Harry was standing in the door to his office, a heavy cloak draped around his shoulders. April was slowly starting to shake off the winter but it was still cold in the evenings and the fire in the fireplace was burning merrily.
"Tom, I am going to head over to Ron and Hermione for a little while. Are you going to be alright on your own?" he asked as he pulled on a couple of gloves and fixing the black scarf around his neck.
It was a ridiculous question really. Tom was more than capable of being left home alone. He had spent most of his life alone for Merlin's sake.
Although after his second panic attack that morning when he had come downstairs and caught sight of Harry's red Auror robe on the table down in the entrance hall, Harry probably wanted to make sure there weren't any more triggers laying around that could provoke another attack while he was gone.
"Yes, master," Tom answered with a nod and tried to sound more comfortable with the idea than he was. He ducked his head to avoid having to bear Harry's scrutinizing look and pretended to be looking for the last corner piece. He hoped that Harry wouldn't see the doubt in his eyes. It wasn't quite a lie, but close. Close enough that the bond probably should have reacted but luckily it didn't.
Tom had dragged the last puzzle he apparently had been working on with Granger into Harry's office and put the low table in front of the fire. It was a large 10.000 piece puzzle that showed a seaside with a lighthouse in the sunset. The simple task of completing the picture kept his mind busy enough so that the memories of the incident eight weeks back didn't overwhelm him.
The details of that day were slowly creeping back and he was having a hard time keeping the memories at bay. The nights were the worst but so far he had managed to get through them without waking Harry in the next room. The problem was that he was hardly sleeping. He simply fell into a slight doze only to bolt awake. Too scared to fall into a proper sleep. After three nights of that he was close to exhausted. He could tell Harry, of course, and ask for a dreamless potion but his pride held him back. A pride that was shattered anyhow, but still... He could pretend he still had some.
He could have continued the puzzle in the sitting room, but he had found that he prefered Harry's office these days. Even if Harry wasn't there then the sound of the radio would keep him mostly calm as well as the sounds from the fireplace and the familiar scent of books, fire and parchment. The place also smelled distinctly like Harry and it was perhaps the sole reason he prefered the man's office if he was being frank with himself.
To his surprise he had found several finished jigsaw puzzles framed and hung on the wall in the sitting room when he entered it. He had been puzzled as to why Harry would frame them, but had not found the time to ask.
"Oh, you are continuing the puzzle?" The smile on Harry's face as he noticed made Tom feel warm.
He nodded. "You framed the others, master?"
Harry looked like he was close to blushing as he looked at the wall and shifted slightly on his feet. "Well, yes. I didn't know what to do with them and I was afraid that your alter ego would react badly if I simply destroyed them and put them back in the box and the sitting room needed some paintings."
He coughed. "Anyway. I have instructed Kreacher to come if you call for him and to fetch me if you ask him to. I have also instructed him to come fetch me immediately if anything happens."
Tom assumed anything meant a panic attack. He nodded. It was not like he could object or tell the elf not to follow its master's orders.
A pop announced the arrival of said elf who was carrying a tray with food. "Master Harry said to bring master's slave something to eat." The elf said with a bow before putting the tray down on the floor beside Tom. He looked down and saw bread, cuts of cured meat, cheese and fruits. More than enough to fill his stomach.
With a bow the elf popped away. Harry sighed and dragged a hand over his face. "Sorry. I think he is doing it on purpose. I assume he remembers that you tried to kill him in the cave."
Tom blinked as it hit him. Regulus. He had borrowed his elf to test the defenses of the cave. Apparently the elf had survived but Tom had not recognised it as the same one that was now bound to Harry. "Oh," he said, not sure how to continue. That would explain the hostility towards him.
"Yeah. Except for the verbal insults he can't do anything." Harry assured him with a sigh and rubbed a hand across his face.
He looked at Tom once more as he let his hand fall to his side and Tom ducked his head once more.
"You are sure you will be alright alone, Tom?" There was doubt coloring his voice.
No. "Yes. I know you want to see the baby. I will be fine." The bond didn't react to his surprise; the order to be honest also seemed to have been canceled along with the rest. Interesting.
Hermione had given birth to a girl two days prior and Harry had been beside himself in delight. This was the first opportunity he had to visit and Tom didn't want to deny him because of his own insecurities.
Harry didn't look like he believed him but eventually the desire to see the baby won out and he nodded.
"Okay. Send Kreacher if you need me. And, I know I don't have to specify this, but you are allowed to eat the food." With that he disappeared from the doorway and a little while later Tom could hear the Floo activate.
A blush crept up the side of his neck at Harry's parting words. It really was pathetic that he had fallen so low that he needed to be reminded that he was allowed to eat when he wanted to. He stared at the food. Such a normal thing to do. Eating. People did it all the time without thinking much about it. If one was hungry you simply found some food.
He reached out for a piece of bread, but his hand was shaking too much and he pulled it back.
Damn it. How deep did the conditioning of the warden go? Deep, his mind whispered and he knew it was right.
He had broken people before, really broken them. Beyond what the warden had managed to do in the three and a half years, but he knew, although it hurt to admit, that the warden had broken him. If not the warden alone, then the combination of the warden, Stanley and the last incident at the Ministry surely had done so.
The admission made him shake even more. He stared at the food. Such a simple thing. Such a basic thing. The need to eat. Anger over his own inability to overcome what had happened to him rose like a tide. He got to his feet, suddenly restless.
This had not been a problem before the incident. He had been eating when he wanted to without any concern before everything happened. Harry had never denied him food or water or any other basic need unlike Tom's experience in Azkaban. And thanks to Lucius the memories of the last six months in captivity were almost too fresh.
His thoughts spun around and around, each time bringing with them memories of the past. Of the warden and the humiliating demands Tom had to give into if he wanted food.
It really was strange how much power one human could have over another by just withholding something as simple as food and water. The mind was so trained on staying alive that the mind and body would be willing to do anything to ensure the continued survival.
He shuddered as he remembered how he had knelt and begged when commanded. How he had allowed the warden to rape him in hopes of a few scraps of food. Tom closed his eyes and leaned against the wall in the hallway.
Tom could almost feel the warden's hand ghost over his chin and through his hair. That voice that never turned angry no matter how much or how Tom tried to fight back. The warden had not once lost his patience unlike Stanly who did so often.
He assumed it was because the warden knew he would win out eventually. He knew that Tom didn't have any other options and in the end he would break and bend.
"Kneel."
Voldemort barked a laugh. "Lord Voldemort does not kneel." He was currently standing with his arms crossed and the idiotic man who called himself the warden was standing just inside the cell. The man was tall and broad. The hair was short and a mix of gray and black and his eyes were a light blue color that shone with amusement.
The complete lack of fear made Voldemort a bit uneasy. He had been imprisoned at Azkaban for what he assumed was at least four weeks, give or take. So far the man had demanded that he stood when he entered if he wanted something to eat. A demand that Voldemort had not fought against as he preferred to stay on his feet when someone was in his cell. It seemed things were about to change.
The warden laughed. "Oh, but you are a far cry from Lord Voldemort now aren't you, pet?"
Voldemort sneered at the insulting nickname but didn't comment. There wasn't anything he could do about it at the moment. The leash that went from his collar to the wall made sure he could not approach anyone who entered the cell. His magic was well out of reach thanks to the collar around his neck.
The warden tsk-ed a couple of times and put the tray he had been carrying on the table. "You are just another prisoner here. Nothing more. If I ask you to kneel, you do or you don't eat."
If this had been before Voldemort had absorbed two of his horcruxes then it would not have mattered that the warden was threatening to withhold food. Now, however. Now his body could not function without access to basic human needs such as food and water.
He gritted his teeth. It was vexing that he depended on the blasted man in front of him for both. There was no way he was going to kneel to this man without being forced. He raised his chin and gave the warden the best 'I don't give a damn' look he could muster in his current position.
To his surprise the warden simply smiled. "Oh, yes. I didn't expect you to simply roll over. There would be no fun in that. One last chance, pet. Kneel and I'll leave the tray for you."
The silence stretched on for a couple of minutes. Voldemort glanced at the tray on the table. His stomach the warden sighed. "Well, I did give you a chance." Then he turned and opened the door to the hallway. "Charles."
A man Voldemort had not seen before entered the cell. He was tall and built like an ox. His face was hard and the long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. The gray eyes held nothing but contempt as they stared at Voldemort. This was a man who genuinely hated Voldemort. Perhaps he had killed someone close to the man?
"This is Charles Stanley, pet. I have tasked him with the responsibility of teaching you some manners as it seems they are quite lacking. Charles, why don't you explain what happens to pets that disobey?"
Voldemort felt something turn in his stomach. Something unfamiliar. So far he had simply been left alone in his cell except from the visits from the warden whenever he was given food. He had expected that he would be left alone to serve out his sentence. That the employees of Azkaban would be too terrified of him to go near him. It seemed he had underestimated the warden.
No matter. He could not be broken. If the man wanted to try, then it was his challenge to lose.
The great Lord Voldemort. Tom almost laughed. That felt like another lifetime. It was almost impossible to remember who he had been four years ago. The most powerful wizard of this age, at the height of his power.
He pushed off the wall and wandered into the library. The fire was lit as always. The elf almost made sure the rooms that were mostly used were warm and inviting.
It was dark outside as he stopped in front of the floor to ceiling windows in the middle of the room. Normally he would be able to see the street and the park on the other side. Now, the only thing that reflected back at him was his own reflection.
The black collar around his neck caught his attention. He rarely thought about the collar although he did see it every morning in the mirror in the bathroom. Harry had chosen well. The leather was soft and the lining did not chaw. To be honest he hardly noticed it anymore. He had gotten used to the weight around his neck. The only times he did notice it was whenever someone clipped a leash to it and that was not very often.
It seemed like both Sommerseth and Robards tried to avoid having any appointments or having to leave the office whenever Harry had to leave Tom with one of them when he went out into the field. Tom had sometimes been irritated that Harry couldn't simply leave him alone in the room they used as an office while he was gone. That would have been less humiliating than feeling like a pet that could not be left unsupervised and needed handlers.
After what had happened eight weeks earlier though, Tom was somewhat glad Harry had not done so. Who knew how that could have ended.
He let out a bitter laugh. How far he had fallen.
From a feared and powerful Dark Lord to what?
Now… now, he was just, well he didn't know what he was exactly. Harry's slave? He swallowed. The word got stuck in his throat. He had never identified himself as a slave. Not even when they went out for the collar. Not when Harry had used the bond to force his compliance. Not once during the last four months had he ever stopped and reflected over the consequences.
He had completely ignored the truth of the bond he had forced Harry into. He had been too busy fighting the situation he had put himself in to really stop and think and realize what he had done. He had reflected over what it meant when it came to his behavior in public and at home, but not the legal status he now held.
The truth of his action hit him like a bucket of cold water.
Magical conquest was a slave bond. It stripped Tom of all rights he might have as a wizard and a human being and reduced him to property. Something that could be bought or sold. He could not own anything. Not money or property or even books or clothes. It all belonged to Harry and Tom depended on his good will to even be allowed clothes.
The last incident at the Ministry had brought the fact into light. The Aurors who had attacked him would not be charged with assault. The worst that could happen to them was that Harry sued them for damages to his property.
Panic started to bloom in the pit of his stomach. The feeling was familiar by now. If the old saying of power corrupts came to life down the road then Tom would not have anyone to turn to. Robards had told him he could come to him, but the reality was that Robards could not do anything. Harry would be well within the law even if he abused or tortured Tom. He could rape him, starve him, do all the things the warden and Stanley had done, but unlike them he could not be prosecuted for his actions as they were taken towards a piece of property.
Tom put a hand against the collar, feeling the softness of the leather beneath his fingers. He took a couple of deep breaths, forcing himself to inhale, hold his breath for a couple of seconds before slowly exhaling. The last thing he wanted was for Kreacher to find him and decide to fetch Harry.
Not that he thought Harry would be displeased in anyway if he had to come home due to his slave having yet another panick attack, but it would be humiliating that he could not last even an hour alone without freaking out.
He tried to calm himself by reminding himself that he had been completely out of it for almost eight weeks without Harry having taken advantage in any form. He also had very moral friends, especially the muggleborn, Granger, or was it Granger-Weasley now? He couldn't remember. He assumed they were married.
There was no reason for his fears. He knew Harry found him attractive but that didn't mean he would do something untoward.
His pulse lowered as the panic slowly bled away. Suddenly very tired he slid to the floor and leaned against a nearby couch. His body and mind was exhausted. The lack of sleep did not help. He knew he couldn't continue like he had with barely any sleep. Sooner or later it would backfire.
Another thing that worried him was that at some point Harry would want him to return to work. He wanted to say it would be no problem. That the incident had not affected him, but that would be a lie. The sight of red still made him flinch and his pulse rise.
It was incredibly annoying how his own mind rebelled against him. How he could not control his own responses and actions. How bloody broken he was. He couldn't even bring himself to eat even though Harry had given his permission before leaving.
The memories of all the times the warden had punished him for even looking at the food without permission was too fresh in his mind after the little trip down memory lane.
He could feel his eyes starting to close at their own will and blinked to stay awake. Forcing himself to his feet he returned to Harry's office. The food was still sitting there on the tray. Waiting for him.
Tom glared at it.
"Tom?" The voice made him jerk and he opened his eyes. He must have fallen asleep against the couch behind him. In front of him the half finished puzzle stared back at him, as did the untouched tray of food.
Harry sat down on the couch, close enough that Tom could lean against his leg if he just moved a little to the side. He tried to hide a yawn behind his hand but did not succeed. His stomach growled.
A hand petted through his hair and Tom leaned into the touch before he realized what he was doing. He was starting to get slightly addicted to how good it felt when Harry touched him. How it soothed something in him and made it seem like everything would be alright. The bond purred at the contact. He assumed that the reason the bond appreciated the contact had something to do with its purpose. It would be counter productive for the bond not to encourage behavior that was in accordance with his status.
"You haven't eaten," Harry remarked as he settled on the couch.
Lying was not an option so Tom kept silent as it had not been a question. A small part of him hoped Harry wouldn't press the issue, but at the same time he was very hungry.
Harry leaned forward with a small sigh and picked up the tray from the floor. He placed it on the coffee table and popped a piece of cured meat into his mouth. Without commenting he cut a piece of bread in two, put some cheese and cured ham on it and held it out.
"How is the puzzle coming?" Harry asked as he used his other hand to pick up a piece of cheese and bread and put it in his own mouth.
Tom hesitated before leaning forward and taking the food from Harry's hand. He felt a blush rise up his neck in humiliation at the relief he felt of not having to force himself to try and eat by himself. At the same time he was angry at how much that spoke of how broken he was.
Harry didn't seem to think much of it as he held out more food. Then again, from what Harry had told him, he had been handfeeding Tom for the last seven weeks.
"Slowly, master," Tom answered between the bits. He looked down at the puzzle and suddenly noticed a piece at the edge of the table. He picked it up and slotted it into place making the tree look a bit more like a tree. He turned his head and accepted another bit of food as Harry leaned forward and studied the puzzle as he too chewed on a piece of cheese.
"Mhm, that looks like it belongs there," he said and slotted another piece into place.
Tom nodded as he chewed and pulled a couple of other pieces towards him that looked like they could fit.
Together he and Harry managed to finish a quarter of the puzzle in between bites of food. They mostly worked in silence except from the occasional comment about a piece or another.
The elf came and picked up the tray and Harry rose from the couch. Tom followed him with his eyes as he moved across the room and picked up the tumble of fire whiskey and two glasses.
When he returned he handed Tom a glass and settled back on the couch with the tumbler and the other glass. He twisted so that he was curled on the couch but facing Tom. Tom on the other hand turned sideways so that he was leaning against the couch with his side to face him.
Harry held out the tumble and filled his glass with a generous amount before filling his own glass. "We need to talk a little," Harry said and put the tumbler on the coffee table.
Tom nodded. Yes, he guessed that recent events made it necessary to talk but it didn't mean he was looking forward to it.