Death is mercy, not served to Harry Potter at the end of the war.
Drumbeat, Heartbeat
There's a routine to every day, every week, that rarely changes. The routine blends time together into uncertainty, but Harry knows he hasn't spent more than a year locked away. Death is mercy and mercy isn't something Harry was given at the end of the war. He supposes mercy was given, in return for his compliance and obedience, to his friends and their families live as peacefully as anyone can under the Dark Lord's reign. He takes the thought of their safety and their at-least-free-lives and holds it close to his heart, it what keeps him from fighting and keeping from fighting keeps him (and them) alive. It's the circle of life. [what he said at first, but things change]
At seven o'clock in the morning, Harry is woken up by his House Elf, Poppy. Breakfast is laid out in the dining area adjoining to his bedroom. It's always something different, always something delicious. Fruit, eggs, toast, bacon, steak, sausage, omelets, ectera. He's taken to drinking milk and orange juice with his breakfast. His favorite breakfast is the simplest, cereal and a cup of fruit with a short glass of orange juice. The Dark Lord prefers him to eat a different sort of meals. At least once a week, he eats steak and eggs.
After eating, Poppy starts a bath. Out of the many types of gifts the Dark Lord brings to him, they include scented soaps and oils and lotions. His morning routine include happily abusing them. He takes a nap surrounded by bubbles while Poppy cleans his hair and uses a large sponge to wipe him clean. She uses a razor and eliminates the hair on his body which, like the strands that grow on his head, are wild and thick when left alone. At first he found it found not to have any armpit hair, but he's grown used to it. Likes it, in fact.
Poppy dries him off and helps him choose what to wear for the day. The Dark Lord included a outrageously large closet to his chambers, filled with every sort of thing he could ever possibly wear in every blasted color and sometimes two different sizes, so he can choose whether he wishes to wear it in a size that fits properly or baggy and loose. He wears darker colors most days, but sometimes he'll wear something light and warm. Those are always the best days.
By the time he's fed, cleaned, and dressed, it's barely ten o'clock. Harry reads in his personal library until Poppy tells him it's time for lunch. That's when Harry leaves his chambers, exiting the top floor of the Dark Lord's castle (stereotypical for a Dark Lord to have a castle, though it isn't very menacing) down the stairs to just a single floor down to Voldemort's own chambers. They eat lunch together, every day without fail. The Dark Lord likes to ask him about what books he's read, if he's found anything interesting. He gives Harry things at lunch. New clothes, jewelry, something new to use in the morning to smell nice for the rest of the day.
The Dark Lord insists they spend time alone together, until it's one thirty o'clock in the afternoon. Poppy takes Harry back up to his chambers where he changes. He wears the clothes the Dark Lord wants him to where. It's always something billowing and beautiful, decorated with gold and gems. Poppy braids in thin chains of silver embedded with glimmering diamonds into his hair, every day without fail. It was hard at first, but now his hair is longer and it's plenty easier for her to complete the task. Harry supposes it's like a crown.
At three o'clock, the Dark Lord arrives at Harry's chambers. He apparates them to their destination for the afternoon. Meetings of all kinds, with Death Eaters, at the Ministry, with the press, with large crowds listening, with small crowds listening, with a few foreign politicians or ambassadors. He sits there and looks nice. It goes on for hours and it quite painful to endure, but Harry does so. At some point in time, the feeling of embarrassment fades and he enjoys sitting on a fine cushion by the Dark Lord's feet.
Regardless of whatever had to be done that day, they're home by eight o'clock at night. They eat dinner. The Dark Lord feeds Harry chocolates and serves him different wines, whiskeys, and other sorts of liquors. At some point it doesn't feel weird or like something he can barely stand, becomes enjoyable. Harry loses his leanness, eventually. He becomes soft and he blames the nighttime pleasures the Dark Lord surrounds him with. He can feel his muscle turning into fat, until there's no muscle left.
Over time, Harry loses his physical strength. He can still cast magic easily, the Dark Lord has him use his fixed Holly wand at first, but after a few months he gives him the Elder Wand. He can't run for very long or very fast- his side pinches and he breathes heavily, drenched in sweat. Thankfully, he never has to run. When he does, the Dark Lord catches him, swooping him in his arms and carrying him back to his chambers with a mock-scolding.
All the books Harry reads every morning feeds into his knowledge. He practices all the spells, but at some point it becomes a half-interest. He knows he's surrounded with protective charms and spells, the Killing Curse is the only thing that could harm him and no one would dare cast the Killing Curse at him. The Dark Lord says so and Harry believes him. Some spells he doesn't practice, but stores the information away. He likes knowledge more than he used to, perhaps age has calmed him. He can sit and talk endlessly with the Dark Lord about all the things he's read, though it never surpasses the Dark Lord's own knowledge and he doubts he'll ever be able to come close.
Seven months passed, or at least about that. Harry thinks about his friends less frequently than he used to. His days are filled by the routine and the Dark Lord.
[at some point, he stops thinking his continued existence as merciless. it becomes the best possible thing that could've ever happened to him.]
I wrote this in about forty minutes, I think. I have school tomorrow morning and I really should be getting to sleep, but here I am! I love writing little things to be honest. My other two things I've written have gotten positive responses and people asking for me to continue them. Instead it motivates me to write unrelated bullshit! Sorry!