A/N: A new story for you guys. A little angsty, a little dramatic, I just had to write this one. I do not own Harry Potter; it solely belongs to J.K. Rowling!

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse.

Marvolo stormed into the Manor angrily, walking towards his office with frustrated huffs and long strides. He needed a fucking drink. The day had been tiring, to say the least, and an absolute disaster. Minister Fudge had brilliantly rejected all the proposals and ideas put forth by him and Lucius, claiming that Wizarding Britain didn't need those changes. It was an indirect insult to all the witches and wizards belonging to the Dark sect.

But Marvolo wasn't the Dark Lord for any reason. He knew that the Minister was scared of losing his position and power now that the treaty had been signed and the war had come to a stop. He knew that Fudge was using Marvolo to take revenge on Dumbledore, regarding the alliance between Dark and Light. And Marvolo was left helpless; he couldn't do anything because many of the Light families were still wary of him and under Dumbledore's control. He needed to gain their trust if he wanted his ideas to be implemented.

He finally reached his office and pushed the door wide open.

Marvolo eyes widened at the mess in front of him. His office was in tatters - there was ink spilled on his desk, the chair was fallen on one side. His paperwork lay on the floor, and even the paintings were not in their right places. His drinks cabinet was wide open and bottles of bourbons were shattered. It looked as if someone had definitely broken into his office.

He instinctively took out his wand. Who could have come in here? And how? The wards on his manor were not easy to break or manipulate.

He moved forward very slowly, trying to not make any noise when his ears perked up. He swiftly whirled around, moving towards the corner and behind the couch, where he could hear the intruder's muffled voice. The furrow between his brows deepened with every step he took.

"Harrie?" he whispered disbelievingly as he rounded the couch. He lowered his wand immediately.

There sprawled on the floor was his wife, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling and muttering something under her breath. Beside her lay a bottle of now empty Firewhisky and a broken glass. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the deep cut on her palm from where her blood was still oozing out.

"Harrie!" he said a bit louder, a little clearer this time that caught her attention. She blinked once, twice, then smiled at him sweetly, though the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Marvolo!" she whispered in the slightest of tones as if happy to see him talking to her. He hadn't talked or even tried to strike a conversation with her since their fight two weeks ago. And she'd given up on trying to make him understand that whatever happened wasn't her fault. He still didn't trust her, she knew, and their differences were keeping them apart.

It was hard being married to someone who was fated to be your enemy and doomed to bring chaos into your life, after all.

He watched her trying to get up and failing miserably. It was getting on his nerves. He'd already had a pathetic day and now she was behaving like a bratty five-year-old. He moved forward, grabbing her by the arms and hauling her straight. It was only then he noticed her puffy eyes, the dried tear tracks on her cheeks and the deep cut on her lower lip. The anger started to fade away, being replaced by concern for his wife.

"Harrie, what happened?" he asked, gently this time. He'd never seen his wife in such a vulnerable and pathetic state. What had happened today? What exactly had happened here? Had someone hurt her?

Harrie was still swaying; her mind dizzied by the strong alcohol. Marvolo put an arm around her waist to pull her upright and gently touched the cut on her lip, making her cringe and try to get away from him.

"Ow! Hurts!" she spoke. He immediately retreated his hand but didn't let go of her; he could see that it was getting difficult for her to stand properly.

"Harrie, who did this?"

"The desk. It hurt me. I was...was trying to get another bottle of firewhi…Firewhisky and my foot slipped and I fell and got hurt," she tried to form a coherent sentence. Her head bobbed and she finally collapsed in his arms.

Marvolo not knowing what to do, picked her up bridal style and carried her to the single couch that was thankfully not destroyed and still in proper condition. Seating her on the sofa, he kneeled in front of her so that he could look her straight in the eyes.

"Look at me," he whispered and his breath hitched a little when emerald eyes clashed with his crimson ones. It felt like time had stopped in that moment. He stilled when she brought her hands to touch his hair lightly, cupping his face. She rested her forehead against his with a heavy sigh, and he could breathe the strong smell of alcohol coming off her, but he remained rooted to his spot, hands on either side because he had no idea what to do in such a situation.

"You're so beautiful!" Harrie whispered and Marvolo was left speechless, enough that he let her move forward and tighten her hold on him. "I hate it when other people look at you. They are not allowed to stare at you like that, with lust...only I am to stare at you. You are mine," she said, looking at him dreamily.

He had no clue how to reply to her. He knew that he was attractive and had used the quality to his advantage many times, but hearing it from his wife meant so personal, so intimate and so right. 'You're mine', she'd said.

Harriet shifted, putting her head on his shoulder as she hugged him closer, and turned her face to look out of the window. The sudden shift almost made her fall but Marvolo caught her easily, putting both his hands around her in a loose embrace, his chin resting upon her head.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked in a hushed tone and Marvolo could only reply with a slight 'hmm'.

"I don't hate you. I never hated you." Harriet giggled slightly, making Marvolo look at her confusingly because surely he'd heard wrong. Why wouldn't she hate him? He'd murdered her parents after all and tried to kill her too.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"You killed mum and dad because they were enemies. But you're not bad," Harriet nuzzled her face in his crisp white shirt lightly, then looked at him with a sweet smile. "You think you're bad because everyone calls you cruel and murderer and bad things. But you're sweet; you care for Nagini and Lucy and Sevvie and Bella and Barty and Draco and Cissa even though you think no one knows about it. And they care for you too."

Marvolo huffed a little; his wife had totally lost her senses, it seemed. They were his followers - of course, he had to take care of them.

"But I know you hate me," she mumbled, putting her head on his shoulder again. And Marvolo could feel the tears that were on the verge of spilling any moment. He wanted to say that he didn't hate her, but he didn't interrupt her and let her continue, allowing her to say whatever was bothering her.

"Everyone hates me. I don't know why though? Sometimes I wonder what have I ever done to deserve such hatred." There was a distant meaning in her voice, one that he couldn't understand. Something that was hurting her.

"No one hates you, Harrie," he said, cradling her head with one hand, as if trying to assure her, "I don't hate you."

"You do. I heard you telling Lucius."

What? What was she talking about?

"I heard you telling Lucy that this alliance is the biggest mistake of your life. And then you stopped talking to me too." The tears finally escaped, her throat tightened. Before Marvolo could tell her that it was all a misunderstanding on her part, she continued, "And everyone else does too. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, Professor Snape, and now Moony."

The fact that her Werewolf godfather was against this marriage alliance had had a deep impact on her - one that her broken Harriet completely. He'd been her support after Sirius' death and the only father figure in her life. Now though, he was disgusted by her decision to marry the person who'd murdered Lily and James.

On the other hand, Marvolo was confused. From what he could recall, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were her Muggle relatives - ones that she'd grown up with and the ones who've adored her. Then why was she saying that they hated her?

"Harriet, look at me," he urged his wife, making her look at him and he could see how fucking tired she felt. "Why do you say that? Did they do anything to you? Did they make you upset?"

Marvolo hoped so badly to hear a 'no - no, they didn't do anything', but he got a scared 'yes' in reply.

"What Harrie, what did they do? Tell me?" He cupped her face gently, stroking her cheeks, trying not to frighten her. The anger from earlier that day was completely gone now.

"Uncle Vernon burned my hand on the stove because I accidentally burnt his toast," Harrie said and Marvolo's eyes widened, "but it wasn't my fault, I swear. I swear, Marvolo, it wasn't my fault. I couldn't reach the stove, it was too high. I was only four."

He took her hands in his and looked at them thoroughly. They seemed perfectly alright though. And then he heard Harriet hissing in Parseltongue, and he looked down again. She'd been wearing glamours all this time, he realised.

Marvolo let out an angry breath when he took in the appearance of her hands and arms - they were covered in burns and deep cuts that hadn't healed even after so many years. The 'I must not tell lies' that had been carved into her smooth skin, made Marvolo's blood boil in rage. He sat quietly, watching as she lifted her shirt just a bit.

Angry and violent curses flew from his mouth when his eyes landed on the word 'FREAK', that seemed to be sculpted into the pale skin of her stomach with a harsh knife.

"Harrie!" He breathed out, feeling wetness pool into his eyes.

"Aunt Petunia did this when I scored better than Dudley at school. She was so angry. I was so scared," she sniffed between sobs; the tears never stopped. Marvolo pulled her shirt down, now having the strength to see any more scars littering around her body. He knew if he saw them, then there would a killing spree in Muggle London, and that her relatives would not live to see another day.

"I wish you should've killed me that night. I wish I should have died in the Chamber when the Basilisk bit me." Colour drained from his face at hearing this.

"The Basilisk bit you? Harrie where?" She clumsily pulled up the sleeve of her right hand. He saw egg-sized bit mark of the giant monster sitting there.

"How did yo..how?" he couldn't form a coherent sentence but she seemed to understand him anyway.

"Fawkes cried on it."

Marvolo felt something wet on his cheeks and but before he could comprehend, Harrie had already wiped his tears away. He looked confused. He'd never cried in his life - not when the orphanage kids taunted him for killing his own mother, not when the Matron punished him, not when he faced prejudice in the snake-house, and not even the time when his father denied his very existence. But now, he was crying - the wetness on his cheeks was a proof of that.

"Don't cry, please don't cry. I didn't intend to do that. I'll go away from here, I promise," she spoke hastily trying to get away from him as if he would hurt her for worrying him. His brows furrowed, not at her frightened reaction but about what she'd said.

"You'll go where?" he asked angrily

"I don't know. But I'll go, far away from here. I don't wanna bug you. I don't want to be a burden. I promise I'll go tomorrow. Just please don't hurt me," she looked as if convincing herself that it was a good idea. Her words worked like a sharp sword right through his heart - she thought that no one cares about her, that she was a burden on them, that she was not needed in his life. His life.

The thought struck him as lightning - what would he do without her? No. Marvolo couldn't let her go. He didn't know what his life would be without her, didn't want to imagine it. Even when she'd been the enemy, his life, his destiny had always revolved around her. How was he supposed to forget her so easily?

He cradled her face with urgency, looking her straight in the eye, wanting to make sure that she understood what he wanted to say.

"I won't let you go. I won't," he stuttered but the fear rooted in her veins made her cringe at the sudden action. It didn't go unnoticed by him. Salazar, what had he done!

The image of Harriet screaming in the graveyard as he inflicted the Cruciatus Curse upon her, after being resurrected, flashed through the forefront of his mind.

"No, please don't hurt me. I promise I'll be good," Harriet sobbed, starting to back away from his iron grip but to no avail. He could read the fears in her eyes.

He picked her up easily, internally fuming, now that he knew the reason behind her skinny form, and sat on the floor with Harrie in his lap, holding her close. He hushed her, whispered in her ears that everything was alright, and she was safe and he wouldn't hurt her. He rocked her back and forth to make her stop crying.

"Darling," he whispered. Thank Morgana that it worked! Harrie stared at him with puffy eyes - full of past pain and fear. He smiled at her, an encouraging and loving smile.

"I won't let you go anywhere, do you hear me," he said with determination. "This is your home. Our home. And no one hates you here - not Nagini, not Lucius, not Severus and certainly not me. I can never hate you, darling."

There was still hesitancy in her eyes and he couldn't blame her for it.

"And I'll never, ever hurt you. I'll never allow anyone to hurt you. I swear on Mother Magic," he said with a kiss on her head.

Magic swirled around them in thick waves, binding them in an Unbreakable Vow - an honest promise of protecting her at all costs.

He saw as her eyes started drooping close, exhaustion finally taking over her mind and body. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, his wife enclosed protectively in his arms, her cheek pressed against his chest as she fell asleep to the rhythmic beats of his heart. He kissed her head over and over whenever the nightmares tried to scare her, assuring her that she was safe.

He buried his face in the nape of her neck when the tears pooled in his eyes yet again.

A/N: Reads, favourites, followers and reviews are always appreciated. Lemme know what you guys think about it. Good day to all! :)