Harry had been apprehensive about the Dark Lord's impending Legilimency sweep. He wasn't foolhardy enough to believe he could keep Voldemort out forever, but if he could just get past this one day, perhaps there was a chance he could protect Theodore from any potential backlash.

So before he arrived back at the manor, Harry took the time to compartmentalize. He sorted his thoughts from the day, burying the lunch conversation as far down as he could, covering it up with his sheer desire to help, to make things better. Because that was the truth of it, that was the fierce determination that he could use to shield himself. Ron and Hermione had always said he saw the best in people; this was no different. He could convince himself it was no different.

As long as there was a chance, he had to try. He had to give the half-formed plan he was nursing in his head a proper go, or else he wouldn't be able to justify any of this.

By the time Voldemort returned from wherever he'd been, Harry was falling asleep in his chair. Even so, the sudden appearance of the Dark Lord was enough to jolt him into wakefulness.

"Have you eaten?"

The clock on the far wall declared it to be eight in the evening. Harry shook his head. He had been too apprehensive to want to eat while he had been alone.

Voldemort summoned a House-Elf and put in a request for dinner, then moved to his desk, flicking through the few reports Harry had laid out for him. "Nothing important," the Dark Lord said conversationally.

Harry watched as the Dark Lord set the reports aside and settled into his chair. Voldemort's posture was relaxed, his expression pensive as he regarded Harry with his dark red eyes, like Harry was an exotic snake kept behind a panel of glass, perfect for observing.

"Nothing important," Harry echoed. He kept his hands still on his lap, kept his shoulders loose. He was glad for the distance between them at this moment, because Voldemort had a tendency to initiate physical contact.

It was customary by now for Harry to expect to be touched; Voldemort's hand resting on his shoulder, or pressing against the small of his back. Those long fingers cupping his jaw or tracing an invisible noose around his neck.

As though summoned by the thought, Harry felt a shudder, not unlike the touch of an invisible hand, pass down his spine.

"Did you have a pleasant day?" The Dark Lord's drawl was smooth and rich, slow like molasses, inviting further conversation.

"Yes, thank you," Harry said.

Voldemort steepled his fingers, tilting his head, and the curve of his dark hair fell across his forehead, shadowing his eyes so that they looked nearly black instead of red. "Let us have a look, shall we?"

Harry straightened and made eye-contact. He kept the tension from flooding his body and threw up every ounce of compassion, every strand of moral fibre he possessed, all the while hoping it would be enough.


Narcissa came by for a visit a week before the wedding. Though her clothing and makeup were impeccable as always, her hair was up in a haphazard bun, loose tendrils curling around her slender face.

"Aren't you busy?" Harry asked her. "With the wedding planning?"

"I always have time to visit," Narcissa said. She only sounded mildly condescending, which was a dead giveaway that she was more stressed than she was letting on.

"Did you not get my message?" Harry asked. "I told Dobby that I would be coming. And the Dark Lord, um, he's coming as well."

"I did," Narcissa snapped out. Then she inhaled, eyelashes fluttering. When she next spoke, her tone was patient once more. "I appreciate your attendance. I know you and Draco were… less than amicable during your time together at Hogwarts."

That was putting it lightly. Harry was fairly sure that Voldemort had been surprised when Harry had requested to be able to attend. Everyone else likely expected him to be attending the wedding against his will.

"It's not a problem," Harry said. "I think it'll be fun."

Narcissa eyed him. "Yes. Fun." She swept across the room to her usual chair and settled down into it. A tea tray appeared on the table beside her, and she poured herself a cup before offering the pot to Harry. Her limbs looked thinner, like a bird's, as if one sharp motion would snap them. Narcissa did not look her age, Harry realized, but she was the age his parents would have been had they lived, if not older.

Harry was reminded of the fact that he would, presumably, outlive her, and his mouth soured at the thought, his stomach churning. He did not think any amount of tea would help him.

"I'm fine, thank you." Harry sat down as well. He had his suspicions as to why she was here.

Voldemort had ceased his regular Legilimency probes. Whatever he had seen in Harry's mind, it had been sufficient enough to convince him to stay away. Harry wasn't about to question this sudden good fortune, and so he had thrown himself into the monotony of his job, hoping to drown his mind in paperwork.

All of that explained why Narcissa was here—not because she wanted to be, but because the Dark Lord had likely asked her to find out why Harry had a sudden desire to attend Draco Malfoy's wedding.

"I hear your work at the Ministry is going well," Narcissa began. "The dragon pox vaccine is completed?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Production's already started. We'll see the first few public doses going out very soon."

"Wonderful news." Narcissa smiled, her gaze warming slightly as she sipped at her tea. "Have there been any other recent developments?"

"Nothing yet. I don't have any other major projects at the moment."

Narcissa clucked her tongue at him. "A shame. Bright young men such as yourself ought to have ample opportunity to prove your worth. Why, just the other day I was telling Draco—"

Harry sat through her monologue, waiting to see if it had a point. By the time she was done talking, it seemed like it had just been another one of her little stories rather than an attempt to fish for information. Harry did feel bad that she was here instead of wherever she actually wanted to be, but if he was being honest, she looked as though she needed the break.

When she stood up to leave there were tight lines around her eyes, and Harry knew she was worried about her failure to uncover insights for the Dark Lord.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" said Harry.

"Please, call me Narcissa. I'm sure I've mentioned this before."

"Narcissa," he repeated. "I just wanted to thank you. For everything you've done for me. I appreciate the olive branch extended by you and your husband, and I look forward to seeing you at the wedding."

Shock splashed across Narcissa's face, her eyes wide and her lips dropping into an 'o' shape. "Yes," she said, obviously flustered. Then she recovered, blinking slowly, satisfaction stealing across her features. "You're very welcome, Harry, but it isn't any trouble. Sirius was both my cousin and your godfather. I would do anything for my family, and you have become quite dear to me these past few months."

Harry wasn't sure how seriously he was able to take that statement, because the first time they'd met here in this mansion he'd been in a padded cell and she'd been his assigned jailor.

But in the spirit of… neutrality, or maybe even some friendliness, he could go along with this. Narcissa had not been cruel, and she had offered aid. The Slytherin part of him that had once wished to use her to their advantage had at last surfaced.

Narcissa hovered in the doorway a second longer. "I shall see you at the wedding," she said with finality, inclining her head in the slightest gesture of respect. "Until then."


The day of the Malfoy-Greengrass wedding was warm and sunny. A spring wedding as planned, with beautiful arrangements of orchids and bluebells set onto tall white pedestals spaced around the venue. Harry wasn't quite sure where they were, as he had never been to many fancy places before, but the surrounding gardens were utterly beautiful, and Harry had no doubt that the inside of the towering, grandiose manor behind them would be just as luxurious.

Harry and the Dark Lord were seated in the front row across from where Astoria's parents would be.

The Dark Lord was dressed in quality robes with silver and green trimmings. Though the patterns and trimmings were simple, the cut was fashionable, and Harry had no doubt the material was expensive.

Usually, Harry went out of his way to dress as plainly as possible, but in this case he had made the exception and asked Voldemort to choose for him. This request had pleased the Dark Lord, who had told Harry not to worry and that his outfit would be taken care of.

So Harry was now wearing a handsome green waistcoat in addition to his dress shirt and dress robes, and there were snake accents on his belt and shoe clasps. There was also a heavy cloak to go with it all, only the cloak was really too cumbersome and unsuited to the weather; it was now hanging up somewhere amongst the rest of the cloaks and coats that the Malfoy House-Elves had taken at the entrance.

Since this was a wedding between two wealthy families, Harry fully expected the entire ordeal to take upwards of six hours. There would be the ceremony, the reception, the dinner, and then the dancing. Harry really hoped that no one was expecting him to dance, though he suspected Narcissa would convince him to make an attempt at it.

Voldemort had been silent and solemn for most of the morning. Harry wondered what the Dark Lord was thinking about; if he attended weddings often, and if so, what he thought of them. Perhaps attending the wedding was a chore, something he did for appearance's sake. Because the Malfoys were a rich and powerful family, part of the Dark Lord's inner circle of valued Death Eaters, and that meant they were given preference.

"Nice weather we're having," Harry said in a low voice, just to see what sort of response he'd get.

The Dark Lord turned to look at him. Voldemort's jaw twitched, perhaps with mirth, perhaps with incredulity, and Harry had to suppress a sudden urge to grin.

"The weather," Voldemort said, as though to check whether he had heard correctly.

Harry nodded, tight-lipped, thinking maybe he'd finally gone mad and that was what had prompted him to make small talk with the Dark Lord. "Mhmm."

"I suppose you have been making good use of it," Voldemort allowed. "The nice weather, that is."

Harry had taken advantage of the Dark Lord's continued generosity and gone for a walk whenever he had had time.

But whenever Harry went outside, Nagini was there. Not always nearby, but typically she was somewhere in the woods, which meant that Harry would catch frequent glimpses as he stomped around the grounds. Nagini had also spoken to him a few times; the Dark Lord must have asked her to keep track of Harry whenever he ventured outside of the manor.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Thank you for that, by the way."

Voldemort's scrutiny fell upon him again, weightier than before. Harry felt the telltale brush of surface Legilimency across his mental shields. He could now recognize that touch at any distance; it was a part of him.

And so Harry was calm. He had nothing to hide, his intentions were good, and he meant no harm.

Voldemort must have been satisfied with the response he perceived, because he returned his attention to the front of the venue.

More minutes dragged on. Harry shuffled in place on his chair. It was a comfortable chair—he just couldn't seem to get comfortable in it.

"Are we here early?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

Harry wished he had a way to tell the time, or at least a better excuse to ask for one. All the places he was allowed in had clocks on the walls, and when he was outside on his own it tended to be late at night, when the hour didn't matter.

A pair of workers scuttled past them, heads ducked low, arms encumbered by armfuls of shrunken wooden boxes.

"Harry!"

Harry jolted upright. It was Theodore's voice, Harry thought as he swung around.

Theodore dressed in black robes with a pinstripe pattern, a pretty woman hanging onto his arm, whispering in his ear. She was vaguely familiar and reminded Harry mostly of Narcissa, who held herself with a similar elegance and confidence.

Voldemort, too, turned to look as the pair came closer.

"Theodore. Daphne," said Voldemort.

Daphne curtsied, her hair falling across her shoulders as she dropped down. "My Lord."

Theodore inclined his head and bowed at the waist, echoing Daphne's greeting, though when he straightened, his eyes strayed to where Harry was seated.

"My congratulations to your sister," Voldemort said to Daphne.

"She and Draco are both thrilled that you are here to celebrate this day with us," Daphne said.

Voldemort smiled thinly. "It is a pleasure to be here."

Daphne nodded, eager to please. "Thank you for coming."

"I have yet to see the bride or the groom," Voldemort said, voice neutral. "And the workers do seem… rushed. Do you require any assistance?"

"Everything is well in hand," Daphne said. Her words were steady, her features relaxed. "My sister and her fiancee are very much in love, and all of us simply wish for this to be the best wedding it can be."

"I do recall Lucius and Narcissa disapproved of the match at first," Voldemort said. "I am pleased that everyone reached an agreement."

Daphne offered a response that Harry didn't care for, partly because he had heard all of this from Narcissa already, and so the conversation went on while Harry sat there and Theodore stood there, neither of them willing to speak candidly given their present company.

This was the first time in a while that Harry had seen both Theodore and the Dark Lord together, so Harry paused to take in the comparison that the Dark Lord had previously plucked out of his subconscious mind.

Theodore was much taller than Harry. At Hogwarts, Theodore had been slim to the point of which most would describe as 'weedy'. Now, however, Theodore had grown into his height, shedding that awkward adolescence Harry had only ever peripherally witnessed. Because Harry had never paid attention to anyone at Hogwarts if he could help it; his parents had told him to keep his head down and his mouth shut.

In front of Harry, Daphne had finished speaking. Their conversation had ended. Harry focused long enough to say goodbye to her and Theodore, and then returned to his musings, all the while heavily aware of the man seated beside him.

Voldemort was tall, but his shoulders were broader, and even as a teenager at Hogwarts, he had always embodied a sort of brazen confidence with the way he carried himself. It was an aura that implied intimidation—a coiled snake lying in wait. The Dark Lord spelled danger, as all things that appeared dark and attractive did.

It was difficult for Harry to determine how his brain had made the leap between Theodore and Voldemort. They were two vastly different people; they had contradictory backgrounds.

But there were similarities.

Theodore was a reserved person. He rarely spoke about himself; he tended to ask after Harry's wellbeing instead. He was polite and well-spoken, mindful and perceptive.

And Voldemort, well… Harry wouldn't go so far as to say that Voldemort cared, but there was an element of caretaking involved while Harry lived at the Dark Lord's manor and worked as the Minister's personal assistant. But no, that still wasn't quite it.

"You intrigue him."

Harry stiffened without meaning to. He relaxed himself with some difficulty, then met Voldemort's eyes. "Intrigue?" he asked. He would not ask who they were talking about, because that would give up a piece of control that Harry did not want to relinquish.

"He finds you amusing, dear Harry. A charming crossword puzzle he has yet to complete."

That did not ring true to Harry, who felt he had a better understanding of what Theodore was thinking than the Dark Lord did. So he said nothing, only nodded. The term of endearment prefixed to his name did not escape him either.

A deliberate attempt to unnerve him? Or something more calculated.

Harry was worried what would happen to him upon finding out the answer.


The wedding ceremony ended faster than Harry had expected. Astoria and Draco had opted for a shorter, more modern version of the traditional wizarding formalities. As someone who had listened to Narcissa's endless devotion to tradition and detail, Harry had to marvel at the convincing the newlyweds must have done in order to convince Lady Malfoy to change her mind.

The reception was lavish. Ivory and ochre, with more flowers strewn about in garlands along the walls. Astoria and Draco made a beeline for Harry and the Dark Lord as soon as they appeared in the grand foyer.

"My Lord," Draco said. "Thank you for coming. My wife and I are honoured to have you here."

"You make a very lovely couple," Voldemort said. "You have my congratulations."

"Congratulations," Harry added. "Thank you for the invitation."

Though Draco's expression implied neutrality at best, Astoria smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "It's nice of you to come, Harry," she said. "Narcissa told me you weren't sure if you could attend. I expect it must be very busy at the Ministry now that the distribution for the dragon pox cure is underway?"

"Yes," Harry said. "There's been a lot going on, but I expect things will settle down once all of the initial, y'know, backlash is over."

Astoria made a sympathetic noise in response. "I know Draco and his family are very grateful for the work you have done."

Draco cleared his throat. "Yes. Very much so. If there is anything within my power to help you with, you need only ask."

The light touch of fingertips pressed against Harry's lower back as the Dark Lord chuckled. It took a while for Harry to find the source of Voldemort's amusement, but when Draco's jaw stiffened, Harry thought he knew exactly what it was that Voldemort found funny.

Because this was what Voldemort had done; he had risen to power, and all those who would have once laughed at him for his Muggle surname were now forced to bow, to curry favour, to plead for mercy from their generous Lord.

And Harry, a half-blood with a childhood rivalry ten years gone, was now in a position of power over Draco Malfoy.

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'll keep it in mind."

A camera flashed from somewhere in the corner, momentarily blinding Harry's vision. Draco cursed under his breath and wandered off in the direction of the camera person, likely about to deliver a scathing admonishment.

"I'm very sorry about that," Astoria said nervously. "We hired photographers for the wedding. If you don't want the photos to be kept, we'll ensure they're destroyed, my Lord—"

"No need," said Voldemort. "In fact, do have them sent my way. I'd like to see them."

Draco returned just then, his mouth open, prepared to offer apologies, only Astoria gripped his arm and shook her head.

"We will be sure to do so," Astoria said. "Thank you."

Astoria smiled again, inclined her head, and led her husband away to greet their other guests.


A/N:

harry's plan is intentionally vague for two reasons; one, to keep you all on your toes, and two, because harry deliberately avoids solidifying it beyond its current nebulous form in the hopes that he will hold up better under legilimency.

it's a very dangerous dance between these two... even writing it low key stresses me out lmfao.

next chapter: harry asks voldemort about love. and no, i am not kidding about this.

as always, your thoughts and comments are appreciated! :)