beta by vanillaghost
Voldemort knew something wasn't quite right as soon as he left the basement. There hadn't been anything to look at in that place, only boxes full of muggle merchandise for the shop upstairs and a few spiders here and there. Dust covered every available surface but he wasn't bothered in the slightest. It was familiar, a reminder of his days at Hogwarts and working in Borgin and Burke's. A lifetime ago.
He considered looking around a little more before he felt it. Something he had no word for. A coldness inside his chest that spread through his whole body from head to toe. Voldemort's eyes flew to the top of the stairs. Potter. Ever since his… death he hadn't felt the boy like he used to before. Like he expected to. The connection was still there somewhere but it was clouded, obscured. Despite this, Voldemort tried reaching out for him and met only silence at the other end of the link. His uneasiness grew.
Voldemort considered letting his magic loose but decided against it. Chances were that someone else besides Potter might be able to sense it. His vision was used to darkness so when he took the left at top of the stairs he saw them immediately.
Two figures, one standing tall over the second who lay unmoving on the floor. His initial annoyance at not being able to sense them vanished when he saw who was down. Harry Potter, in a pool of his own blood, not moving.
Voldemort stunned the other man in a blink of an eye, knocking him unconscious. Lights illuminated the hallway as he kneeled beside Potter and searched for a pulse. Harry's clothes were red, leaking from the wound in his stomach. He knew one thing for certain. The boy couldn't die, at least not right now. Not while that wretched woman had his blood. Voldemort needed him to live. He needed Potter more than anything in his life at the moment. When his fingers found a faint pulse, he let out a breath of relief and cast a variety of healing spells over the damaged body.
His trousers were drenched in Potter's blood by the time he finished. The boy's pulse was back to normal now and Voldemort allowed himself to relax. He was safe, his plans were safe. Harry Potter was going to live. With a swish of his hand, Harry's clothes were back to normal, the small puddle of blood under him disappearing as well. Before standing up, his fingers grazed lightly over the famous scar on the boy's forehead. Over their link.
It was time to deal with the other man.
Harry had a bad taste in his mouth by the time he returned to consciousness. Eyes shut, he listened, but there was only silence around him. His body didn't hurt, which made him wonder if it had all been an elaborate dream. Nothing leaked from his stomach or any other part of his body, Harry decided, as he palmed his wound through clothes that weren't his. He found nothing wrong.
His eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar setting. He was lying in a bed in an unknown room, all alone. The fire burned steady in the fireplace and his previous clothes were folded neatly on a chair. He could see only the forest outside the windows. His wand was nowhere in sight.
Harry was almost out of bed when the door to his right flew open, startling him. But it was only Riddle. The man silently took in Harry's state before coming further into the room and non-verbally summoning a chair right next to his bed.
"What in the world happened?" Harry began before Riddle could even properly sit down. "And where are we?"
Riddle sighed, taking out Harry's wand from his trousers pocket, tossing it onto the mattress. Harry immediately grabbed it.
"How do you feel?"
"Good. I think. But what happened? I remember –"
"You were stabbed, that's what happened," Riddle offered. "As for the question of where we are…. it's complicated."
He stared at his former enemy, only now noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the wrinkles of his white shirt. Had the other man even slept?
"Explain then," Harry said.
"When I arrived upstairs I saw the man standing over you. I dealt with him before moving on to fix you next in case of your death. Bringing you back would have been extremely difficult and bothersome considering you don't have other safety measures anchoring you to this world like I had."
Harry blinked. He remembered how fast his attacker had been. He had only felt the pain right before collapsing. If Riddle hadn't come…
"Did you kill him?" Harry asked, bringing the covers back over his body, feeling colder all of the sudden.
Riddle threw him a look as if he was incredibly stupid. "Of course not. I merely stunned him and kept him unconscious while I dealt with your condition," he corrected with a frown on his face. "Although the occasion never presented itself."
Harry gazed at him for a few moments. "I don't understand. He escaped you? How?"
Harry could not imagine someone being able to get away from Voldemort. No one other than himself and Dumbledore, at least.
"Althea came right after I healed you. Proved I was right all along," Riddle declared smugly. "The shop was a meeting place for them."
"Them? What do you mean by them?"
"They call themselves The Dark Knights. A reminder of the first name for my Death Eaters, I suppose. The Knights of Walpurgis."
Before Harry could open his mouth, Riddle continued.
"Althea is their leader and claimed their goal was to bring me back. Their numbers are larger than I initially thought, and that's only from what I could gather in the few hours spent here."
It was clear from the way Riddle talked he wasn't pleased with their current situation. There was something else about the way he behaved.
"She wanted you back? But why?" Harry asked, eyes fixed on Riddle.
The older man returned his gaze with much more intensity than was necessary. As if he was trying to communicate something without actually speaking. Harry considered asking him directly but Riddle's expression stopped him.
"She had a vision a few years ago. About a future where dark wizards were being hunted. Exterminated one by one. She herself is one of us, so you can imagine what self-preservation can lead to."
"So we're in her home," Harry concluded, finally making sense of what was happening. They couldn't talk freely here. "I get it, but why did her man try to kill me? And what did she steal your blood for? It doesn't make any sense."
In that moment, he missed their mental connection so much. But these were safe questions, nothing Althea didn't know about. Riddle's approving face was the only answer he needed. His posture was relaxed as if they weren't being listened in on.
"Actually, it does," Riddle grinned at him, and Harry almost grinned back. He knew Harry knew. "She's a Seer. She saw the whole thing with the muggle and took my blood in order to bring me back. Of course, in the end she wasn't able to complete the whole process. Nor did she know how, and she missed the most important ingredient."
"And that would be?" Harry asked.
"You."
They both turned, Harry recognizing the voice at once. She looked exactly the same as the last time he saw her. When she delivered the prophecy about the child Harry ended up murdering in cold blood. She stood in the doorway observing them like a mother would with her misbehaving children. Despite the white color of her hair, her skin was smooth and made it impossible to guess at her age.
Althea stepped further into the room, a chair appearing out of nowhere alongside Riddle's, but not closer to Harry to which he was glad. She smiled at him but he did not return the gesture. Standing there under the covers in front of her made him feel vulnerable. However, it didn't matter. He was more than able to defend himself and in the worst case scenario, Riddle was here. Harry trusted his intentions enough to defend him if needed.
"You have my most sincere apologizes for what happened at the shop," she said. "From what I've been told, it was dark and my men aren't very kind to intruders. It's for our own safety. Lucky for you, our Lord was there in time."
Harry didn't believe a word that came out of her mouth. Not even the respectful way she addressed Riddle.
"Yes, lucky me. And now that I have the pleasure of meeting you again, I'd like you to explain the lie with the prophecy," Harry retorted, entirely aware of the sudden tension in the room.
"A lie it was, but a necessary one. That was the first step to bring The Dark Lord back into this world. An atrocious act committed by his very soul," Althea said knowingly. "Or his soulmate, if you wish."
Harry's hands trembled, one clutching his wand and the other wrapped around the covers.
"You made me kill an innocent child."
The witch shook her head in denial.
"No, Mr. Potter, I simply told you something. The decision was all yours. It had to be your call otherwise it wouldn't have worked. Otherwise, our Lord wouldn't be standing here today. The only variable I didn't see after that was you. I couldn't discern that you were the most important part of the plan and I couldn't see the alliance with The Dark Lord."
"I'm sure he understands," Riddle chimed in, eyes locked on Harry's. "Don't you, Potter?"
Such a clever liar he was. Harry was sure The Seer thought his former enemy was manipulating him. Which was true in a way. But as the saying went, 'it is better to deal with the devil you know.' And they both knew each other better than anyone else. There was no trace of doubt about that.
Riddle's plan for all this, because he surely had one, remained unknown to Harry. But despite this, he was willing to go along with it all.
"I do," Harry responded, still glaring at the witch.
From the way she looked back at him, Harry saw she hadn't bought his words. It didn't matter, as long as she thought he and Riddle couldn't really work together.
"But I'm afraid I'm not here to recall the pleasant times we had together. I came to call our Lord downstairs to meet the rest of us. I wasn't expecting you to be awake so soon."
Althea smiled sweetly at him as she got up and gave a little bow before Riddle who didn't seem to even notice her. His eyes were glued to Harry.
"If you're feeling well enough, you're welcome as well," she kindly offered, right before turning to Riddle. "That is, of course, if The Dark Lord allows it."
"We shall see."
His tone was emotionless, a silent prompter for the woman to leave the room. She took it, making yet another bow in Riddle's direction before daring to move closer to Harry and out of nowhere drop a hand on his shoulder.
"Rest well, Mr. Potter."
The contact was brief but it made Harry's skin crawl. She moved to leave when Riddle's voice called her back.
"One last thing, Althea," he chimed in. "I don't like others touching what's mine."
She had her back turned on them so Harry was unable to read her expression as she left. Only when they were finally alone did Harry see the immensity of Riddle's rage. His fists were clenched so hard his veins were showing, a venomous look in his gray eyes. It reminded him so much of his former self that Harry felt a prickle of fear just by looking at him.
"Riddle," Harry uttered, throwing the covers away at his feet. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the other to speak.
"You shouldn't leave the bed so soon."
Harry did not respond and watched as Riddle got up. The taller man advanced toward him and to Harry's utter surprise, he crouched down to his eye level. Harry blinked as fingers closed around his own in his lap. Their faces were inches apart.
"Stay here, Harry. At least for tonight."
It was half order, half plea. Harry gave in simply because Riddle wanted him to. He nodded his head in defeat, gaze tracing over Tom's handsome features. His stare was returned and with a squeeze of his hand, the former Dark Lord rose.
"Wait for me," Riddle said.
"Hurry up, then."
The corners of Riddle's mouth curled up in something akin to amusement and Harry counted it as a 'yes'. The door closed behind him.
When Harry woke up the next morning, no one came to fetch him. Riddle didn't seem to have slept there. so after getting dressed he left the room, wand safely tucked in his sleeve.
They were in a manor. That much was obvious. It had two floors and as soon as Harry started going down them, he heard voices coming from downstairs. There were no portraits decorating the walls. Not even muggle ones. He didn't bump into anyone nor was he stopped from opening the door to what he supposed was the living room.
Men and women sat around a table, perfectly mirroring past Death Eater meetings. Harry was sure he had been heard coming yet all conversations ceased as he entered. Riddle was comfortably sitting at the head of the table, fingers drumming over his armchair. He raised an eyebrow at Harry when he saw him.
"Sit."
Harry returned the cocky gesture but did as he was told. Coincidence or not, the only free chair was to Riddle's right and Harry found himself sitting face to face with Althea. If she was bothered by his presence, she didn't show it. The Seer offered him a brief grin as some kind of encouragement before returning her attention back to Riddle.
"So, My Lord, as I was saying before we were… interrupted. Our numbers will increase once word spreads that you're back. We will make our move and attack –"
"No," Riddle interrupted.
Harry took his time studying the other people sitting around the table. There were ten. Three women and seven men. A kind of inner circle, he supposed. None of them particularly stood out other than the obvious attempt at dressing like The Death Eaters, black from head to toe. One man who seemed to be in his forties with a scar covering his left cheek glared at him when their eyes meet.
"No," continued Riddle as if he hadn't observed the silent exchange. "We won't attack. Nor would you inform others of my return."
"Of course, My Lord, your secret is safe with us. We won't attack now. In a few months –"
"No, Althea, we won't attack at all. Am I making myself clear?"
If anything it seemed more like a rhetorical question but the witch nodded anyway. She was very good at hiding her emotions. Not a single trace of resentment could be read on her angular face. But then again, she had been able to play Harry himself. He shouldn't have been surprised by her acting skills. Unfortunately, the same thing couldn't be said about her minions. A few murmurs of protest could be heard around the table before Riddle's cool voice made them fall quiet in an instant.
"Get up."
Harry froze. So had everyone around him. All of a sudden the air was filled with tension and all eyes beside his were cast down. He watched Riddle – or better said, he watched Voldemort –look at one man in particular with such coldness in his eyes that it gave Harry goosebumps.
"Do not make me repeat myself," Voldemort warned.
The man's chair made a loud noise against the floor as he got up. His brown hair was slicked back and made him appear younger than he truly was. He looked like a teenager, or maybe he really was one. Harry knew it wasn't going to end well as soon as he saw the boy's expression. His features were twisted in disdain as he regarded Riddle directly.
Fool.
"Closer."
It was like hearing a ticking bomb ready to blow. The boy remained silent as he circled the table to come and stand right behind Althea, his posture radiating defiance. Judging from their terrified faces, everyone seemed to understand what was really happening. Everyone beside the boy, anyway. He believed himself to be brave, Harry realized. It was a shame nobody had taught him the difference between bravery and stupidity. Even The Seer was clever enough not to say anything.
Riddle's gray eyes were on the boy who somehow decided it was wise to talk first.
"What's the problem? I thought you're supposed to be Our Lord. But you're not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He wouldn't have hesitated to attack. To sit here like a coward!"
He was on the ground screaming his lungs out right after he finished speaking. Harry saw several flinch and avert their eyes. Riddle had not moved a finger but the boy was howling in pain, scratching at the floor with his fingernails. There was a brief moment where Harry realized he was getting too used to ignoring this show of death and suffering. The Crucio lifted but the boy didn't rise. He decided not to, or maybe he physically couldn't. Only his erratic breathing filled the room.
"This man here seems to question my identity and intentions. My authority," Riddle began, briefly gazing down at the trembling wizard. "Is there anyone else with the same opinions? If so, please step forward. We ought to settle misunderstandings, after all."
No eyes meet his. There were a few tense moments where everyone looked at their feet before Riddle spoke again.
"Very well, then."
He rose in one quick movement, sending a wordless killing curse at the boy. Everything seemed to stop as the body ceased to move. Harry's heart beat faster at the mere power Riddle radiated. It was intoxicating, maddening. He felt as if he was high, palms sweaty and everything. Nobody seemed to have the same reaction. Instead there was terror written all over their faces.
"Everyone leave."
His command was met with eagerness. As Harry rose, he stole a look at Althea who politely bowed in front of Riddle before taking her leave. He made to follow everyone but Riddle's voice stopped him.
"Not you, Potter."
Harry got a few curious gazes from the others but nobody dared to say anything. When the door finally closed behind them, Riddle walked towards him and extended a hand. Harry took it, immediately feeling the unpleasant sensation of Apparition. He released Riddle's hand once they arrived in what Harry realized was their hotel room. He couldn't deny how good it felt to be back here. How safe it seemed. Like home.
His hand tingled from where Riddle had touched him. The man moved to stand near the windows, anger obvious from his posture.
"Riddle? Are we safe here?"
The other man turned, his eyes roaming over Harry and making him feel quite naked under his intrusive gaze.
"You're always safe with me. But I assume you mean whether or not we're being watched right now. Which I assure you we aren't."
That was all Harry needed to hear.
"Did you get back your blood? Did she give it to you?" Harry asked.
Riddle nodded and moved towards the couch. Harry followed shortly behind.
"I destroyed it as soon as I got my hands on the vial."
And that was it. Nothing bonded them anymore. No common goal. They were free to go their different ways from now on. However, Harry discovered he didn't want to. Besides, Riddle would have told him if he wanted him gone. Surely.
"I don't trust her."
"Neither do I," Riddle confided. "But we can't deny her usefulness. The Knights may also come in handy."
"What do you mean?"
"I may be back but for now my power is limited to my magic. My past followers are either dead, imprisoned, or too old to be of any use to me. Besides, I intend to take a different approach this time. I will need influential people, but for the moment they're all that I have."
"You have plans," Harry repeated. "What plans?"
He didn't expect Riddle to respond truthfully, or to respond at all.
"Of course I do. I intend to gain back my power over the wizarding world, and what's a better way to do than conquer The Ministry?"
"You want to be The Minister for Magic," Harry concluded. "That's why you said earlier you won't use the Death Eaters Part Two to attack."
The corners of Riddle's mouth rose at his unintentional joke.
"I do," he confirmed, his elbows resting on his knees. "But it's a long term plan."
"And you think Althea's going to help you."
"For the time being, yes. We have the same goals, otherwise she wouldn't have prompted you to start all this. Yet I cannot know for sure. Her mind is closed to me. Any attempt at going in will be meet with what she wants me to see. Like it happened to you."
Harry still didn't like it. He understood that the whole situation was more personal for him than it was for Riddle, but Althea shouldn't be trusted. Not even as a minion or whatever Riddle considered her to be.
"Look, I understand her talent can be useful but I really, really don't trust her. She literally spied on us."
"Which I can relate to. I also spied on her and she knows it. What I'm trying to say is that for the moment we're going to use each-other."
"I still don't like it," Harry repeated out loud.
"You don't have to."
Harry's hand absently touched his stomach where his wound was supposed to be. Riddle's sharp eyes followed the movement.
"Nobody is going to hurt you, Potter. I made it quite clear you are mine. And no one touches what's mine and lives."
Harry laughed. "How am I yours?"
"As a keeper of my soul, I think I have all the rights to call you mine."
Harry didn't respond and avoided the other man's intense gaze, aware of their proximity. Of how small the couch truly was. He shouldn't think about Riddle like this. Nothing good will come of it.
"Fine. We'll do as you say."
"We? Are you staying then?" Riddle asked.
"Yes. It isn't like I have anywhere else to go." Which was true. "Or something else to do. And who knows? Maybe in a few years we can even change something in the wizarding world. I'll stick around for the time being."
Riddle seemed pleased. The man stood and let out a sigh.
"Very well then. I'll be taking a shower. Meanwhile you can rest."
Once alone, Harry moved over to the bed and lay down. Truthfully, he was exhausted even if he didn't want to show it in front of Riddle. He hadn't slept well at Althea's manor, not while knowing he was in her house. But now he could. Riddle was mere meters away; Harry could even hear the water running.
He closed his eyes.
Harry woke with a jolt and almost hit Riddle who leaned over him, holding his hands down against the mattress.
"You were having a nightmare," Riddle explained, still not releasing him.
Riddle was almost on top of him, shadows dancing all over his face as he looked down at Harry. It was night, there was no fire in the hearth, yet Harry was uncomfortably warm. He tried not to think about his dream. About killing that boy again, and about trembling hands drenched in blood. But it kept coming back to his mind over and over again.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Harry asked, feeling some comfort by having Riddle here with him.
"You were sleeping by the time I came back. Besides, I was the one who told you to rest."
Harry sighed. "You can release me now. I'm awake."
Riddle did not move an inch. Harry tried not to read too much into their position but it proved impossible. The man literally had him pinned to the bed, and he was sure Riddle could figure out every dirty thought he had at the moment. Maybe he ought to be disgusted by such mental pictures, yet Riddle was so handsome it took his breath away. He may or may not be a heartless monster but he was so beautiful. Not that Harry cared. He wasn't better than Riddle so who was he to speak?
Feeling bold, he curled his fingers around Riddle's upper arms with the intention of pulling him closer. However, the man didn't budge and just stood there over Harry. Looking down at him like a scientist would with an experiment. And Harry felt foolish for thinking Riddle would ever want to do this, and with him of all people. When he let his hands fall down, the older man spoke.
"Do not start this, Harry."
Riddle released his arms and straightened himself. Harry blinked before Riddle's words registered and he stood up too.
"What if I want to?"
"You don't know what you want," the other man argued, like how one would lecture a child.
Harry laughed, making Riddle frown at him.
"Of course I do. I want you. And trust me, I'm not saying I'm happy about it, but that's what I want. I knew it when that man stabbed me," Harry confessed in a soft voice, heart hammering in his chest. "Because you're the one I called for. You're the one I thought of before realizing I may as well die. So don't tell me I don't know what I want. I want you."
Riddle raised an eyebrow at him and came closer.
"Are you done?" he taunted, and tilted his head.
Harry's heart skipped a beat, Riddle's words leaving him speechless. There was no trace of empathy in the other man's words or expression. No sympathy.
"If so, return to bed and forget this conversation ever happened."
Harry wished he would have remained silent. Tears gathered in his eyes but he blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. Without so much as another glance, Harry turned his back on the taller man and Disapparated on the spot.
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