Everything is J.K. Rowlings. I only claim the plot. Everything else is hers, all the characters and the magic, all of it. Please let me know what you think though, I encourage feedback of all kinds, just be nice about it!

OK. So I originally planned on writing Harry's Faction Ball but I just couldn't. Nothing was coming. All the bits that I did think of doing could easily be included in Marvolo's Christmas Ball. So I'm sorry if any of you were really looking forward to the Faction Ball but I just could not get it. It took me a month of staring at my word document to finally give it up. And then this chapter happened over the course of like three days, becoming one of my longest chapters to date.

Marvolo was difficult to write because he is a Dark Lord and can't just shrug or roll his eyes or anything so plebian. He is also posh and old-fashioned and highly educated. He's also super possessive. So I tried to reflect that mentality in his inner thoughts as well. I hope it came across well. As a Dark Lord I tried to embody a few obsessive, paranoid behaviors that I think a Dark Lord would do.

Also, he is just a bit hopelessly confused. Admittedly, I think I have him waxing lyrical and monologuing a bit too much but I just could stop the inner angst word vomit. Sadly, he is just as oblivious as Harry to some extent. This is for three reasons: 1) his soul is split with Horcruxes (despite having some returned to him unknowingly: Harry, diary, ring) this is bound to make feeling love and understanding it difficult. 2) he was conceived under the love potion (I don't believe this makes him incapable of love, but I do believe that it might hinder him and I'm sure Dumbledore told him that he can't feel love and not seeing the need for such an emotion, Marvolo just believes he can't and so doesn't consider it a possibility) and 3) being so emotionally distant from others his entire life, he isn't wholly familiar with love. So, Marvolo isn't ready to profess his love for Harry either, but he is more aware of feeling something towards our little Necromancing Gryffindor.

I hope you all enjoy his internal angst about how much Harry is uprooting his life. I feel that parts of this were a bit cheesy and sappy but you'll just have to accept that. I hope you enjoy it, even if it wasn't what you wanted. I hope that I captured him properly and that you all aren't disappointed. Your expectations are all so high (and immensely flattering) and I'm trying to match that with each chapter and not let you down.

Thank you, Marvolo

Harry Potter would be the death of him.

Marvolo had always been certain of this fact, ever since he'd heard that half-spoken prophecy. At least, he'd always known that if he were to die — and he had worked diligently to prevent this outcome — then it would be because of the man in front of him. However, it appeared that his potential death would not occur in the way Marvolo had always assumed, through a deadly battle, but through something far subtler.

"She would not leave me alone!" Harry ranted, pacing a hole into his carpet, but Marvolo didn't find he minded too terribly. With Harry's emotions high, eyes bright, hair wilder than normal framing his face like a mane; he was the very embodiment of a lion prowling around his office.

Marvolo reclined in his office chair — he had custom-designed it for maximum comfort since he knew he would be forced to reside in his office for longer than he'd like to orchestrate the rise of his empire — and watched Harry tug at his hair. It was an annoyingly endearing habit that Marvolo did not ever wish for him to stop. It was nearing midnight and Marvolo would normally be sleeping at this point, because one did not overthrow a regime while sleep-deprived. However, Harry's Faction Ball had been tonight and Marvolo was uncomfortable with the idea of retiring before Harry returned home. Once Harry had stepped out of the fire, stumbling and reaching for his designated sofa, Marvolo should have left for his bed immediately; the safety of his ally had been confirmed and he could sleep now. But Harry had needed to vent, had needed to unleash all of his thoughts and emotions immediately.

Marvolo should have denied Harry the right to do so, should have denied him in order to preserve his own sleep hygiene, should have denied Harry the chance to weaken him in any way. But, Marvolo struggled to deny Harry anything.

The emotion that Harry embodied was something that Marvolo had always noticed about his former enemy. The memory of last June and Marvolo's brief taste of that all-consuming emotion still haunted and clung to him, waking him in the middle of the night with the scorching intensity of it. Now, as an ally, Marvolo appreciated Harry's vibrant emotions. The man was the very definition of life, burning so brightly.

It was ironic, given Harry's Inheritance was that of a Necromancer and he dealt with Death. And oh!, wasn't that a sight to behold when Harry unleashed his wrath and fury and killed in the name of Death. Those breathtaking displays...well that inspired emotions and desires that Marvolo had no difficulties identifying. But, despite being Death's Child — as Harry insisted was his actual title — Marvolo had yet to meet another so full of life, so vibrant, and so passionate. He admittedly felt helpless in the face of it, the warmth and compassion that seemed so natural, so synchronous to simply breathing. Marvolo found himself craving that warmth, that vibrant life, and fearing it in equal measures.

It was terrifying. It was addicting. It was everything that Marvolo never knew he needed. He loathed it and he craved it. It was disconcerting to experience such conflicting emotions and he devoted more time than he liked a day trying to unravel it. He had always prided himself on being superior to those who succumbed to their needlessly base emotional drivel. He was the Dark Lord, he was intimately aware of his own mind, was aware of his every thought and desire. So why was it that this one man — this aggravatingly sensational man — created such uncertainty and confusion?

"I ended up avoiding her after the third dance she forced me into," Harry continued, ignorantly unaware of the turmoil he stirred within Marvolo's soul. "But, Merlin's balls, I had to resort to using Hestia and Flora as my shields. I think Marcus was getting annoyed by how often I was dancing with his fiance. I should probably let him get a few hits in during our next duel, but that bloody woman would not get it through her damn head!" Harry ran hands through his hair making it wilder and even more lion-like. "Can you believe that? I mean I knew Lady Pyrites wouldn't stop pushing her niece but I did not expect that level. You know?"

"I do recall desperate witches during my school years, though they were typically more subtle in their actions."

Marvolo had been incredibly familiar with the advances of both witches and wizards in his youth given the title and prestige and power he had earned himself over his years at Hogwarts. However, he'd never understood the point of it all. To leave oneself so vulnerable to another had never appealed to him. It never gained a person anything either, so what was the point of wasting the energy? Seduction had its uses and lent itself to exerting power and control, but not much else. Besides, Marvolo had visions of intellectual exploration and magical expansion that no simple sycophant would ever match.

Dressed in his newest robes of Acromantula silk expertly tailored to his strong frame, Marvolo could understand the appeal and interest Harry caused in the attendees at the Ball. Physical appearance was another aspect of human interactions that Marvolo never fully understood. It was another thing that he prided himself on that set him apart from the simplistic minds of the rabble surrounding him. He could identify those who were aesthetically pleasing — he knew he himself was one such person, Harry was unquestionably another — but he didn't understand how a person could lose themself over another on aesthetic appearance alone. It was inane and plebeian.

It was another aspect of his life and his own mind that was being called into question by the very presence of Harry. Marvolo wasn't unaware of such hormonal feelings; he had experienced them fleetingly and briefly during his younger years but never at such intensity. The memory of Harry fresh from the shower still ignited a dull heat in the pit of his stomach. The water still dripping down the evident muscles that years of Quidditch, daily runs, and intense dueling created, with his toned body covered by only a towel and Necromancer mark bold on a blessedly uncovered chest... Marvolo felt very much the idiotic fool he always scoffed at.

"Well, it's bloody annoying. I'd be talking with people about my school and then she'd just - just- appear," Harry groaned, flailing his hands about, and collapsing onto his sofa.

Technically it was Marvolo's sofa but Harry was the only one who sat in it because he was the only one comfortable enough in his presence to do so, and the way Harry draped himself onto it so thoughtlessly, so unknowingly, made Marvolo's throat dry.

"I could arrange something," Marvolo offered. Harry gave him a sardonic glare. "My Death Eaters are getting restless."

Harry tilted his head in concern, piercing him with those vivid green eyes so like the Avada Kedavra that he so famously conquered. So unafraid to meet his eye. Though this wasn't unusual. Harry had never shied away from meeting him head-on.

"Are they really?"

"The lesser ones," Marvolo admitted. It was something that was starting to concern him. The political route, the less antagonistic route, was providing him with far more success than his previous overthrow attempt, but his lesser followers, the ones that were more brawn than brains, were getting fidgety.

Harry frowned. "They won't go off on their own will they?"

"You think I hold so little control over those in my service?" Marvolo asked quietly. The very idea of doubt unsettled him, rankled at his pride, and he felt his irritation fan the anger that always simmered lightly deep in his gut, never far from igniting.

But Harry was already shaking his head. "Oh no, I believe you have full control. But well, Travers already circumvented our plans once. I don't want any others getting trigger fingers and slipping their leash."

Marvolo gritted his teeth at the reminder of how his own follower went against his wishes so drastically. The reminder infuriated him and his simmering anger grew greater but he had no outlet. He'd have to call one of the others in for some minuscule failure to relieve the irritation. Because he couldn't take it out on Harry. Not only did the vow prevent intentionally causing harm but Marvolo was slowly gaining the realization that causing Harry harm would bring him no enjoyment. In fact, Marvolo was beginning to accept that the idea of Harry in pain invoked near tortuous levels of pain within himself as well.

Luckily, extracting the proper amounts of retribution from the vile toad should satisfy his more idiotic followers.

"I just don't want to see an innocent get hurt," Harry admitted quietly. And there was that damn compassion that had made Harry such a formidable adversary and an aggravating ally.

"They won't."

"Okay."

The honest, simple acceptance and trust placed on a single word probably inspired more gut-punching mystifying emotions than the sight of Harry's green eyes sparkling with righteous fire did. Marvolo never knew how to respond to Harry's statements that yanked the floor from beneath him. No one had ever spoken such things without the hopes of gaining something in return; no one but Harry.

A yawn split Harry's jaw and Marvolo tracked the hand that ran through those infuriatingly messy dark locks. A cold fury burned within him at the sight of the scars on the back of Harry's hand. He'd always noticed the scars, ever since Harry had started living with him months ago. Any potential weakness was noted and calculated, no matter who he encountered, but Marvolo had never understood the significance of the scratches that stood white against darker skin. Ever since Harry had told him, had admitted to the horror of last year, had spoken in such a timid way, a possessive rage had taken hold of him like nothing he had ever experienced. And Marvolo had been planning on the abduction and subsequent torture of the woman who had instigated Harry's personal hell all last year ever since. Anger was something Marvolo was well acquainted with and he could respond accordingly with the same calculating efficiency that he approached and conquered everything else in his life.

"I suppose we should be getting to bed. Sorry for keeping you up so late," Harry said, standing and gracing Marvolo was such a sleepy and innocently genuine smile that Marvolo's chest ached at the sight.

What was this magic Harry had cast? Marvolo had suspected potions at first when he first acknowledged these stirrings the day Harry had threatened to leave if his submission was demanded. But Marvolo had been casting detection spells every morning and night since he had learned them back in his Fifth Year of Hogwarts and while his House Elves were annoyingly besotted with Harry, they were still blindly loyal to him and so his food and drinks were safe; thus making that theory impossible. The question still plagued him though, it always did in the darkness of the night when he mentally reviewed his every action of the day. Analyzing his actions and thoughts to become even more efficient the next day.

"Not at all, your insight into the trivial matters is both enlightening and entertaining." And why was it that he said such nonsense statements such as that? It was hardly the first time he had spoken so candidly to Harry and again, Marvolo could not understand his inability to stop the words from being spoken.

Harry, of course, did not think anything odd about this admission and instead grinned brightly, his cheeks endearingly redder, no doubt from the passion of his rants minutes ago, and matched his stride to Marvolo's as they left the office.

As they walked, perfectly in step with each other, Harry rambled about his lessons and how headache-inducing Arithmancy was. It was amusing and relaxed, an interaction that Marvolo could never and had never experienced with another person. Any other would either be trembling in fear of saying something Marvolo disagreed with or they would be angling for something, most likely assistance in the subject as was the case during Hogwarts. But no, Harry was just talking. Content to just tell Marvolo his opinions without expectation.

It was nice.

This close, Marvolo could feel the heat that always radiated off of Harry, the warmth and fire that the man embodied in all his actions; no doubt from the constantly burning passionate fire that seemed to always consume the man. Marvolo wanted desperately to soak in that warmth, to draw Harry closer in the hopes that his heat might thaw out his own perpetually chilled body but Marvolo refrained as he always did. The fear of being burned, scalded by the very heat he craved, kept him at a distance. The few times he'd actually touched Harry were forever etched into his skin, so fiercely intense that Marvolo had expected blisters and burns covering the points of contact. Strangely, having experienced that fire so directly against his own skin made Marvolo want it, even more, making it that much harder to resist. Why did he crave his own obvious destruction?

The two reached their wing and Marvolo placed his hand on his doorknob but kept his eyes on Harry. Despite allowing Harry to live in his own personal wing and the fact that Harry had lived there for many months now, already privileged to more access and knowledge than any other, Marvolo still felt agitated at opening the door to his own room within view of another.

"Night, Marvolo," Harry said with a sleepy smile and a half-hearted wave. Harry pushed his own door open and sent one last smile at Marvolo before the door shut.

"Goodnight, Harry," Marvolo replied, even though Harry's door was already shut.

Exhausted by his own confusion and emotions, Marvolo opened his own door and shut it quickly, and began casting the same protection and defensive spells that he had cast on every bedroom door he slept behind every night of his post-Hogwarts life. In Hogwarts, he had cast them around his bed once he learned them in the Third Year. It was an ingrained paranoid habit that he'd never shake. His room though darkly lit was decorated in emerald green sheets and cushions, a creamy white carpet, and dark wood accents. There were very few items in his room outside of the basic furniture necessities. He had no personal items on display, his bookshelf held ancient texts that he was currently in the process of reading, and his desk held a few neatly ordered pieces of parchment but was rarely used.

Satisfied, he began his nightly routine. He cast the detection spells on both himself and his clothing and drank the cleansing potion he brewed weekly, as he had been doing since he learned of the potion in his Fourth Year. He then pulled on his sleeping attire, again casting detection spells on them before pulling them on. He then went through his standard nightly ablutions, reviewing every detail of his day as he did so, before slipping under the covers of his highest quality silken sheets. His sheets were a luxury his childhood self had always craved when huddled under his threadbare sheets in the orphanage and one of his first purchases once he had the funds.

Nagini lay coiled in front of his fireplace that was constantly alight due to the persistent chill that permeated from Marvolo's very core. During the day he either suffered through the cold, cast warming charms or if he entered a room with a fireplace he ensured that it would be lit. Marvolo blamed the resurrection potion for his below-average temperature. He might have fixed the physical effects, such as his appearance and the aching pain he had been in, but he hadn't been able to correct his lowered body temperature. The fleeting memory of the heat that Harry radiated infiltrated his mind as Marvolo succumbed to sleep.

His quill scratched against the parchment as he wrote the second draft of a treaty he hoped to push forward to the Veela, werewolf, and vampire communities. Fenrir's signature was already a guarantee, however, Marvolo was still working on the other two and they were being particularly obstinate. It would go through multiple more drafts before he even released it for the communities in question to review but it was paramount for it to be perfect before anyone else read it. It would not do to submit subpar work to potential allies, where a slight mistake of words could forever tarnish and ruin his reputation.

At the thought of allies, Marvolo returned his quill to the inkwell and breathed in the silence of his office. A few months ago Marvolo would have appreciated the silence, the emptiness; now it felt uncomfortably lonely. One of the many perspectives that were being adjusted in the past few months. And Marvolo was fully aware of why that was. More accurately, Marvolo was fully aware of who was the catalyst for these altered views even while he still struggled to accurately pinpoint the why.

Marvolo prided himself on being a man who was well versed in the intricacies of his own mind. He held firm in his mantra that not knowing one's own mind led to weakness and ignorance which led to mistakes and faults which led to death. Marvolo could not abide weaknesses, despised ignorance, and barely tolerated mistakes. And the fact that he still could not determine the reasoning for these desires that Harry called forth drew more time and energy than he wished to admit. It was becoming frustratingly difficult but he was never one to back away from a challenge. Marvolo thrived on challenges, on being challenged. This was no different, even if it seemed that Harry's entire existence was solely to challenge him.

Thoughts of his partner, his ally, his… friend? drifted through his mind unbidden as they typically did, more often than not in recent weeks. Marvolo had never had someone he considered a friend before but Harry had called him one on more than one occasion. And going by the basic definition and understanding he had garnered from his followers and his vast readings, then he supposed Harry more than qualified. However, with Harry in mind and the reigning silence of the office, Marvolo felt uneasy. Harry hadn't mentioned plans to leave at breakfast, so where was he? Marvolo supposed it wasn't abnormal for Harry to work in the privacy of his own room or in the library but typically during the day, especially in recent weeks and months, he would be found in Marvolo's office taking up the sofa and a coffee table and working on his own things, bouncing ideas off of Marvolo when dealing with a problem.

Maybe once he located the man Marvolo's mind would be satisfied and he could return to work, he had many missives to write and plans to make after all. Fenrir was being childishly annoying and impertinent with his constant letters all in regards to Harry and his relationship status and Marvolo wished to curse the werewolf for such direct interest. Why was the werewolf so interested? Harry appeared disinterested and displeased whenever the werewolf was brought into the conversation, so hopefully, that meant any advances would be immediately rejected. Not that it mattered. It was of no importance to Marvolo if Harry became romantically entangled with anyone. Because Harry was, of course, free to accept anyone's advances. The stabbing heat in his chest at the thought of Harry's attention on anyone else though...well Marvolo was certain that would fade.

Marvolo also had a meeting with a few of his followers in an hour that he needed to be ready for. So he would quickly search for Harry so that his mind would settle and allow him to get work accomplished. Marvolo also needed to inform Harry that he wouldn't be available that night in the library, his workload would be too high. He was certain that Harry would be accepting of this and would probably join him in his office anyway, and being a Dark Lord he really shouldn't lower himself to informing others that an unset schedule was changing. Despite knowing all of these things, his feet lead him out of his office in search of his elusive ally.

Knowing his own mind as he did, Marvolo could admit that one of the reasons he sought Harry out so frequently was to simply assure himself that Harry was still there; still present in his manor and under his roof. Witnessing proof that Harry still wished to tolerate his presence with no other motive but that he wanted to. Another puzzle to decipher to be certain: Why would Harry wish to spend his days with him? Marvolo logically understood the need for the alliance, it was a simple survival necessity, a means to achieve a mutually desired end. He had been impressed when Harry had shown up and proposed the venture. And while at the time Harry hadn't had another home suitable for living, the same couldn't be said now. The claim for protection could technically be satisfied with a few wards that Marvolo could place around whichever residence Harry chose to inhabit. Not that he wished for Harry to vacate the manor, the very thought made him feel ill. The fact that Harry chose to spend his meals and evenings willingly in his presence — and seemingly enjoyed doing so — did disturbing things to Marvolo's chest. He would only admit it in the private recesses of his own mind but those nights in the library, sipping tea, and enjoying the fire were becoming his favorite parts of his entire day; creating some of the best, most comforting memories of his life.

A persistent, terror-filled thought niggled at the back of his mind about what Harry would do when he discovered the more inhuman actions Marvolo had done, namely his Horcruxes. As a Necromancer, Marvolo couldn't be certain how Harry would feel at the thought of Marvolo making multiple Horcruxes but felt confident in his assumption that Harry would be most displeased, possibly even furious. Would such a discovery lead to Harry leaving though? Would that be the line in the sand that Harry would not tolerate? He knew Harry suspected something, the man was far more intelligent and perceptive than most gave him credit for, but Marvolo would do all he could to keep the knowledge from him for as long as possible. The idea of Harry leaving him, abandoning him, deserting him to the endlessly empty days from before hurt worse than the cruciatus to the chest. Marvolo was a selfish man. He would keep Harry in ignorance to stretch the blissfully full days for as long as he could.

A distant crash pulled Marvolo immediately from his thoughts. His wand was drawn and he was in his Entrance Hall, the location of the disturbance, in seconds. Curses coated his tongue, eager to be fired, but he stopped short at the sight before him instead. It seemed a forest had exploded in his Entrance Hall. Harry pushed himself off the floor, evergreen twigs stuck in his unruly hair.

"Did you desire a fight against shrubbery and lose?" he asked, still trying to understand what was happening.

Harry snickered and rolled his eyes. His entire body relaxed and at ease, as it had been for months now. Marvolo struggled to recall the last time Harry had seemed tense or wary in his presence.

"I'm decorating."

Still perplexed and nonplussed, Marvolo blinked. "Why?"

"Christmas is just over a week away and there is nothing in here to show for it. This is my first time actually being able to decorate for the holidays and I won't waste it." Harry ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the clinging twigs before flicking his wand to lift a ladder and reposition the greenery to its original position from where it had been torn down when he fell. Garland accented the doors leading off of the Entrance Hall and his front door and encircled the stairwell. There was also an overly large, extravagant, tree in the very center of his foyer that he felt more appropriate in Malfoy Manor, and Marvolo wondered how Harry had gotten it into the house without him realizing it. "I figured this tree could be super pompous and whatnot because your minions will be seeing this one whenever they visit. I'm almost finished."

Marvolo didn't say anything as Harry climbed up the ladder and continued transfiguring ornaments from a stack of rocks he had apparently gathered from outside. Marvolo debated his options for a response or at least an appropriate reaction. If it had been one of his followers they would have been cursed and screaming at this moment for having the sheer audacity for presuming to decorate his home, for daring to think his manor not festive enough for the season. And if... Well, admittedly, there really weren't any other options. Anyone else in his manor would be killed for trespassing. So Marvolo supposed that once again Harry would need his own category. Still, this unprovoked action, this complete disregard for Marvolo's own preferences, should be denied. Despite his higher standing, Harry should know to not just do things like this. Marvolo needed to deny him this and have him set it all right.

"Impressive, I had no knowledge of your home decor expertise." Or not. A compliment apparently was the appropriate reaction. Apparently, home decoration was not something he could deny Harry either.

Harry grimaced but didn't look away from the task at hand, completely focused on levitating a silver bauble onto the higher branches of the tree. "Hardly, but I did ask Hestia and Flora for advice and they shoved all these magazines at me. I'm just copying the pictures honestly." Next, he hung a golden icicle on one of the farthest branches and flashed a smile down at Marvolo, igniting that blasted warmth in his chest once again. "What do you think? Does it look snobbish and festive enough?"

Marvolo surveyed his decorated Entrance Hall. It wasn't hideous, he supposed. It was obviously not professionally done either. Marvolo was, however, certain that seeing such decorations would cause more alarm and concern from his followers than the intended festive cheer. He opened his mouth to tell Harry exactly that but hesitated. Harry had gotten off the ladder now and was staring at him with such an open expression. Those thrice-damned green eyes, completely eager to hear his opinion and yet nervous about receiving negative retribution. It was hardly the first time Harry had looked at him in such a way but it still dried his throat and halted his words. It was so different from when his followers would stare at him. In their eyes, he saw the eagerness to please and the trepidation of a negative response but their expressions were always tinted with fear and greed and ambition. Harry's eyes held none of that and they never had. It struck chords of fear in Marvolo to be in the presence of someone who had no desires to use or manipulate him for their own personal or political gain.

"It is satisfactory," he said instead and Harry broke into a wide grin that made it difficult for Marvolo to breathe.

"Great."

"You mentioned that this tree would be the pompous one, what other tree have you set up?"

A redness tinted Harry's cheeks, his hand went to tug at his hair, and his smile turned sheepish. "Well, like I said this tree and these decorations are all super posh to maintain your image for your minions, but I thought...well I don't really want to celebrate Christmas morning here in the lobby."

"It's a foyer," Marvolo corrected without thought.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So I thought we could do it in the library and have our own tree in there. A smaller tree, one for just us."

Just us, those words rang in his mind and constricted his chest. The intense need Marvolo felt to have it only ever be him and Harry, just them, for the rest of his life hit him hard. It was terrifying to have such a reaction based solely on two words. No, he corrected himself, not just two words, but two words spoken by one single, particular, person.

"When do you anticipate decorating this tree for us?" He did delight in seeing the redness darken at his words. An endearing and attractive reaction in response to Marvolo and no one else. "Or has that already been done?"

"After dinner maybe? Tonight? I thought if you don't have any work to do. We could decorate it together."

An image of his desk covered with parchment and the looming deadlines he set himself flickered through his mind along with his original intention to inform Harry that the library wouldn't be possible that night. "Tonight will suffice," he said instead. The sight of Harry's brimming happiness and sparkling eyes easily overpowered any slight guilt over the memory of the paperwork.

Marvolo reclined in his chair as he watched the eight Death Eaters in front of him. Lennox Avery, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Corban Yaxley, Julien Nott, the Lestrange brothers, and Patrick Parkinson stood stiffly and silently. These were the men — Emerson Greengrass and Thorfin Rowle included — who were honored with seeing him in his natural form and so he held them to certain esteem. However, Marvolo still let the silence stretch, savoring the complete power he held over these normally powerful, proud men. These pureblood lords — Severus aside, though his academic merits lifted him to a similar status — dominating in all aspects of their life until standing before himself. Harry had accused him of getting off on power and control, and while Marvolo would never say it in such a crude way there was truth to it.

"It appears there is something on your minds," he finally said. "Enlighten me." Marvolo was certain what it was on their minds that left them looking so uncertain and bewildered, and he could just dive into their minds to easily confirm this but he enjoyed watching them attempt to speak freely while worrying about potential backlash.

"My Lord." It was Lucius who spoke, always so quick to speak out, whether to throw another under the bus or to paint himself in a better light. The blonde Lord should have been a Gryffindor with how readily he called attention to himself if he wasn't so callously cruel. "It is simply the change of your foyer." Marvolo wanted to preen at his assumption being proven right, he did enjoy being right even if no one else was aware of it.

"It is the festive season, is it not?" Marvolo asked. This was one of his favorite things to do. Innocent statements to lull his prey before the trap snapped shut. He wondered who he would catch in this moment.

"Of course, My Lord." Ah, Parkinson, it was then. "A most appropriate response."

"You think your Lord needs to bend to societal expectations such as festive decorations?"

Patrick paled. "No, no, of course not, My Lord. You are above such expectations."

"Then why do you feel my actions an 'appropriate response'?"

Marvolo watched Patrick tremble, his breathing speed up. The others stood straighter in anticipation of retribution. Oh yes, Marvolo did enjoy this power he held over them. He debated cursing Patrick just to reinforce his power over them. He held his wand in his hand and moved his arm to draw their gazes to it. The fear grew in Patricks' eyes and Marvolo savored the sight.

But needless torture wasn't needed. At least that's what Harry constantly went on about.

Marvolo withheld a sigh and let his wand hand rest back on the desktop. "Do think before speaking, Parkinson. Wasting air is not a positive trait to hold."

The blood rushed to Patrick's face so fast that Marvolo wondered if the man would faint without him actually having to do anything at all. "Yes, My Lord," the man breathed, bowing deeply.

"May we inquire, My Lord, about your inspiration to decorate?" Lucius asked hesitantly. Oh, Malfoy, always so curious.

"The inspiration was Lord Potter's. He deemed it necessary to bring festive cheer to the manor."

Marvolo didn't need to say this. He knew he didn't, but catching his followers so off guard was incredibly entertaining. As Marvolo had told Harry, it was the little things. And they certainly didn't disappoint. Despite them all being consummate Slytherins, the shock and surprise could not be hidden. Snape probably showed the least reaction. The slippery spy that he was, Marvolo had always appreciated and questioned in equal measures how completely stoic the Potion's Master was. However, even Snape could not stop his eyes from widening. The Lestrange brothers and Parkinson had all lost control over their lower jaw, Malfoy had enlarged eyes and pursed lips; while Nott and Avery were, strangely, smirking, and Yaxley looked uncomfortable.

"Lord Potter?" Yaxley breathed out, before licking his lips to continue. "Do you think it wise to allow him so much control?"

The rage erupted within him hot and fervid and Yaxley dropped to the ground under the intensity of the curse. How dare Yaxley question him. How dare the sniveling man question Harry. "Were the results of Travers and Bellatrix doubts not evidence enough to not question me?" Marvolo asked coldly during a momentary pause. The rage burned hotter the longer he held the curse. As the screaming grew hoarse, Marvolo released the spell and allowed Yaxley to recover. "You already walk a fine line Corban. Your doubts over my desire to further the education of the next generation have not been forgotten. Your ability to pass the legislation through the Wizengamot is all that allows you your higher place at the moment. Do not be so quick to forget your fragile place."

"No, My Lord. Yes, My Lord. Forgive me, My Lord," Yaxley rasped.

"Leave."

Panting and shaking, Yaxley struggled to bow and Marvolo made him hold the position for longer than necessary to drag out the man's misery, shame, and pain. When finally allowed, Yaxley left the room in a rush and Marvolo let the silence fall again.

Marvolo had always been a rapacious and possessive man. He was aware of this aspect of his mind as he was with all other parts of his being — ignoring the gaping uncertainty that Harry created anyway — and in being so aware he could typically curb those childish impulses and desires. However, he never tolerated another disrespecting something that was his. Whether he had won, stolen, earned, or claimed it was irrelevant. And Harry was his: his ally, his partner, his alone. Harry was the first Necromancer in centuries, he was powerful in all aspects of the word, but he was also kind and forgiving and intelligent and insightful in ways that Marvolo had never known a person could be. Harry was so far above anyone else, and Yaxley daring to taint Harry's name with such derision would not be tolerated.

So Marvolo understood that at the basest level he was just feeling the same possessive rage he'd always held when what he had was spoken of with disdain. But this understanding did little to alleviate his inner turmoil about why everything he experienced was heightened to an unlawful degree whenever Harry was concerned.

"Does anyone else wish to comment on my decision to allow Lord Potter the opportunity to decorate?"

"No, My Lord, a most wise decision," Lucius insisted. Marvolo refrained from rolling his eyes at the blatant simpering.

Glancing at the clock on the far wall, Marvolo decided to start moving the meeting forward. Dinner would be soon and he didn't like to be late and keep Harry waiting. "Avery, report." Luckily there weren't many things to go over, so the reports were swift. Everything was going smoothly and most people were starting to forget he had ever returned. The idiocy of the populace was astonishing. The meeting had drawn to an end and Marvolo had admittedly only listened with half an ear, most of his thoughts on that night.

"My Lord," Rabastan said in the silence. If it wasn't Lucius then Rabastan would be the next up to draw attention to himself. "May I be free to speak?" Curious, Marvolo nodded his head. It was rare that his followers initiated the desire to speak freely. Usually, he was the one to grant it. "Forgive me, but it appears you have been distracted this afternoon. Are things not going as planned with the dark creatures?"

Marvolo thought about how to answer that and let the silence stretch, allowing his followers to panic and sweat the longer he thought. Did he wish to seek advice from these men? They might actually provide something useful, but could he lower himself to ask? What was Harry always saying? Being a human wasn't a degradation of his reputation. If things did not go the way he wished, he'd just obliviate them all of the entire encounter.

"The creatures are coming along nicely. No, this is not what is on my mind," he finally answered, he felt an anxious bubble start to swell in his chest at the thought of opening up to his most faithful followers.

"Is there anything we can do to assist you, My Lord?" Avery asked eagerly.

"Yes," he said in a drawn-out hiss that he knew terrified his followers. "Your insight might be of use. It has been made clear to me that it is necessary to purchase Christmas gifts for allies."

"My Lord, I do not believe any ally of yours would expect or demand a gift from you," Rodolphous said.

"No, they would not," Marvolo agreed readily. Harry had never asked Marvolo to purchase him anything, merely stated that he would be getting him one. He certainly had no plans to buy Fenrir one. "And none have demanded such a thing."

"Is this in regards to Lord Potter?" Severus asked softly, his dark eyes narrowed and he looked a bit ill.

"Lord Potter insinuated he would be purchasing me a gift," Marvolo admitted. "Well, he inquired repeatedly about what I might wish to receive before blatantly stating his intentions. He isn't the best at remaining subtle," Marvolo said with a fond amusement that was met with bewildered stares and blinks from the men before him.

"This is expected of an ally of yours to purchase you a gift, however, if he has not demanded one in return then why do you feel the need?" Lucius asked.

"Why I feel the need is not the matter we are discussing," Marvolo said harshly, before swallowing hard. "The matter we are discussing is...what I should get him."

"My Lord, why do you not just ask him yourself?" Avery asked. "You have already said, he has asked you already."

"I did not provide him with any assistance in purchasing a gift, and I feel that he would return the favor of being equally difficult out of some Gryffindor spite." In fact, Marvolo was almost certain Harry would do so. He would grin in that cheeky, mischievous way, his eyes glittering and smugly withhold any information about what he might want.

"Do...do you have any ideas?" Julien asked, looking remarkably uncomfortable. In fact, all of his followers looked uncomfortable with the topic and Marvolo felt a savage pleasure that he wasn't alone in his misery.

"I had originally intended on moving my plans to kidnap and torture Dolores Umbridge ahead of schedule and present her suffering corpse to then kill at his pleasure."

"My Lord, might I suggest not doing that?" Lucius asked and he looked horrendously amused and disgusted.

"Lucius is correct, My Lord," Julien insisted. "Tortured people are not the typical gift one expects for Christmas."

"And from our encounters with Lord Potter," Avery continued. "I do not believe it is something he would particularly appreciate."

"You are probably correct," Marvolo admitted sourly. He could just imagine the delightful picture of pure fury Harry would be if he did actually gift him with a person. The fury shining in his eyes, face flushed with rage, might actually be worth it, Marvolo thought.

"Perhaps you could purchase him something useful?" Patrick said nervously. "Perhaps in regards to his Inheritance or his Houses. My wife always prefers it when I purchase her gifts of practicality." The idea had merit, Marvolo supposed and there was one thing that Harry had mentioned needing for his Necromancy that as far as Marvolo was aware he had yet to get.

"I don't know if I can be of assistance, My Lord. Narcissa always provides me with a very exacting list of everything she wishes."

"My late wife always preferred pretty things, I'm afraid I don't believe Lord Potter shares that taste," Julien admitted.

"Lord Potter is not my wife," Marvolo snapped coldly. The idea of these men providing him with suggestions they used for their wives was bizarre.

The men before him exchanged glances that Marvolo couldn't decipher. He was about to peer into their minds to better understand when Rabastan spoke. "Lord Potter is rather sentimental, perhaps something along that vein."

Yes, Harry was very sentimental but that meant choosing something from the heart and Marvolo didn't really know how to do that.

"Why would you wish to provide Umbridge specifically, My Lord?" Severus asked, he seemed particularly stuck on this particular fact.

"Because she tortured him," Marvolo seethed, hands clenching tightly together to contain his anger. "She tortured him and mutilated him and I promised him vengeance."

"How did she torture him? I wasn't aware they had any interaction at all," Avery said confused.

"I recall Lord Potter received numerous detentions from the woman but that can hardly be considered torture," Severus ventured hesitantly.

"Blood Quill," Marvolo bit out, standing to pace in front of his desk. "Had him carving into his own hand night after night. Admittedly, I find the concept of such sadistic torture fascinating. It's a technique and concept that I am intrigued to test out myself. But Harry should not have suffered that. She hurt him, she scarred him. Umbridge will suffer."

The men in front of him stared at him with wide eyes and he saw them shake under the intensity of his magic but he didn't bother tampering it. He needed to release his magic on something or someone. Drawing his wand he aimed it at the group of them, not particularly caring who he hit. Someone was screaming but he could hardly hear it through his rage.

Suddenly, an equally Dark Magic was mingling with his own, soothing and calming his racing, enraged, heart. Marvolo looked at the door. Harry was poking his head into the office, eyes darting about and taking in Rodolphus and Avery on the ground.

"Marvolo?" He hissed. "Is everything alright? I felt your magic all the way in my room. What did they do?" Hearing Parseltongue on Harry's tongue always made Marovlo's pulse race. It was soft and sensual in a way he had never thought the snake language to be. For so long he had felt superior at being the only one to speak the language of snakes but it did get boring to only talk to Nagini and other snakes, they weren't the best conversationalists; despite how amusing Nagini's gossip could be.

"Apologies," Marvolo hissed back because he liked these moments of talking to Harry in Parseltongue in front of others. It further demonstrated how superior he and Harry were to everyone. It was also like having a secret language like the children in the orphanage had always talked in with their little playmates. "We were discussing Umbridge. I revealed your suffering to them in my anger. I am sorry."

Harry stiffened, his scarred hand formed a fist before being shoved behind his back. His gaze briefly flickered to Marvolo's followers before returning to stare at Marvolo, his chin held high and defiant. His face was carefully blank. Marvolo hated when Harry's emotions became hidden, his eyes clouded and hard and cold. He understood how important it was for a person to do such things — he himself all but lived behind his own shields and masks — but Marvolo hated the sight of it on Harry. Marvolo only liked the look on Harry when Harry was about to eviscerate someone with his words and wanted to look as pompous as he could. But Harry should never hide his emotions, should never mute that burning fire within him. Marvolo hated that his hasty actions were the instigator of Harry being closed off now.

"Do you wish me to remove that knowledge from their minds?"

Harry was silent, glancing once again at the men in the office before he sighed and dropped the mask. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the scarred hand out from behind his back to look at the scratched writing. Sighing once again, Harry shook his head before bestowing a soft smile on Marvolo. He wished it was just the two of them in the office, he didn't want anyone seeing this expression, this smile, but him. It was a look that Harry was giving him and he wanted to treasure it, he didn't want others to have the privilege of seeing it.

"I appreciate the offer. And while I'm mad you told my secret, and I'm not fully forgiving yet, I get you didn't do so maliciously. However, I trust these men to keep the information to themselves. And if they don't, I trust you to respond accordingly to rectify your actions of telling them in the first place."

Marvolo couldn't help but chuckle lowly at the unspoken permission Harry gave him to torture them. His followers trembled at the sound but Harry laughed lightly in response. Marvolo felt warm at the sound. He didn't understand why, but it happened each time Harry laughed.

"I expect all of you to keep this information regarding Umbridge to yourselves," Harry said to the other men. "If you speak of this, and trust me I will know, Voldemort has my complete permission to act as he deems fit." Harry smiled shark-like at the pale faces of Marvolo's followers and Marvolo wanted to laugh with delight at how wonderfully Harry commanded attention and respect. "Dinner will be ready soon," he added in a quick hiss over his shoulder before slipping back out of the office.

"You are all dismissed. You will not discuss anything mentioned in here with anyone else, is that understood." They all nodded and bowed deeply. "Now, get out." He had dinner and a quiet night in the library to get ready for after all.

That night, Marvolo stood next to Harry in the sanctity of the library and stared at the tree Harry had deemed appropriate. It was not much taller than Marvolo and had full branches encasing it, no bare spots to be seen. It was a very acceptable tree, the quintessentially perfect tree for Christmas.

"So, now what occurs?" Marvolo finally asked. He had never decorated a tree before, had never understood the need for it. It was a frivolous use of time and energy that the children in the orphanage had delighted in and his followers had their house-elves do.

Harry chewed his lower lip as he stared at the tree. "We just decorate it. I mean… well, I suppose it should be easy right? The one in the foyer was pretty simple at least. I mean when the Dursley's always decorated their tree it was with cutesy things or sentimental things Dudley had made as a kid. Last year with Sirius it was a lot of old Pureblood decorations that Sirius had found in the attic and a few of the Weasley's things that they brought over from the Burrow..." Harry trailed off and seemed lost in his memories of last year.

Marvolo swallowed against an uncomfortable thickness in his throat. This time last year he had been obsessed with destroying Harry, manipulating his dreams to reclaim the prophecy, and ruining his entire life. Now...now he was decorating a Christmas tree for just them to enjoy on Christmas morning...

"I have no personal effects to string up on a tree," he admitted.

"Neither do I," Harry agreed quietly. "So we should make some. We'll just transfigure this stuff I got Tobi to bring me into decorations," Harry said, gesturing to another stack of rocks and leaves littering the coffee table. "Whatever kind of decoration that we want. It'll be fun." Harry was smiling now, apparently getting excited over the idea of creating anything to hang on the tree. Marvolo shifted nervously, he had despised arts and crafts at the orphanage. Could never understand the enjoyment others found in it.

"Fun…" Marvolo repeated, keeping his voice even but Harry must have detected some hidden emotion because he now faced Marvolo, staring into his eyes with an understanding and kindness that dug holes into his very being.

"Yeah, I promise. Just think, this will be a way of decorating your home. So there is a purpose to this, it's not a waste of time and energy." The impish smile had Marvolo relaxing and smirking. Harry's audacity was refreshing.

"So long as there is a purpose," he drawled pretentiously and Harry laughed, not as light as earlier in the office but just as full and genuine.

Best of all, Harry laughed because he found Marvolo funny. He didn't laugh at Marvolo out of malice but out of carefree humor; his laughter was inspired by Marvolo, not in spite of him. It was warming and uplifting and Marvolo craved the ability to make Harry laugh more and more each and every time he heard the joyous sound. It was hardly melodic or musically inclined as his books had described beautiful laughter as sounding like, but it was free and open and bright and perfect.

"Let's get started then." Harry drew his wand and transfigured one of the rocks into a glittering ruby red bauble.

Marvolo sneered at the sight. "No, definitely not. I will not taint my eyesight with such a hideous color such as that."

Instead of looking upset, Harry laughed harder and shrugged. "You'll have to look away then," he said and hung the bauble on one of the middle branches. "If you want another color then you'll have to make them yourself." The challenge permeated the words and paired with the sparkling eyes, Marvolo could not turn away. "Besides, I quite like the color red." For whatever reason, Harry blushed at this admission. Marvolo found that strange despite enjoying the sight — as he always did when Harry became particularly flustered — because being a Gryffindor, liking red seemed logical.

Glaring at Harry in response to the challenge, Marvolo transfigured a leaf into a bauble of his own in elegant, shimmering emerald green. Harry grinned broadly. "Well, I quite like the color green," Marvolo replied hotly, unable to look away from the very green that was imprinted into his mind.

A pop broke the intense moment that had built between them and Marvolo glanced away from Harry to look at Mimsy who had brought them their standard post-dinner tea and a radio.

"Thanks, Mimsy," Harry said before the tiny elf disappeared again.

"What is the purpose of the radio?" Marvolo asked with a frown.

"To listen to music," Harry replied absently, fiddling with the dial as a static sound filled the library. Marvolo glared at the asinine response but Harry didn't notice. "We're decorating, we should have music accompanying it."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "It's what always happened on TV and in movies. And Aunt Petunia always had Christmas songs playing when they decorated, Mrs. Weasley too." The low volume sounds of Celestina Warbeck filled the library, blending with the crackling fireplace. Harry flushed red again and ran a hand through his hair; the sight was more distracting than it should be. "Sorry, I just, well...I know it might be a bit much but it's the first time I get to really experience a Christmas of my own making, you know? Last year it was a bit tainted with, you know, fighting you, and Mr. Weasley being injured, and the hell of school... And then Hogwarts was always nice but I didn't really do much for that, just experienced it, and then I was never allowed to do anything at the Dursleys. And well, I'd bet you've never done much for the holidays either. And well, I thought we should make some traditions of our own, for future years."

Marvolo stared at Harry. Future years… Harry wished to spend future holidays with him. Marvolo swallowed against the sudden rush of hope and excitement at the thought. He felt the desperate, possessive need to shout 'mine' as he held Harry tight against him.

The silence seemed to be stretching for too long though and uncertainty clouded Harry's face, the brightness of his eyes dimmed, and he ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. "Stupid, I know, sorry. The fact that you're even allowing a Christmas tree in your home at all is incredible. I didn't mean to push too far."

"No," Marvolo breathed out when Harry went to turn the radio off. Harry jerked his head back up to stare at him, eyes widening. "Sentimentality is expected with the current season, is it not? Music and decorations are... appropriate... I believe, necessary even."

What was he saying? This had been his opening, his opportunity to end this frivolous endeavor. Marvolo had never forsaken the chance to stop something he thought ridiculous. He had denied others far greater things with the same cold efficiency as he did everything. So why could he not deny Harry such a simple, mundane thing? Christmas music was ludicrous and grating after all. Marvolo knew why of course, it was because the sight of Harry looking so uncertain and downtrodden pained him. Besides, maybe it wouldn't be a waste of time. The purpose was to decorate his library. Marvolo had never seen the point of decorating before but there was always a first time; he could allow that concession. And seeing Harry beaming at him and only him...well, that could be another purpose.

"Thank you, Marvolo," Harry said quietly, coming to stand next to him once again, grabbing another stone to transfigure. What Harry was thanking him for was never specified but Marvolo didn't particularly care. "What do you think?" Harry asked with a forced cheer, obviously attempting to lighten the mood once more, holding up his newly transfigured ornament. It was a horrendous rendition of the muggle Santa Claus.

"I believe that you should not seek a career in the arts."

Harry laughed and proudly hung up the hideous decoration. "Bet you can't do better."

Well, Marvolo could hardly let a challenge such as that go unanswered.

The library was warm from the crackling fire, the music on the radio just a few notches above a dull humming and Harry was laughing as he told the story of a snowball fight he and his housemates had experienced a few winters ago. Marvolo exchanged a few of his own pleasant winter memories, such as those atrocious Slug Club Parties he'd attended for propriety's sake.

Peace and contentment were the foreign feelings that Marvolo had come to equate to their nights together in the library. He'd accepted those feelings as only occurring during the nights spent relaxed and talking about seemingly unimportant things, but occurring nonetheless and Marvolo wasn't opposed to the sensations. But that night, Marvolo could admit to another emotion that clouded his head and lightened his chest: happiness. He'd read the stories and accounts of others experiencing being happy but it was unfamiliar and foreign to him, until now. Now, he could understand why so many people were in the pursuit of happiness, why they would wish to devote their entire lives to capturing and holding the elusive feeling.

The stack of rocks and leaves finally depleted, Marvolo and Harry stepped back to survey their decorations. Marvolo's ornaments displayed the carefully crafted, exquisite detail of his transfigurations showcasing the appropriate level of skill that he prided himself in. His ornaments maintained the muted colors of silver, green, black, and blue, each looking appropriately elegant. Harry's demonstrated his pure enjoyment and passion with brightly colored baubles sometimes shaped into snowflakes or snowmen but a few resembled snitches and broomsticks.

Harry laughed at the sight of the tree. "I think it looks amazing," he declared. Marvolo frowned. It was hardly a statement of artistic talent, nor could it be called aesthetically or symmetrically sound. "A good representation of us. Don't you think?"

Yes, Marvolo could see themselves represented quite clearly. Maybe there was a beauty to the haphazardly decorated tree after all.

"Oh, now stockings." Harry turned to pull forth a box from behind his preferred armchair that Marvolo had not noticed before. Their tea had been drained while they decorated and the radio now just played soft static, so with a quick flick of his wand, Marvolo silenced it. He could only barely tolerate the music for Harry's sake, he would not push his limits with needless static.

"Stockings?"

"Yeah. Stockings. It's another Christmas thing."

Harry pulled out said stockings and stuck them on the mantle above the fireplace. Marvolo stared in astonishment as Harry pulled out more than just the two he expected. Each stocking was in a different color and each had a different letter embedded on the cuff: M, H, N, H, T, D, M, K, S, V, and L.

"I am aware of the concept of Christmas stockings. What I am unaware of is why you have so many. Are you expecting more than just us on Christmas morning?" The thought of anyone else joining them left a sour taste in his mouth that he didn't appreciate.

"Oh well, I didn't actually get these. Luna sent them to me the other day because somehow she just knows these things. It's actually what reminded me that Christmas was soon and the manor needed to be decorated."

"How enlightening, this does not answer the question regarding the need for such a vast quantity."

"Oh well, it's for all of us. You and me," Harry said pointing to the M and H, green and red stockings hanging at the very center of the mantle, "then Nagini and Hedwig," he continued pointing to the N and H, black and white stockings on either side of their own stockings. "Then these ones are for Tobi, Dobby, Kreacher, Mimsy, Sora, Vossy, and Lopsy." The idea of getting stockings for Harry's two elves and his five was strange. None of his followers would have even considered the idea, Marvolo had never once entertained the notion of getting such a personal and familial item for his elves. "She asked me a while ago to send me the initials of everyone in the manor. I didn't realize this was what she had intended. But I like it. It's like our family."

Family. Marvolo had never had a family. He'd wished for one as a child in the orphanage but had soon forsaken that childish notion. He had refused to feel envious of others when they left Hogwarts for their own family manors because they were the unlucky ones to be tied down and anchored by such nonsense attachments. He was free to pursue knowledge and magic without any interference. Family was a burden, an anchor he had been free of from the moment he was born. He had entertained the notion of family momentarily during his later years in Hogwarts when he researched his lineage and hunted down his mother's inbred family and killed his muggle father and his grandparents. However, Marvolo had already given up hope of having a family of his own, convinced himself he was better off without one. And yet Harry now claimed they were one. Him, Harry, their familiars, the house-elves...it was more than Marvolo had ever dreamed or anticipated and his heart beat faster in response to the thought.

"The lengths of your compassion…" Marvolo began but trailed off, certain there were no actual words to properly describe Harry's kindness and open-hearted nature. The fact that he so easily and casually rocked Marvolo's entire world by declaring them a family. "I'm sure the elves will all be most appreciative," he said to cover up how much he was still reeling from the statement.

Harry smiled at him, the firelight reflected in his eyes turning them more gold than green, and Marvolo couldn't help but smile back. He had never smiled much before and still didn't, but recently Harry had been able to draw the action out of him and Marvolo found he wasn't opposed to the change. Especially when doing so brought a softness to Harry's eyes that made it difficult for Marvolo to breathe. Possessive man that he was, he took a vicious pleasure knowing that no one else got to see that look, no one else had the honor and privilege of having Harry look at them in such a way.

As was the case every time that Marvolo caught and held Harry's gaze he wished for the chance to use Legilimency. The deprivation of this hard-earned skill always left Marvolo off-footed and yearning to use it more than he ever had. What thoughts tumbled behind those captivating eyes? The intense desire to know Harry's innermost thoughts and secrets burned in Marvolo. It wasn't out of a malicious wish to turn the information around in an attempt for manipulation but to be a step closer to understanding Harry. Marvolo craved the insight that Legilimency would provide him; the answers that would no doubt release him from the plaguing questions that haunted him. Because, if he could understand Harry, then maybe Marvolo could begin to properly understand the feelings Harry inspired within himself.

Marvolo felt very much like a moth drawn to a flame. But like a moth, Marvolo wasn't sure if he could leave the sphere of Harry's warmth. He wondered if moths were aware that the light that drew them was also their doom. Did they knowingly drift towards the burning, enticing, flame willingly; accepting their death for that moment of warmth? Did they consider it a fair trade? Or were they unknowing and unwilling? Was it similar to how Marvolo craved Harry's fiery presence and yet feared getting so equally burned, but still struggled to resist despite it all? If given the choice, would the moth still chase the light or would they choose to remain in the darker shadows if only to live longer?

Yes, Harry Potter would be the death of him. And Marvolo could not honestly say if he could deny Harry of even that.