himself into thinking that the Dark Lord didn't suspect. The Dark Lord could read him like a book, so it wouldn't surprise him at all if the Dark Lord was aware of Harry's feelings for him. However, as long as Harry didn't mention them he could always pretend that they were not there.

Now, though... Now they had been exposed to the harsh light of day and Harry felt naked in front of those mesmerizing eyes.

"Child." Harry flinched when long, pianist fingers grasped his chin. "Look at me."

As always, Harry couldn't refuse whatever it was his Lord asked of him.

"Do not let what Bellatrix said bother you, child. You know she speaks nothing but lies." Harry shuddered at the warm breath that washed over his cheek.

"She didn't, my Lord." Harry was afraid his voice would fail him.

"Tom. I am Tom to you, Harry." Harry closed his eyes, letting the soft words consume him. It was just what he needed to hear. Those words, spoken in that tone, as they had been so many times before whenever they were alone.

"Tom." Those red eyes closed, hiding any emotions that could have surfaced. "She didn't lie. Not about what I feel. Nor about me being here when I'm supposed to be your weapon, your tool in bringing the Light to its knees."

Harry told himself that he imagined the shuddering breath coming from his Lord. He couldn't possibly affect his Lord the same way his Lord affected him. No matter how much he desired it.

"You are so young." The Dark Lord caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. "So very young. I fear you will be my undoing." The sigh that followed constricted Harry's heart. He couldn't bear to cause his Lord any sort of distress. "You are more than a tool to me, child. You are precious. I could not send you out only to lose you to the Light or worse, to death."

"At least let me try." Harry grabbed his Lord's hand, holding onto the limb that had been resting on his lap as if it were a life-line. "I want to be useful to you. If you just test me, if you let me try, you'll see I'm not lying. I swear I'm going to do my best. Can't you trust me? Can't you let me try?" The hand he was holding – so much larger than his own – tightened around his. "Please, Tom. Let me be your weapon. Let me be what you trained me for."

Then his Lord was pulling away, and Harry was sure that the whispered "I am sorry" he heard was nothing more than a product of his imagination.

Albus was startled when the door to the meeting room banged open and a frantic looking Sirius stumbled through.

"Albus! He's here! We found him! He's alive!"

"Who's alive? Who's here?" Albus rose from his armchair, observing the wild gleam in the younger man's eyes.

"Harry!"

"What?" Albus didn't even notice that he had sunk back into his armchair.

"He's been living like a muggle, he didn't even know about magic!"

"Sirius, please." Albus did not dare let the sliver of hope that blossomed in his heart take hold. "From the beginning."

"I was in that little coffee shop, near headquarters. And I just ran into him, quite literally. He's been living in Manchester, just moved back to London because his foster parents allowed him to move to a school here. He has magic, but he never knew about it, didn't even know he had it. He was so surprised when I told him. He's alive, Albus." Albus could not remember the last time he had seen a true smile light up Sirius' features.

"How did he not get a Hogwarts letter?" Albus still did not want that tiny seed of hope to take hold. It was simply too good to be true. The prophecy child reappearing after over a decade? Right when they needed him the most and when all hope seemed to be lost? Albus was terrified of believing it, of hoping. Of having faith only to have it crushed.

Another part of him needed it to be true. Wanted to believe it with all his soul, needed to believe it with all his soul. He was reaching a point where he simply had no more to give, no more to fight for. They all were.

They needed this. They needed hope.

The child of prophecy, Harry, had always been a source of hope. Their beacon of light in the overwhelming darkness.

"He has a ward tied to him that prevents him from being magically tracked or located. It looks like Lily's work. She always was brilliant with charms. He's alive, Albus. He's back home."

And that little grain of hope planted itself firmly in his heart, in his soul.

They could hope again.

"Crucio!"

Not even Bella's screams could quell his rage. Two days! His treasure had been missing for two days! How could this have happened? How could Harry, his Harry, be missing?

All those years ago, when he made the choice of training the child to be a loyal Death Eater instead of killing him when he realized just how similar their magic was, he couldn't have guessed how things would have turned out.

He had followed his plan, he had trained Harry; however, it was so very fascinating watching the child grow, watching him learn and evolve.

He had never thought he would have become attached to the child. But he had. Almost without his notice, Harry become important to him; the only human life that he truly valued aside from his own. The only one he allowed to call him by his name, simply because as a toddler it was the only name Harry had been able to call him by.

He knew that these feelings were only possible because he had not gone on with his plan to create multiple Horcruxes. He had created one when he was a school boy and he had planned on having more. However, due to nothing more than chance, he had uncovered a tome in his voyages that spoke of how unstable his mind would become. If there was one thing he valued as much as his magic, it was his mind. It was not something he had been willing to risk.

Even so, with only half a soul it was almost painful to have these feelings for the younger male. They teared at his mutilated soul, making it burn and ache. He knew that the only way for it to cease was to give in, to surrender, but he could not.

Giving in, surrendering to the sweet temptation the child posed would be his undoing, he was sure of it.

The doors to the meeting hall banged open, deafening Bella's screams for a fraction of a second.

He lifted the curse, his arm dropping to his side listlessly, when his eyes landed on the vision bathed in crimson that walked into the room, leaving bloody footprints in its wake.

Slowly, he made his way towards the shorter figure, stopping when he was just an arm's length away.

"I tried. I did my very best."

The words echoed around the room, almost silencing the several low thuds that followed. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the severed heads of at least thirty order members, terror and agony tainting their expressions. Amongst them was Albus Dumbledore's head, his twinkling blue eyes missing.

Standing in the middle of it stood his treasure, looking like sin personified.

He moved before he realized what he was doing.

He claimed the blood stained lips in a ravenous kiss, unadulterated glee and possessiveness coursing through him when Harry responded to the kiss as if he had been doing it all his life.

Maybe being undone would not be so bad.