A/N: All of these drabbles were originally posted on the HMS Harmony Discord Server. I highly recommend that any and all Harmony shippers join! Join the server at www hhriscanonbitches com
"WORMTAIL! Release him!"
The ratty traitor wearily walked up to the gravestone Harry was strapped to. He gingerly pointed his wand at the ropes binding Harry to the monument to Voldemort's father and with a muttering of a spell, Harry collapsed to the floor.
"WORMTAIL! WHERE IS IT?"
"M-m-my L-Lord?"
"THE TEA SET?"
Peter gaped at Voldemort before shaking himself back into action.
"Y-yes my L-lord, of c-course."
The rat conjured the cauldron used to resurrect his master into a table and two chairs.
"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort's shrieks of his name never failed to make Peter flinch, for they usually preface a cruciatus, "Bring Harry over to me and pour us some tea."
Harry barely knew what was going on as he struggled to his feet and was unceremoniously dragged over to a table with tea cups, a beige teapot, a jug of milk and sachets of sugar.
"Harry… Harry… please, take a seat!" Voldemort's soft, dulcet tones juxtaposed Harry's rough shove into the chair from the rat.
"WORMTAIL! Are you going to be a good host or not?"
"Y-yes, m-master." Peter poured out two cups of tea for Harry and Voldemort, "M-milk, my Lord?"
"WORMTAIL! HOW DARE YOU FORGET HOW I TAKE MY TEA! CRUCIO!"
Harry stared at the violently shaking Wormtail, not feeling a touch of sympathy for the traitor, and happily ignored his horrific screams. Voldemort released his servant from the curse and turned to Harry.
"Milk, Harry?"
Harry gave a small nod in reply as Voldemort poured a small serving of milk into Harry's cup, before doing the same to his own.
"Sugar?"
"T-two, please."
Voldemort carefully ripped open two sachets of sugar and poured them into Harry's cup. He took three for himself.
"Now, Harry," Voldemort took a sip of tea. Harry did the same. "When I was possessing Quirinus - the poor sod - in your first year, I noticed how you and Miss Granger were… close."
Harry stared blankly at Voldemort, his mind not quite realising that this situation was rather… odd.
"I'm going to let you in on a secret, Harry," Voldemort leaned forward, "Albus and I have a truce once a year where we 'catch-up'. One of the things we talk about is your relationship with Miss Granger."
Harry's eyes almost popped out of his skull at this revelation. He took another sip of tea.
"I've currently got a bet of… Lucius Malfoy's Gringotts vault that you and Miss Granger would get together at the start of your fifth year. Albus - the old fool - reckons it'd be at the start of your seventh. I brought you here for a purpose, Harry."
"T-to, kill me?"
"Huh?"
"Y-you want to kill me, right?"
Voldemort leaned back in his chair and placed his palm on his face.
"Harry, Harry, Harry… what on Merlin's Earth gave you that idea? Have you listened to anything I've just said? No, I don't want to kill you. I'm trying to… encourage you to make a move on Miss Granger!"
"B-but… Cedric! You killed Cedric!"
"An unfortunate loss, but it was for the Greater-Good." Voldemort waved off Harry's concerns, "Now let us get back on track. You and Miss Granger!"
"But I don't see her that way!"
"Puh-lease, Harry. Albus tells me how close you two are! I saw your flowering relationship myself in your first year! You need to accept it within your soul."
Harry considered Voldemort's words. Maybe I do see Hermione in that way… she was stunning at the Yule Ball… and she's been by my side ever since I met her… and her beautiful eyes… and her beautiful heart… and the way she cares about me more than anything… and the way I love her…
Harry coughed and leaned back in the chair and took a long sip of his tea. Voldemort eyed Harry carefully, as though analysing his face to get a sense of his thought-process, before taking a sip of tea himself.
"Why should I help you win the bet, Tom- sorry, can I call you Tom?"
Voldemort carefully put down his cup into its saucer, "Eh… I'd rather you didn't, Harry. It's a bit of a touchy subject…"
"Oh, Sorry, my bad."
Voldemort waved away his apology, "As for why you should help me win the bet… well, if you make me your best man at your wedding as well, I'll let you and Miss Granger live in peace and comfort, along with any of your friends, when I take over Wizarding Britain."
Harry rested his hand under his chin, thinking about Voldemort's proposition. The idea of marrying Hermione filled his stomach with rapid butterflies...
The forgotten Wormtail began to stand up again.
"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort once again shrieked. Harry wondered if he was cursed to always scream his name as loud as possible, "Fetch us some scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam!"
Harry loved scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam! Harry absentmindedly wondered if Hermione also loved scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam.
"Voldemort, I love scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam! How did you know?"
Voldemort tapped the air where his nose was supposed to be, indicating the knowledge that Harry loved scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam was a secret.
Peter came up to the dining pair and served each a plate of two scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam.
Harry quickly delved into his plate of scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam.
"Voldemort, I think I'll take you up on your offer!"
Voldemort gave a beaming smile towards Harry as he tucked in to his scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam.
"Fantastic! Now, when you've finished your scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam and your tea, the Triwizard Cup will send you back to Hogwarts. Oh, and take that boy's body with you, I'd rather not clean up that mess myself."
Harry gave a nod as he used a napkin to clean his mouth of the crumbs of the scones with clotted-cream and strawberry jam.
"Thank you, Voldemort, for helping me see that I love Hermione Granger!"
"No worries, Harry. I'll see you around, I suppose?" Voldemort reached out with a closed fist. Harry gave him a fist bump before walking over to Cedric's body and summoning the Cup to take him back to Hogwarts.
