Title: Scheherazade
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Lord Voldemort, possibly others
Rating: M
Warnings: Slash, language, violence, possible character death (not main pairing), Grey and possibly Dark!Harry. Cho, Ron, and Dumbledore bashing.
Summary: Voldemort didn't believe that a bound and unconscious Harry Potter was in his dungeon. Seeing Potter with his own eyes, he plans to kill him. But after months of being entranced by tales, his original plans may have changed slightly. A Harry Potter retelling of One Thousand and One Nights.
Author's Notes: Read the Author's Note at the bottom before killing me, please. Thank you for all the lovely reviews!
Scheherazade
Interlude- Respect
It was the second day in a row that Harry had woken up feeling refreshed. How ironic was it, he thought wryly, that the only time he could sleep without nightmares was when he was under the same roof as the man who killed his parents?
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Sometimes he was almost grateful that Tom had killed his parents. He didn't have to go through all the family drama that his year mates complained about, he never had to worry about taking a date home to meet the folks. And from what Harry had heard about his father, he was quite relieved that he had never met the man.
Did he regret not knowing his mum? Probably, but regrets couldn't change the past. It was time to move on and face the uncertainty of the future, not wallow in the concrete facts of history.
The door opened, and one of the Lestrange brothers strode in. Harry smiled, but not at him; Tom didn't know it yet, but Harry had forgiven him a long time ago.
oOo
It was seven o'clock.
Tom,
Since you've been such a good boy and not bothered me all day, you may come to me now.
Harry.
By the way, I do enjoy your Death Eaters. They're so very intriguing.
oOo
"Before you begin, Potter, I have a few questions that must be cleared up."
Potter raised an eyebrow. "Would this possibly have to do with the whole I-don't-know-what-my-purpose-in-life-is-now-that-I-think-Grindelwald's-not-a-Dark-Lord that's written on your forehead?"
Voldemort automatically raised a hand to feel the smooth skin. There was nothing there! Potter broke out laughing, and gasped out, "By the way, there's gullible written on the ceiling!"
He tried not to look up. He really did. But sometimes Bellatrix went a little more mad than usual, and started writing all over his walls. At this point, Potter was bent over at the waist and clutching his sides. Voldemort scowled, and sent a Crucio the boy's way to make him grasp his hips for a purpose.
The gaiety gradually subsided, and Potter wiped a tear from his eye. "Ah, Tom. No one makes my heart light like you do. Anyway, I'm assuming that your question was about Grindelwald?"
He nodded warily, and Potter continued. "There's this misconception about Dark Lords that people seem to have. They think if you use Dark spells, then you're automatically a bad person. But that's not true. Dark wizards are simply people who use spells that convention deems unsuitable; they're visionaries and revolutionaries. So, while Grindelwald is a Dark Lord, he isn't evil. He treated people with respect, wanted people to join his side without him controlling them, and really just wished that people would broaden their minds about 'Dark' and 'Light' magic. Besides the whole magic diluting thing, that is."
Voldemort internally relaxed. He would've had to reevaluate his entire life if Grindelwald wasn't a Dark Lord. Potter waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, you in there! I'm not finished. I had a point with this question and answer session: that Grindelwald was a Dark Lord, but he wasn't a bastard like you are. Hear me out; I don't like the way you've been treating your followers. I think it's rude, and you ought to be grateful to them."
He spluttered. Grateful? To Death Eaters? They were his minions, his-
Potter cut off his inner monologue. "These people have gone through hell and back for you. Yes, I know you have your whole whiny I-lost-my-body-and-was-a-spirit-for-fourteen-years-thing. No one cares. The Death Eaters have devoted their entire lives to you, giving up their houses like the Malfoys have, no doubt giving you control of their Gringotts accounts, and most of them have gone to Azkaban. For you. I think you can treat them better, if not like equals, and until I see proof of that, you're not getting another story."
While Voldemort was frozen in shock at someone telling him how to control his minions, Potter Levitated him out into the hallway, and gently closed the door in his face. A telltale clicking of the lock was heard.
Enraged, he searched his mind for a spell suitable enough to cause Potter immense pain, when a letter slid under the door.
Tom,
We both know that fighting me is futile. Go make nice with your Death Eaters, and you'll get a reward. It's that simple.
Voldemort pinched the place where the bridge of his nose would be, and stalked away from Potter's bedroom. He felt a migraine coming on.
oOo
"My Lord!" Lucius cried after him. "After searching for the past twenty-four hours, we have found a potion that can revert your body to that of its form in your early twenties!"
Voldemort whirled around, preparing to Crucio the fifteen-odd Death Eaters gathered around him, but he stopped short with the memory of Potter echoing in his ears and the hope from his followers' eyes overwhelming him.
He sighed heavily. He knew when to concede gracefully, and this was a battle he could never hope to win. Clearing his throat, he replied, "What excellent news, Lucius. I must commend you and your team on such a rapid and brilliant success. Why don't you all take the next two days off, to recuperate from such a strenuous mission?"
The jaws around him dropped in tandem. "M-my Lord?" they all questioned.
He wearily waved his hand. "You all deserve to rest; I am in debt to all of you. Be off now, and return in two days refreshed."
With stunned bows and murmurs of astonished gratitude, they all retreated from his presence.
Voldemort grimaced. This nicety idea left a cloying scent in his mouth, but it wasn't too hard to pull off.
oOo
Two weeks later, Voldemort thought Harry Potter was a god.
His Death Eaters completed their missions more quickly than ever, didn't complain about taking watch, offered helpful suggestions that were actually helpful, and were overall spectacularly on their game.
All because he would smile, and say thank you if they handed him something. Or not Crucio them if they made errors in paperwork. Small things like that made his workforce run so much more smoothly.
Surprisingly, it felt a little good to have his followers not cowering in fear every six seconds. He almost felt, for the first time in his life, like he had…friends.
His life was going better than it ever had gone before, thanks to Potter. Voldemort chewed on the end of a quill thoughtfully; perhaps if he was nicer to Potter, then Potter would tell him more stories. It was an option worth considering.
His day came to an all-time high when he received a letter from the boy.
Tom,
I have received several glowing recommendations about you, and I must say that you exceeded my expectations. Congratulations.
You may come to me tonight.
TO BE CONTINUED.
A/N: I'm sorry, it was either a short update now, or a wait two weeks for a next chapter. I know there's no tales in this one, but I really felt that they had to get this block out of the way for their relationship to succeed. 'Tis important for the plot development.
I will attempt to update this shortly, but I don't know when. The Snow Queen will be finished in the next chapter, I promise. Please review; I appreciate hearing all of your thoughts. However, I do have enough story suggestions to make two stories.
If you are interested, I recently posted a Neville/Severus story, and finished my (-shudders-) Dramione series. :]
And as some form of an apology, here is a small outtake, which was unfortunately way too OOC for the real story. Enjoy!
VIGNETTE!
Lucius wobbled into the salon around midday, catching most of the Death Eaters completely by surprise. His hair was in disarray, he had a large handprint outlined on his face, and his beloved cane was missing.
Voldemort stared in amusement. "Lucius, did you walk into a brothel between me asking you to check on Potter and now?"
Lucius bowed hastily, and tried futilely to tame his appearance. "What a marvelous jest, my Lord. However, my current visage was caused only by Potter. Might I suggest that he be given a Calming Potion, my Lord? The boy is clearly unstable."
Voldemort raised the place where his eyebrow would be if he could grow hair. "Really, Lucius? The boy seem quite sane, albeit insufferable, when I left him last. In what ways did his insanity materialize?"
Lucius huffed. "Well, my Lord, if the physical evidence of the attacks upon myself are not enough, I can supply you with plenty more attributes. Upon arriving in the room, the Potter boy took it upon himself to hug me, and anxiously ask me if my stay in Azkaban had left me under the weather. I naturally removed him from my person, and kindly asked him whether he was under the Imperius Curse. He laughed at me, rather loudly, and then inquired that if he was under Imperio, why would someone instruct him to hug me instead of killing me. I conceded that his reasoning was sound, at which point he slapped me, and demanded I give unto him my…"
Lucius broke off and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'pimp cane.'
All the Death Eaters froze. Lucius blushed.
Voldemort blinked, and decided that they would never have this discussion again.
"So," he began awkwardly, "how 'bout them Falcons?"
THE END OF THIS.
BUT THE STORY WILL BE CONTINUED.
