A/N: Well ya'll, I'm back! New laptop and all! :) Uhm, there's no real excuse for my absence, but here's a few updates on me, if you care.

I graduated high school and got a job at a gas station. Total bleh. Anyways, I worked my ass off and ended up getting a job as a bank teller! Hooray! Then things started going to shit. I got dumped by my boyfriend of a year and a half on Thanksgiving, and I've been incredibly depressed since. So maybe this will help me get over myself. I hope.

Warnings for this chapter: Well, the usual I think.

The day after Lucius had reversed the spell, Hadrian dragged Marcus and Draco into an empty classroom. While he was still young in his school years, he knew very well how to lock doors and cast silencing charms.

"Dumbledore Imperioused me. He made me give the Philosopher's Stone to him after looking in the Mirror of Erised. I'm only telling you because I need your help. Draco, Marcus, your families are both followers of the Dark. Our lord will return soon, but not as soon as he would've with the Philosopher's Stone. I'm trusting you will keep this all to yourselves?" Marcus and Draco both quickly pulled out their wands and swore on their magic. If they spoke a word of it without Hadrian's permission, their magic would be bound and they would live out the rest of their lives as squibs.

"What do you need from us, Hadrian?" Marcus asked in a hushed tone, leaning close to the younger boy. Hadrian blushed deeply.

"Here's the plan..."

Evan Rosier sat in his favorite chair in front of the hearth. The fire flared green with floo powder as Derreck Flint's head popped up.

"May I come through? We have much to discuss." Derreck stated. Evan gave the affirmative and Derreck stepped through elegantly. He swept the soot off his robes and stood in front of Evan.

"We must speak about our sons. Marcus has demonstrated great interest young Hadrian. I have a betrothal proposition for you. There is a contract between the Flints and the Rosiers. I would be happy to employ it. Of course, with your permission. Marcus would like to ask for Hadrian's hand.

"Hmm. A betrothal contract. Of course, Lord Flint. It would be a wonderful alliance, and I know Hadrian feels deeply for Marcus as well. Shall we look over the contract?" Derreck nodded and swept back to his house to retrieve the contract for inspection. Evan penned a letter to his future son-in-law furiously and placed it in the talons of the family owl.

Dear Marcus,

Hello young man from your future father-in-law. I've heard of your feelings for my son Hadrian Rosier. There is a betrothal contract between the Flints and the Rosiers I would be happy to set into motion. However, there are several conditions.

You must wait until Yule of Hadrian's fifth year.

You must treat my child as he deserves - should I find you treat him like anything less than royalty, your head will reside on a pike outside of Rosier Manor.

You will remain faithful to my son.

You will not engage in intercourse until you are wed.

You will guard my son with your life.

Remember Marcus. If you treat my son correctly, you are the king and he will be your queen. However, if you harm a hair on his head, it is not me you will have to worry about. It is my lovely wife, Annaliese. She is very protective of our baby boy.

We would appreciate your visiting during the Easter holiday.

With much love and respect,

Evan and Annaliese Rosier

Marcus read over the letter several times, giving a deep shudder over the threat of violence from his future in-laws. When his friend Adrian Pucey read the letter over his shoulder, he was shocked to find it glamoured to say something else.

"I'm sorry your sister's pet passed, but why on earth would your mother write to you to inform you? I mean...wow. Your mother doesn't seem to be the one to write frivolous letters like that."

"She's not. But I guess Jezebel's wolf was a member of the family." Marcus grunted. Adrian gave an eye roll and walked away. Marcus quickly stood and made his way over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Hadrian, may I see you for a moment? It is of utmost importance." Their disappearance didn't go unnoticed. Albus Dumbledore gaped after them, Quirrell gave an uncharacteristic smirk and Snape gave the same look of disdain he always gave.

"Hadrian, I am prepared for you to turn me down. However, I will still ask you. Will you be my betrothed? There is a contract between our families which would allow us to wed after many years. While we don't know each other as intimately as you'd like, we have many years before the wedding to get to know each other. I feel strongly for you. Please say yes." Marcus pleaded, holding a small band. It was a band that would show he was romantically unavailable. Harry looked down at Marcus on his knees and dropped down to meet him.

"Yes, yes of course! Oh Marcus..." Harry murmured, teary eyed as he stared his now betrothed in the eyes. Yes, he was only a first year. But most betrothals lasted years before ending in wedded bliss. It was the Old Way. He and Marcus would have several years to get to know each other, as well as explore romantically. Of course, nothing uncouth would occur during the betrothal period. Should such things occur, the dominant's family would suffer severe consequences. The submissive would be considered innocent to all things. According to the Old Ways, a proper submissive was to be treated as royalty and treasured beyond extent. An improper submissive, one who challenged their dominant, would be forced to live in shame. A proper dominant would be treated with utmost respect, but an improper dominant would be shunned from a community until they shaped up.

As Marcus and Hadrian stood, Harry stood on tiptoe and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Marcus's mouth, before quickly running off back to the hall, hoping to share the good news with Draco. Marcus froze, fingers lightly touching the corner of his mouth, which was oddly warm.

"He asked me to be his betrothed! Oh Draco I'm so happy!" Harry cheerfully declared, picking up his goblet of pumpkin juice. His friend snorted.

"You know, you're rather young. But you won't be married for many years, so I suppose it's alright. Marcus is a good fellow." He pretended to be disinterested, but really, he was quaking in happiness for his friend. He was about to ask where said boy was, when an uproar began in the Great Hall directly following the arrival of the Daily Prophet. Thankfully, two owls dropped copies in front of Harry and Draco.

Dumbledore the Dark?

By Geddy Lifeson

Albus Dumbledore has always been known as the pinnacle of the Light. However, this reporter has recently received some shocking evidence otherwise from an anonymous source we will name E. This evidence came in the form of the headmaster's own signature lemon drops. They were sent away for testing recently, and revealed dangerously high levels of Magister Imperium, otherwise known as the liquid form of the Imperious Curse. I had the great pleasure of speaking with Mr. E after receiving the papers.

G: Mr. E, what reason did you have to suspect tainted lemon drops?

E: My son had found a few of them, and noted an odd taste after eating them. I cannot place blame with him for eating them, he is only a child after all. He told me in a letter he felt odd afterwards, and asked me to have some checked. He sent me the remainder, and I sent them away for analysis. I expected them to be expired, not laced with a potion!

G: Not only was it laced with Magister Imperium, it also contained other potions. What were they, Mr. E?

E: I'm afraid they also contained a submissiveness potion, Submissam Virilis as well as Amor Venenum, a love potion.

G: Why would the headmaster of Hogwarts keep these treats? Is it possible he was being poisoned?

E: I too believed in this possibility. However, I had the maker traced. Even in making potions, a magical signature is left behind. The magical signature was shown as Albus Dumbledore. The esteemed headmaster brewed these potions and made these lemon drops himself.

G: I am loathe to believe, but it's all here on paper. Thank you for your time, Mr. E.

E: It is no problem, Mr. Lifeson. My son is a student at Hogwarts, and I only wish to keep them all safe.

The Great Hall positively roared. The Gryffindor table cried out indignantly at the thought of their favored headmaster being anything but Light. The Ravenclaw table asked questions to each other on others' opinion, only adding to the noise. The only tables anywhere near calm were the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables. Hufflepuff appeared to be in utter shock, while the seated Slytherins smirked to each other. Harry was included in the silent celebration.

The staff table was an entirely different story. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were staring in unadultered shock. Professors Snape and Quirrell shared a knowing look, while Dumbledore looked flustered.

Everything was coming apart. Some brat had stumbled onto his lemon drops! There were a few he could consider. Ernie Macmillan's father's name was Eric. Justin Finch-Fletchey's father's name was Errin, but he was muggle-born. Who could have a father with a name starting with E…?

It would have to wait. He needed to regain control of his school.

Casting a quick Sonorous, he shouted to the students.

"Students! You will head back to your dorms immediately!" he commanded. The roar died down immediately and the students began shuffling back to their common rooms. He didn't notice Hadrian headed back to the Slytherin common room.

Why was everything going to hell?