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The detective shoved both hands in his pockets and scowled down at Voldemort,
"You're saying you didn't cause the fire and you have no idea who did?"
They'd snatched him as he'd stood off to the side of his man's burial. It enraged him, because those bastards knew he didn't set the fire. That he'd had nothing to do with it.
"Correct."
The second detective placed his hands flat on the table and glared at him,
"The bodies of your two men weren't the only thing we found burnt to a crisp inside that building. You know that, right?"
He hadn't bothered to remember their names, and he'd never met these particular members of the MET before, but he was getting a definite hate vibe from them. He grinned,
"I know nothing. I own a candy store, detectives."
He met their disgusted gazes with a small smile.
"What is it you think I do?"
Detective one asked,
"Do you think we're stupid?"
Voldemort shrugged.
"Well..."
The interrogation room opened and a tall, chubby man with a round man walked in wearing an ill-fitting brown suit and carrying a black briefcase,
"Okay, gentlemen. I'd like a moment with my client."
He thumped the briefcase onto the desk, making it shake as the detectives protested, and Voldemort stared at him,
"He didn't ask for a lawyer."
The man pulled a card from his jacket pocket and flicked it onto the desk,
"Yet here I am. Neville Longbottom, any questions you have for my client go through me."
Voldemort squinted at the man as he sat in the chair opposite and began rifling in his briefcase,
"Who sent you?"
He'd chosen not to call his regular attorney because he knew what the cops wanted. He'd done this dance with them many times. They'd hold him for twenty-four hours then let him go. He gazed up at the clock on the wall. He'd only been in there six hours. Neville smiled at him, a warm smile that crinkled his light brown eyes at the corners. His eyes hinted at secrets.
"Don't worry about that."
Voldemort didn't know how he felt about it. Neville directed his question to the two detectives,
"Care to tell me why my client was brought in? Suspicion of setting a fire on a building he has no connection to?"
Neville glanced at the paper in his hand then to Voldemort,
"You set the fire?"
Voldemort smiled,
"No."
Neville asked the detectives,
"Any evidence saying otherwise?"
The detectives grimaced and then detective number two spoke,
"We found evidence of illegal activity in that building."
"Good. Go arrest the owners. My client has nothing to do with it and I demand you release him, otherwise I'll be taking this to court, and we know how that's going to end."
The two detectives paled. Voldemort hid a smile and sat back in his chair. This Neville guy was okay. He waited until the detectives shuffled out the room and shut the door before demanding,
"Tell me who sent you."
Neville stared at him, gaze contemplative.
"Harry Potter."
Not too many things surprised Voldemort, but hearing Harry's name on the lawyer's lips did. And his reaction to hearing his toy's name surprised him even more. He didn't like it. Didn't like that Harry knew he was locked up, that he'd seen fit to interfere where Voldemort didn't want him to. They weren't that type. They weren't that close. They weren't... They weren't anything.
Harry was his toy. They played. Nothing more. He didn't want Harry anywhere near this side of him. Something hot boiled in his gut and a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind that he should end it. This was coming too close to personal, which was the last thing he wanted. Now that Harry had almost gotten caught in the crossfire, it was time to move on.
End it.
He kept his mouth shut and his head down as Neville went through the process of getting him released. Waiting with his hands fisted. He hadn't anticipated having to decide on ending things with Harry, but he should. Especially with everything that was happening with the order. He didn't want Harry in the middle to get hurt or worse. Not that Voldemort cared about him in those terms, but it was a complication he didn't need. The less complications the better. Neville re-entered the room with a smile on his face.
"Come on. Let's get out of here."
Voldemort got to his feet and walked with the lawyer out the building via a back entrance while everyone scowled at him. It was already night by the time they stepped outside. Voldemort pulled his hands from his pocket and started to dial Avery, but Neville tapped him on the shoulder, motioning to a dark sedan with tinted windows.
Voldemort stared. He knew that vehicle.
"Goddamn it."
He shrugged away from Neville's touch and marched over to the sedan, jerking open the passenger side door. He snapped when Harry looked at him,
"What the hell are you doing?"
Harry jerked his chin.
"Hello to you, too. Get in."
Voldemort waved a hand between them.
"This isn't happening. You shouldn't be here."
Harry spoke calmly,
"Get in the car, V."
Neville stood off to the side, a curious spectator to their drama. Voldemort got into the vehicle, leaving his door open.
"That guy, he shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have sent him."
Harry sighed and spoke in a matter of fact voice,
"You got arrested. You needed a lawyer."
Voldemort shouted,
"No, I have a lawyer. I know what I need, Harry. I didn't need him. I don't need you involved in a mess that doesn't concern you."
Harry just sat there, both hands cradling the steering wheel, face expressionless. It was like Voldemort's words weren't getting though.
"You don't belong here. You don't."
A muscle in Harry's jaw leapt. He stared through the windshield and nodded at the police station.
"What about you? Do you belong, in there?"
"You don't know me. Don't presume to know what I need, Harry."
Harry faced him then, eyes soft and watchful. Voldemort took a breath. This was going to hurt. Damn. He reached one hand down discreetly and gripped the edge of his seat.
"Do you think we're friends?"
Harry nodded.
"We're not friends, Harry. Not even a little. You're you and I'm me, and I think—"
He licked his lips.
"I think we leave it as is."
Harry cocked his head.
"What does that mean?"
Voldemort broke their stare, glancing away so Harry wouldn't see anything he shouldn't in his eyes.
"It means, you go your way and I'll go mine. You go back to what you were doing before I showed up and demanded entry into your life. I have to go."
He turned away and Harry gripped his shoulder, fingernails digging in.
"You're leaving me, V?"
Harry squeezed, and Voldemort's entire body burnt with lust at the painful contact. He forced himself to wrench way and get out of the car.
"Goodbye, Harry."
Check out my other fanfic named "Ensnared". It's actually a Harry Potter Version of "The Beauty and the Beast" Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback
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If you have the time, then check out my other Harry Potter fanfic labelled "Desperation" Just visit my profile or click on the link below,