The approaching sunset had stained the sky a vibrant orange color, and the soft lighting and lengthened shadows had drenched the flowers surrounding him in deeper luscious hues. Harry stood alone amidst the intricate flowerbed and hedgerows making up to manor's gardens, the pleasantly warm air of early evening gently brushing against his cheek perfumed by the mingling scents of the countless flowers, directly in front of a massive well-groomed rose bush laden with enormous blood red blossoms. With a delicate touch he reached out and ran a single satin petal between his forefinger and thumb, the pale skin coming away stained a light shade of crimson.
Large hands with spindly fingers came to rest on his shoulders and the raven melted against the black-robed chest of the older man who had come up behind him without a sound. "You seem to have quite a fascination with my roses, Harry. Of all the flowers in the garden, why these?"
"Why roses?" the raven repeated, tilting his head questioningly to one side; Voldemort took the opportunity to begin stroking one long finger up and down the column of his throat. "I've always liked them. I like all flowers." His expression crinkled up. "Well, not Petunias."
"But why, Harry? Surely you've a reason? Tell me," he coaxed. "I am not a man who abides well by knowledge which I do not possess."
"They're simple-just a red flower-and yet there's something about them that's…timeless. They're the symbol of everything from desire to purity and of many countries including England. They're something that's able to be delicate and beautiful without being defenseless." He blinked. "I suppose that I admire their thorns and it's stupidly romantic of me."
"You've thorns of your own, my lion." The gentle grip vanished from his shoulder as the Dark Lord stepped away from him, black cloak and bare pale feet whispering across the ground. "Walk with me, Harry. Your trial is tomorrow; we need to speak, my cherished."
Cocking his head a bit further to the side at the new pet name and casting a final glance back at the rose bush that he'd been observing for the better part of an hour Harry turned away and fell into step beside the tall cloak figure of the older wizard. Green eyes gleaming with curiosity as they reflected the light of the setting sun, waiting for Voldemort to speak.
"You realize, I am certain, that after you have been cleared of wrong doing you will not be able to return here for the remainder of the summer." The Dark Lord's voice cut through the sounds of the evening breeze rattling through the leaves and the chirping of countless crickets in the garden surrounding them. "A port key has been prepared for you to take to the Ministry; the members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix will swoop down on you like vultures and you'll be spirited away back into the 'protection' of the Light. Once there you will resume acting as you were before your…change of heart until told otherwise."
"I understand." He grumbled. "I won't be able to come back at all until I reveal my allegiance to the Dark? Even for a short time when I can sneak away?"
Sharp teeth were flashed in a brief smirk as he reached out to stroke his hair. "Perhaps for Samhain and the Winter Solstice, though you'd have to be in disguise before being allowed to mingle with my Death Eaters and we cannot risk you returning to my side more often than these two important holidays."
"It's better than nothing," Harry grumbled as he edged carefully around the stone rim of a garden pond. "I'll quickly find myself counting down the days until then, I'm sure. Even while trying to play at who I was I've changed too much to be able to pull it off; there will be questions."
"Put through a tournament meant for adults at only the age of 14; a friend killed before your eyes; forced to witness the Dark Lord's return; abandoned by those who should have protected you; crucified in the public eye by the Ministry's rag. You've been through so much, my lion; you've a right to be angry and of course you've changed."
"They'll be concerned."
"But they won't question the origin of your difference further. I trust that you'll be capable of fending off the concerns of your former 'friends'."
The raven dipped his head. "I am." He said. "They'll ask where I've been. What should I tell them?"
"An edge of truth, my lion." The Dark Lord replied. "Make use of the Slytherin side that you've so long suppressed. Let me hear you weave a tale for the Light to swallow."
Invent a story? Tie together threats of truth and lies into something believable not just for Ron and Hermione but for Sirius and, most importantly, Dumbledore as well?
"I've been with a recently taken lover." The first explanation that popped into mind which was simply understood and did not involve any form of Dark Magic. From the brief but heated glance which he received Harry took it that Voldemort was not in objection. "Named…Nero. Julian Nero." Ridiculously pretentious sounding: seemed that this imagined lover was a Pure Blood. "We first met…" when? When could they possibly have met that Ron and Hermione wouldn't have known? His holidays were spent at the Burrow. His summers stuck indoors at Privet Drive. "We met…"
That was it! During the time between the start of the Tournament and the first task when he and Ron had become distant and he'd withdrawn from Hermione as well. Choosing to spend his time either alone or with Neville instead until Ron had warned him-through obscure code and Hermione-about the Dragons.
"We met at the Triwizard Tournament last year, after Ron went after me about putting my name in the Goblet of Fire before the first task. He expressed interest in me; in who I was not because I was the 'Boy Who Lived'. Believed me about your return when no one else did. Gave me an emergency portkey which I used to escape from the Ministry Officials who came to snap my wand. It was while I was hiding out at his manor that we fell-."
Stop. Stop! He cut himself off mid-sentence, eyes wide and somewhat frightened as he stared at the Dark Lord: his expression hadn't changed outwardly but something bordering on bitterly displeased had begun boiling across their link.
"Became involved." Harry finished weakly, voice sounding very dry. Thankfully, the displeasure ebbed away a moment later.
"You will stick to this story, Harry?" the raven nodded mutely. "Very well. I will assume the persona of Julian Nero in correspondence with you."
"I understand."
"You will not wear Muggle clothing tomorrow: you will dress your best, instead, in wizarding clothing to better make for yourself the best possible impression. Even with a favorable outcome almost assured it is best that we have everything possible within our favor."
Harry said nothing.
"Return inside; the Elves will bring dinner to you within the hour. Wash up and sleep. You'll leave early come morning."
His dismissal clearly understood the raven left the Dark Lord standing in the garden and hurried quickly up to his room. Filling the large tub in the adjoining bathroom and carefully choosing his outfit for the next morning; the same black robe with silver buttons which he had worn before.
Harry slipped into the warm water and leaned his back against the granite wall of the in ground tub with a heavy sigh. The coming months, he felt certain, would be very long indeed. After thoroughly shampooing his hair and washing up with the vast array of expensive bath products he soaked in the tub for a while longer until the telltale pop of one of the House Elves arriving with dinner reached his ears. Only then did he emerge from the water, dry himself quickly and exit the bathroom throwing himself carelessly onto the bed with his black hair still damp and not bothering to redress himself.
A light meal of fruit, cheese, sausage and crackers but that suited him perfectly fine. Harry lounged there and ate, gaze slowly panning around the room where he'd lived during his stay doing what he could to put the contours and colors to memory, knowing that it would be unlikely that he'd encounter such excess again anytime soon. It had been daunting at first to be surrounded on all sides by ridiculous wealth but he'd since acclimated to it and now, knowing he'd soon have to go back to a crowded dorm room and shared bathrooms-not to mention wherever he'd be ending up for what little remained of the summer once the Order caught him-he'd have to admit that he wasn't particularly happy.
Setting the finished tray down on the floor beside his bed, Harry curled up beneath the silken sheets. The lights dimming around him as he closed his eyes and made a semi-reluctant effort to sleep. He drifted for a while in calm darkness, entirely devoid of the nightmares which had once plagued him, before a hazy image began to take shape in his mind. Slowly coming into sharper focus.
Harry found himself standing in a wide cobbled street which reminded him vaguely of both Diagon and Knockturn Alley but he instinctually recognized was, in fact, some street or another in the middle of what was once Muggle London. The heavy traffic, rushing business professionals and towering office buildings were gone replaced entirely with Magical establishments. Witches and Wizards surrounded him on all sides, a gushing tide towards and away from him; a few sent a respectful "My Lord" towards him but must simply shot him fearful glances and gave him a wide berth.
The sky overhead was clouded and grey. Harry looked down into the nearest puddle out of the countless littering the street; he hadn't aged a day. A calendar in the window proclaimed the date as the same day and month as the one that he'd fallen asleep on almost two hundred years in the future. Equal parts confused and intrigued and feeling as if an invisible string was tugging on him lightly Harry began walking down the street as well. Going where he was led without really knowing or caring about the ultimate destination. Street after street of once-Muggle buildings and without a single non-Magical person to be seen and ending up walking through the doors of the massive citadel which had once been the Capital Building of London. Making his way down halls and through doorways until ultimately finding himself in a massive cavernous room with stone pillars and vaulted ceilings.
The Dark Lord waited for him there, pallid as ever and still cloaked in the same flowing black robe that he was rarely without, lounging gracefully in a sable throne with Nagini wrapped around the high winged-back. Beside it stood another throne, slightly smaller and empty. Once he'd settled into it the tugging of the invisible string finally stopped.
"You've kept my waiting, my cherished." Voldemort reached out to him and ran his knuckles down his cheek. Harry leaned into the touch, a silent apology which seemed to be enough for the dream conjured version of the Dark Lord who continued his attentions and turned back to face the front, awaiting the arrival of one of his followers to deliver another report telling of their world.
Only a dream for the time being, but not for much longer. The Light's days were numbered and they no longer had a hero to save them, only Voldemort to destroy their precious world as they knew it and Harry to help.