Voldemort undid his cuffs, and the relief of him finally being back made him breathless. His only company had been Hedwig, perched on the vanity as she'd watched him. This was the first time, Voldemort had cuffed him when he'd left, and Harry knew it was his own fault. He shouldn't have tried to escape. But Voldemort had still been considerate enough and left him with Hedwig, and even though her presence was more comforting than being alone… nothing could compare to Voldemort being back,
"You took ages."
Voldemort stepped towards him, then brushed his fingers through his hair. He loved the feeling of his fingers against his scalp, parting his hair; it made him all tingly and warm. Voldemort didn't notice his dozy expression, and he seemed to be searching for something in his hair,
"What are you looking for?"
Voldemort made a thoughtful sound,
"Your wound is healing nicely."
Voldemort was silent for a moment, but Harry could hear what he wasn't saying…He was healing and soon enough he'd have to go back to Hogwarts and pretend that everything was sunshine and rainbows…when it wasn't… It wasn't…
Would Voldemort really allow him to leave though or would he simply snap his neck like he'd done with the magpie? He was surprisingly fine with the second option since he'd had some time to brood on it. Initially it had terrified him but now…now it didn't…It would actually be a mercy if Voldemort killed him at the end of this because he couldn't…he couldn't imagine going back to life again…
Voldemort brushed his fingers against his lips as he spoke,
"Come and help me with lunch."
Harry let out an internal sigh of relief as the air between them grew lighter again,
"I'm not chopping the onions."
Voldemort chuckled,
"But you are so good at it."
Harry countered,
"How about you do the onions, and I do everything else."
Voldemort frowned,
"You cannot stand for long."
He argued,
"I can stand long enough to make…"
Voldemort finished,
"Tomato Bruschetta."
"Yeah, that."
"Okay, I will chop the onion, and talk you through the rest of the dish."
Harry smiled,
"Deal."
It wasn't easy to stand in the kitchen with his head that kept spinning… After Voldemort had finished the onions, he hovered behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. A few times he held on to his hips, seemingly to steady him, but Harry suspected it was just an excuse to touch him.
Voldemort had turned the radio on today and Harry enjoyed the background noise that the music provided. It distracted him from the thoughts that lurked at the dark corners of his mind.
A song came on the radio, and then Voldemort stiffened, then flexed his hands on his hips,
"What is it?"
"I quite like this song."
Voldemort tugged him away from the counter,
"I'm chopping the tomatoes…"
"In a minute,"
Voldemort said, encouraging him to turn. He ended up wrapping his arms around Voldemort's neck, and Voldemort held on to his lower back. Voldemort's gaze found his lips, and he stared at them as they swayed to the music. Heat flared through his body, a nervousness took over him, and he thought of something to say to break the charged atmosphere,
"I didn't know the fearsome Dark Lord could dance."
Voldemort ignored him and snaked his hand up to the back of his head, applying pressure. Harry thought he was going for a kiss and stiffened in anticipation, but instead he held his head close, so their cheeks were together as they swayed.
Without Voldemort's gaze, he relaxed into his hold, allowing himself to be rocked back and forward in time with the song. Voldemort's steady heartbeat calmed his rampant one, and he ended up closing his eyes, clinging onto Voldemort's neck.
When the song finished, and the next one started, they kept holding on and swaying. It was only when the advertisements came on the radio that Voldemort lessened his grip. He kissed Harry's cheek, so close to his lips they tingled at the contact. Voldemort still had his arms around him, still held onto him as their gazes met. His heart punched into life again, and he thought about how easy it would be to lean in. To apologize for the ugly swelling on his lip by kissing it better. His stomach grumbled against Voldemort's. They both looked down, and Voldemort smirked.
"That's one way to break the atmosphere…"
Harry detached himself from Voldemort and clung onto the counter. He took a few deep breaths, feeling Voldemort's gaze on him, then managed to calm down.
"You need to stop doing that."
Voldemort asked in mock innocence,
"What?"
"Trying to kiss me, complicating things, confusing this."
Voldemort leaned back against the table,
"There are no complications on my side, but just to make it absolutely clear. I want you, Harry, all of you."
Harry shook his head,
"You can't have me."
Voldemort sighed,
"And you want me, too, so ask yourself, who is the one being complicated and confusing things?"
Harry wanted to cry out in frustration. How did Voldemort know him so well? How did Voldemort manage to unnerve him so easily? He stared at the stove,
"It's not going to cook itself."
Voldemort smirked,
"Very true."