3. The Things I do not Know
The ceremony with its contracts and its wows hadn't been too bad. It had been short and to the point. Even the ring he had gotten wasn't too bad, a simple band made of platinum with a small emerald. Voldemort's ring had a ruby, because of course it did. The receiving line that Voldemort had insisted on afterward, on the other hand, had been bad. And long, so bloody long. There had been Ministry official after Death Eater and then reporter after another Ministry official and then … On and on and on.
Voldemort was now something like a blend of Minister of Magic and King of Wizarding Britain, or High Lord, because he did like that lord bit, didn't he? Could he be High Lord when he was the only lord? Maybe he would make new lords of the people that pleased him, or maybe from the Death Eaters from his Inner Circle?
On paper, Harry was his consort, not his equal in consequence or power, but not far off either. Certainly closer than anyone else. In reality, Harry very much doubted it would work like that. But he had managed to get some say in the marriage contract and even something in the treaty. He hadn't dared try for too much, in case that would irritate Voldemort and make his circumstances worse. But he could live with that, so long as he was allowed to live, at least.
Now he had hidden away in a corner. Voldemort was talking to a blend of former Death Eaters, now soon to be Ministry workers, and long-time Ministry workers, some of whom had also been Death Eaters, naturally. If Harry couldn't get his back against a wall, right the fuck now, he would lose what little control he had. Temper and nerves both.
He didn't like rooms full of people, for a very good reason. He didn't like to be in a crowd, for an even better reason. Toss in a blend of loud voices, music to hide the sound of an impending attack and a squeal or a bang or a flash from a camera, and Harry was fit to be tied. He needed a corner and some quiet, and he found it. He even found a chair.
He got a bit of calm, for a few minutes before Draco Malfoy approached. Draco would of course know every nook and cranny where someone might hide away, having grown up at Malfoy Manor. He and Astoria had offered Voldemort a wing of the Manor for as long as he wanted, to hell with the fact that big rooms, generally unknown surroundings and strange, even hated faces, would guarantee that Harry wouldn't be able to relax, even a bit, for a long, long time. On the other hand, what had he expected, really? To be asked for an opinion on the matter? To be listened to if he should offer one?
Ha had lived through worse, a lot worse, he would find way to live with this too.
Draco brought with him two flutes of champagne and handed one to Harry.
Harry shook his head. "Not a good idea right now."
Draco snapped his fingers and a house elf popped in with a tray and Draco tried to give Harry a firewhiskey instead.
Harry shook his head and blinked at the elf that was dressed in a smart black robe, black shined shoes and … a neon green sock and another sock with peacocks on it. On the shoulder of the robe there was embroidered an H and an P in silver. For a moment Harry was certain that he was hallucinating.
"Dobby?" he whispered.
The elf grinned at him, huge eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Mister Harry Potter sir! Dobbys happy seeing you, Mister Harry Potter sir!"
Harry smiled in return, the first smile that day. He couldn't help it. It felt good seeing Dobby there. And very unexpected.
"Right, you two know each other," Draco drawled. "I did wonder what Astoria was on about this time. Should have known she knew what she was doing, she always does."
"I'm really happy to see you too, Dobby, but … aren't you a Free Elf anymore? What happened? And what are you talking about, Draco, what does your wife have to do with this?" Harry looked at Draco.
"Dobby will always be Free Elf, Mister Harry Potter sir!" Dobby squeaked. "Mistress Astoria Malfoy found Dobby and says Harry Potter would live under her roof and that she wanted Harry Potter to have personal elf, Dobby said yes at once, sir, at once! It be pleasure to be Mister Harry Potter's personal elf, sir! It make Dobby so happy, sir!"
"And there you have it," Draco waved a hand, "my lovely wife's machinations in the works. Slytherin to the core, she is."
"But you are still free, you didn't get bound again?" Harry wanted to be absolutely certain.
Dobby vanished his tray and drew himself up in all his tiny height. "Dobby is Free Elf, Mister Harry Potter sir! Mistress Astoria gave Dobby clothes and says: "Dobby, because I'm not truly your Mistress, you do not need to call me so. Simply Astoria will do." She says that to Dobby, Mister Harry Potter sir, but Dobby says to her: "Dobby will be calling yous Mistress Astoria, Mistress Astoria, because yous kind Mistress and yous asked Dobby the Free Elf to serve Mister Harry Potter." Dobby says that to her, Mister Harry Potter sir."
"If that is the case, then I'm really happy to see you, but seriously, Hermione is going to kill me when she learns about this."
Dobby grinned at him, all teeth. "Dobby is Free Elf! Miss Hermione cannot tell Dobby what to do!"
Draco chuckled. "That would be hypocritical of her, wouldn't it?"
Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He didn't even know if he would be allowed to write to Hermione, much less see her again. And that hurt.
Dobby snapped his tray back into his hands and held it up. "Mister Harry Potter sir wants something to drink sir?"
"Just water, Dobby, or a beer, do you have beer?" He looked hopefully at the elf.
He ignored Draco's snort of derision and grabbed the tall glass of dark beer that Dobby gave him, before he disappeared with a wink.
"So, your wife procured an elf on my behalf; when will I get to meet her?"
"She is talking to a friend right now, but I would be happy to introduce you before dinner. We sit at the same table."
Harry drank a bit of his beer and swallowed hard. "And when will you tell me what I don't know?"
Draco hesitated. "That was what the alcohol was for, Potter."
Harry looked up at him and met worried silver eyes.
"It's that bad, is it?"
"At first, I thought it would be good for you to know, but then I realized that if you went into this situation not knowing … then maybe you wouldn't see it as good … and now I worry that you won't like it. Even if it should calm your fear as to whether you will survive or not."
"Just tell me already." Harry's voice was hoarse, his body tensed up more and more, his heart beat so hard it pulsed in his head. His vision was dimming.
"Don't panic or try to run; will you promise me that? I seriously think this is a good thing, Harry, and …"
"I'm panicking right the fuck now, Malfoy! Tell me!" It was a growl.
"The idea of the truce and the marriage didn't come from the Ministry; it came from the Dark Lord. He wanted to marry you. As far as I know, he worked for months to make it happen; to plant the idea in the Ministry and make sure it took. Then he made certain you would be contacted and involved and then there was the process of making the contracts … Why would he do all that if he meant to hurt you or kill you? I don't know if you will be happy, but you will be safe. Do you hear me, Harry? You will at least be safe. Harry?"
Draco had rushed through the words, and they left Harry gasping. Slowly he crumpled and buried his face in his hands. If the idea had originated in the Ministry, then he felt he at least knew the idea and the people behind it and understood how it had come to be.
Now … now it was Voldemort's idea, and Harry had no clue at all as to why he would want to marry Harry bloody Potter, if not, that is, to be able to torture and kill him at his own leisure.
"How can you believe, even for a moment, that that makes it any better!" Harry grit out.
"He must have had a purpose for doing it, correct? If he merely meant to kill you, he could have kept the war going and …"
"And I have evaded him and death countless times by now, if only by sheer dumb luck. Now he has me in his grasp and I can't fight anymore, without breaking the truce. I can't leave, I can't fight; he is the Lord of fucking Britan! Why wouldn't he want to end the war this way? And why would this information give me any hope at all!" It was a hissing shout, but he kept his voice very low.
A hiss in answer made both Harry and Draco jump. They looked around, but it was Harry who first saw her.
"Nagini." Strangely enough, knowing where that hiss had come from, even knowing it was that enormous snake of Voldemort's, calmed down his pounding heart.
She flicked out her tongue and hissed again.
"Masters young consort is angry and …" She tasted the air again. "… desperate, running-for-his-life desperate. Did Astoria's consort upset you, young one?"
Harry hadn't felt young in a very long time. He felt old, haggard, exhausted, starved and used up; not young, but compared to Voldemort, he guessed he was young. And that little fact wasn't even on the list of problems he had with this match.
He looked at Nagini for a while, but she only raised herself to the height of his head and waited.
"No, he did not upset me, what he told me upset me, but that wasn't his fault."
"What did he say that upset you so much, young consort?"
Harry hesitated. "I don't believe that is any of your business, Nagini," he said in the end.
She swayed a bit, as if thinking about it, and then she left without another word.
Draco sighed and shuddered. "Bloody big snake," he muttered.
"Did you know she refers to you as Astoria's consort?"
"No, but I'm not surprised. Astoria likes Nagini, and Nagini likes Astoria. I generally like snakes too, but Nagini is a bit too … big and unpredictable for my tastes, and there is that little trouble with me having seen her consume human's whole, and alive." He shuddered again. "Look, Harry …"
"Let it go, Draco. It's too late anyway. It's not like I thought I would actually survive this war. To have lived past the signing of the peace treaty is something of a miracle. I don't want to think about this anymore."
He refused to think about it.
Refused to think about what plans Voldemort had for him.
Refused to think about all he would probably never be able to do or see or experience.
Refused to think about himself as trapped.
Pain stabbed at his heart. He had been imprisoned a time or three during the war, he had been trapped, but never in a trap as exquisitely made out and baited as this one. And here he had believed that it was he who was the bait, he who was to make sure that Voldemort joined the treaty, when all along it might as well have been the other way around. For all he knew; the peace treaty could have been the bait for him, so he would walk into the trap.
For the fucking Greater Good.
To satiate his hero complex, or something.
The-Boy-Who-Lived-to-Fucking-Regret-it! Yes, that's still me. The-Boy-Who-was-too-Stupid-to-Live. Damn it all to hell! Harry chuckled a hollow laugh and waved a hand when Draco raised a pale eyebrow.
"I noticed Astoria looking this way, would it suit you to meet her now?"
"Yes, please, that would suit me just fine." Better than thinking about this for a second longer.
A/N:
This chapter has been beta read by Lillaladylove. Thank you so much!
Any and all mistakes are still, naturally, mine.
Please review!