10. The Seduction of the Dark Arts

Hours later he sat by the lake, on the sandy beach, in the sun. Looking at the serenely lapping water that glittered under the sun. He was relatively calm again, after running for hours, he didn't know how many. He only knew that Dobby had popped up now and again with water and told him that Astoria wanted him to drink it because it was a really hot summer day. After Harry emptied the glass, Dobby disappeared for a while and Harry kept running.

Now Harry sat there exhausted and carefully drank more water and ate a simple sandwich that Dobby had handed him with a resolute expression. He didn't know if he would be allowed outside on the estate like this on a regular basis, or if the wish to get him out of the Manor for a while overruled the rules that normally would apply for him. But he had decided to make the most of it anyway.

When someone finally did find him, it wasn't Astoria.

Voldemort sat down in the sand a couple of metres from him, legs in a lotus position with his wide, grey robe flowing around him. He didn't say anything. Just sat there in silence.

"So, you are not mentally unstable anymore?" Harry didn't know where those words had come from, but it seemed like a fact.

Probably not something I should have said aloud though. Oh, well.

"I am mostly stable now. And you are most decidedly not." He didn't sound irritated and for some reason it didn't sound like a threat either. Just a fact, like Harry's own words.

"No, I haven't been for a while, and it keeps getting worse. In my defence, no one asked any questions about the state of my mind before putting forth a marriage proposal."

And I thought I would be killed soon anyway.

Harry didn't believe that as strongly as he had before, and he knew that could be dangerous. Hope could always be dangerous. Foolish hope.

"No, no one did ask about that. Is it worst in the mornings? I did not actually believe your statement when you said that you could not guarantee our survival when seeing you for breakfast."

"I figured, but then again I didn't know how to make it any clearer, and you sounded quite decided on the matter. It's worst in the mornings, but it's not entirely … safe … at any time."

Harry and Hermione had figured it was worst in the mornings because the nightmares in his dreams bled over into his waking nightmares. And after a night of fighting with one kind of nightmare, he had less strength to give the fight against his waking nightmares. When he had woken up properly and in his own time, it tended to be a little better.

"And that always transfers into Fiendfyre?" Voldemort's tone wasn't angry or suspicious, if anything he sounded … fascinated. Of course, Voldemort would be fascinated by something, anything, that whispered of power.

"Fuck, no! I wouldn't have survived this long if it did." Harry hesitated. "Astoria and Draco, are they okay?"

"They are. They are upset, but unhurt. Harry, I will do my utmost to believe you from now on, when you inform me of anything that pertains to you, your life and your preferences. If you feel I do not listen closely enough, please do remind me of this day and I will try to listen better."

"… Alright, if that is what you wish …"

"That is my wish. It seems pertinent, given the circumstances."

They sat in silence.

"Do you want to know the truly dangerous part about what happened this morning?" Harry wanted to see what Voldemort would make of it.

"I do not know. Do I want to know?" Voldemort asked.

Harry looked at him and raised a brow.

"You conjured Fiendfyre nonverbally and without wand, lost control of it and then took back that control without collapsing or even much of a struggle. That alone is … highly unexpected … as there are no accounts of getting control of that curse if it has been let loose."

"You are the Dark Lord, are you not? I'm sure you can take a bit more danger."

"If you say so." Voldemort sounded doubtful.

Startlingly, Harry chuckled. "It, the curse, wasn't nonverbal."

"You did not say a word audibly, I watched you, and Astoria did not hear you cast the curse either."

"No, I mean … I didn't actually cast the curse. It was instinctive."

A beat of silence.

"You instinctively cast, with wish and need alone, one of the hardest and most dangerous curses there is? Is that what you are telling me?"

"Yes, that is what I'm telling you. Which makes it even more dangerous."

"Indeed, it does."

Harry could have sworn the Dark Lord Voldemort sounded a bit stunned.

"If I may ask … How did you become so familiar with such a Dark curse that you can cast it instinctively, not to mention get control over it again? My sources have assured me that you never stopped fighting for the Light and that you did in fact not fight for me in secret at any point. But with such Dark curses and such power at your disposal …"

"You have to wonder if I'm actually Light at all?" Harry asked, not the least bit offended. He knew how it seemed. He had regularly taken a few steps back and looked at his situation and his actions himself, and knew what others saw and the conclusions they might draw.

"Yes," Voldemort drew out the word.

"I'm not sure anymore, magic-wise, that is. Looking back, I don't regret any of the choices I made. I did the best I could in the situation I was in, with the knowledge I then had. I can't regret that. But the Dark Arts … they truly are seductive … and even knowingly making a choice … You don't necessarily get what you thought you would get, you know?"

"I know very well." If anyone knew, it was probably Voldemort. Ripping his soul to pieces as a teenager must have given some consequences he couldn't have anticipated, genius or not. And that had been at the very beginning of his study in Dark Arts.

"And still, you do not regret it?" Voldemort asked, slowly.

"No, my knowledge of the Dark Arts saved Hermione's life many times over, and I would make any choice and take any action to assure that outcome, again and again, to the end of time and beyond." Harry leaned back on his elbows in the sand, tilted his face up and closed his eyes against the sun.

"You love Miss Granger that much?"

Harry did listen for it, but there was no sneer of disgust or hatred in his voice when he asked, no extra emphasis on the word 'love' to make it clear what he thought of the concept. If his voice was anything but neutral, it was inquisitive.

"As a battle partner, as the best friend I could ask for, as a confidant that knows me inside and out and has known me most of my life; yeah, I love her, unconditionally and forever. As anything more, anything even remotely romantic, no, I don't. I would fight for her, kill for her and die for her, without hesitation or regret, but it's platonic, well mostly platonic."

If the facts of his close friendship with Hermione weren't already known to Voldemort, then it would be easy for him to find out everything he wanted from others. They were a well-known pair, after all. It didn't make a difference if Harry said something about it or not, and he felt he should be allowed to recognize something that held value in his life, even if he never saw Hermione again.

"And how did your venture into the Dark Arts begin?" There was a hint of silk in Voldemort's voice now and Harry fought to keep the shivers in check while cursing them, cursing that Voldemort could get him to shiver like that. He would not show Voldemort what he thought, what he felt, about that voice. That would be phenomenally stupid.

In a moment of self-disgust and weakness, Harry contemplated listing all the horrible things Voldemort had done. All the gruesome curses Harry had seen and heard Voldemort cast using the voice that now made Harry shiver with something that most decidedly wasn't fear or disgust. But Harry was stuck here, stuck with this man, without any way out. It wouldn't be healthy to nurture hate and revulsion. If anything, Harry should suppress those feelings as much as he could.

Forgiving was impossible; it couldn't be done. But forgetting might be the best choice for Harry, the healthiest, if it was at all feasible. If the situation, this new life of his, didn't bring about more reasons for hate and fear. So far, it actually seemed like it could be done. Voldemort seemed stable and not like he would put Harry under the Cruciatus Curse at any moment and for any reason, like he had been wont to do. To forget would have to be a choice that Harry made, probably again and again. To try and get around all the horrible memories, the fear and the hate, and build something in spite of it. Build a life for himself. Some kind of life.

Foolish, foolish hope.

Harry really didn't know if he could do it. If it were possible or if the memories of pain and loss and rage and madness were too strong to suppress, too strong to fight. But right now seemed like an opportunity to try it, to try and simply … have a conversation, on his own terms.

He had hesitated long enough, so he gave a slow sigh and decided to try.

"Well, it all started with a birthday present …"

"What?" Voldemort sounded baffled.

Harry smiled up at the sun. That was an encouraging beginning. Bafflement, not irritation. An honest feeling too, it sounded like. He let himself glide back even more, lay down and cradled his head in his folded hands behind his head. The sand was warm and dry beneath him, the sun beat hot down on him, the lake lapped against the shore in mellow waves and he, Harry Potter, had baffled the Dark Lord Voldemort, his husband.

Things could be worse. It was important to take the pleasure he could get, when he could get it, and he was going to enjoy this moment.

"I didn't know what to give Hermione that she would value …"

"So, you gave her a book on the Dark Arts?" Voldemort tried to sound decisive and somehow failed.

Harry grinned. "No, I didn't. Let me tell this story, will you?"

Silence. No hissing madness. No threats. No Cruciatus Curse. Simply silence.

Harry felt himself relax a bit more down into the sand.

"Right. I wanted to give Hermione something special, something that would mean something to her, preferably something to make her smile. The war had already lasted several years, and we had been on the run as long. There hadn't been a whole lot of reasons to smile recently. A useful and special gift would be best. I decided that we could raze Azkaban together, as her birthday gift."

"That was you!" Voldemort snarled. "You two?! I never figured out what actually happened! Why? Why would you do such a thing?!"

Harry opened one eye and eyed Voldemort. Weirdly enough, he wasn't really worried. He probably should have been. Voldemort stared at him, but still had a whole face and his eyes, while angry, didn't seem particularly insane or murderous. Harry closed his eye and turned his face towards the sun again.

"Are you quite finished?" He didn't know what had gotten into him. One thing was to tell the story on his terms and see if Voldemort was able to keep his façade in place, but to talk to him like that … It was impudent, bordering on insane.

Suddenly, like a small lightning bolt of understanding, Harry said in Parseltongue: "Nagini, stop hiding and come over here, please."

Harry hadn't seen her since the wedding celebration, but when he thought about it, this strangely calm and safe feeling reminded him of the hours he had spent with her close by.

"Young consort?" Nagini hissed and slithered up to him before she curled up, half against him and half on top off him, without as much as 'by your leave'.

Harry freed a hand from beneath his head and caressed her. "You shouldn't spy, Nagini. It's easier to give you pets if I know you are here."

"That is true, young consort. Nagini will remember that. Nagini likes pets."

"I noticed." Harry said warmly and turned his face towards Voldemort again. The feeling of utter safety and calm was even more settled with Nagini on top of him and it was as incomprehensible as it previously had been. He shouldn't feel safe with the monstrous snake on top of him. He shouldn't feel like he was protected from everything and anything, including her Master. He shouldn't feel completely calm.

He really, really shouldn't.

But he did.

And Voldemort was looking at him with an unreadable face from behind half-lowered eyelids.

"I'm sure she will choose you over me if you tell her you want her attention," Harry told him.

A feeling shot over Voldemort's face and burned in his eyes before he slammed down even stronger shields than before. It didn't trouble Harry, he didn't think much could worry him right now, and that in itself was a worry. But it was a concern for another time, he was too exhausted and too comfortable right now. Nagini lifted her head, tasted the air and lay down again, apparently uninterested in moving.

"That is not necessary, if you are both comfortable," Voldemort hissed.

"I believe we are. Do you want to hear the rest of it? I can't guarantee that you won't get angry again."

"I would like to hear the rest of it, and if I get angry, that has no bearing on you."

Harry believed him. Not only because he already had gotten angry once and Harry was alive and untouched, but also because the words had that ring of truth to them. That sound that he had heard from Voldemort before. It could also be that the calm that came with Nagini stopped him from fretting about it. That again really should trouble him, and again, he didn't have enough energy to bother about it.

"Right. It all started in our third year in Hogwarts, the year when the Dementors invaded the school. Neither Hermione or I had seen Dementors before then, and I, for my part, knew nothing about them. Hermione was aghast about the existence of such creatures. Creatures that could kill souls, not only bodies. I think knowing that such a thing was possible hurt her, in some way. It was only years later that I saw it the same way, even though I never liked the creatures, at all.

"Even if I read everything I could about Dementors, I couldn't find a way that would kill them, end their existence for good, until I read about Fiendfyre that could destroy everything. It was my best bet and because it was for a good cause, the way I saw it, I didn't hesitate too long before trying it out. It took me some weeks and then I managed to both conjure, control and end the curse and the flames."

"Weeks?" Voldemort asked. "Most people use months, if not years, to fully control that curse."

"Yes, well … With little else to do but practice and a lot of hate to fuel the flames … Also …" Harry stopped.

"Also?" Voldemort said.

"Something for another time, maybe." He waited a moment for a protest, but Voldemort remained silent. "By then I had noticed the effects the use of a Dark curse had on me. I might have been unobservant at times, but not even I could ignore something like that. The feeling of power and the burning need for more and knowing how I could get it, too. That kind of … obsession is not healthy when on the run in the middle of a war, if ever.

"I hesitated before telling Hermione about my plan and about the Fiendfyre, but I did tell her. I offered to be the one to actually cast the curse, so she could keep a clearer head in case I got … side-tracked. She said no, we were in it together and besides, wasn't this supposed to be her birthday gift?" Harry smiled at the memory. "Stubborn witch."

"That stubbornness stood her in good stead with both learning and controlling the curse. We became quite … proficient … with casting it the following months. And for some time, even after we laid waste to Azkaban, we used the curse in battle. Then came the night, the battle, we agreed that Fiendfyre was a horrible, horrible, way to die and that we would stop using it on people, unless we had no other choice. We kept to that agreement, mostly, but never really stopped casting the curse. Both because it feels … exhilarating, and because it … sometimes …" Harry stopped and petted Nagini in silence for a while.

"Anyway, that was the beginning, and very far from the end. I have an extensive repertoire of spells, jinxes, charms, hexes and curses, and after that incident I stopped considering if what I wanted to learn was Dark or Light, and only considered how I would use it. As I said, my knowledge of the Dark Arts has saved Hermione's life many times, the same way her knowledge has saved me. Last time we talked about it, neither of us regretted the choice we made when we began studying the Dark Arts, nor the choice we made when we continued. Maybe that's a result of learning the Dark Arts; not wanting to regret the knowledge and the power? I wish I didn't risk burning people alive by accident, but … well … I can't have it all my way, I guess."

The Dark Lord Voldemort snorted at that, actually snorted.

Harry grinned at the sun and stroked Nagini. He was still alive and whole. Maybe he was a fool to hope for a life, but it was even harder not to hope now than it had been an hour ago. That might be a strategy on Voldemort's part, it probably was, but it was hard to live without hope. So very hard to refuse hope with all his might. It had a tendency to sneak in when he wasn't watching. It was probably better to just admit that he had a tiny kernel of hope now, so it didn't suddenly surprise him.

"You began your education in the Dark Arts with Fiendfyre, one of the hardest and most complex curses there is, and became so adept at it that you now can cast the curse intuitively, without word or even a wand. Something tells me that there is more to the story. Maybe both before and after you learned that curse."

"You might very well be right." Harry waited for the demand to tell Voldemort everything, but didn't manage to worry. Nagini was heavy on top off him and the sun beat down and filled him with warmth.

Silence filled the air between them. Birds tweeted in some trees not far away, something splashed in the lake, the wind rustled in the tree branches and Nagini came with a small, satisfied hiss and moved to headbutt Harry's chin.

And Voldemort did not demand that Harry tell him everything.

"I believe it would be best not to risk you burning people by accident, if we can help it. Would it be better to share lunch together?"

"Won't that interrupt your day, whatever you are doing, wherever you are doing it?"

"Right now, I work mostly out of my main study at the Manor, with some visits to the Ministry, but even if I in time end up working from the Ministry; we have this glorious thing called magic, you might have heard mention of it? It makes transportation so easy, either through the Floo network or this thing called Apparition."

"Ha ha ha," Harry said, a spark of … something going off in his chest. "You are so very droll."

"Thank you, kind of you to notice. Do you believe lunch would work for you?"

"It has a better chance of working than breakfast, at the very least. And dinner?"

"Yes, that would be good."

"What about this …" Harry stopped, he might worry worryingly little right now, but he still didn't feel like saying something that came too close to a demand.

"Yes?"

Harry swallowed and rested his hand on one of Nagini's big coils. Her skin was warm and smooth. Somehow safe.

"I was simply going to suggest that if I think that lunch might … give me problems, I could share tea and dinner with you that day instead?"

"That sounds like a decent alternative. You are of course always welcome to share a meal with me and whoever I dine with, but I wanted to have the assurance that I will see you at least twice a day. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at twelve, tea at half past four and dinner at eight."

"Alright, I will do my best."

"I hope you have noticed that the house elves are happy to serve you whatever you want, whenever you want it?"

"Yes, I have noticed, thank you." Harry hesitated. "I do not think I will come to dinner tonight; I feel too … raw to chance it. What was with the fucking Death Eater mask in the Manor anyway?"

Nagini hissed and tried to curl up under his chin while also slithering beneath his neck.

"No, shoulders, not neck, Nagini! You are not allowed to choke me." When Nagini didn't move fast enough, Harry turned around to his stomach, tipping her partly off him. She hissed in agitation, and he lifted her up to his face, glaring at her, nose to nose. "You are very welcome to share my space and my warmth, but you may not wind yourself around or put any kind of pressure on my neck or throat. Do you understand?"

She blinked at him, didn't answer and looked away. He could have sworn she looked embarrassed, if a snake could be embarrassed.

Harry put her down, turned around to sit facing the lake again and hauled some of Nagini's coils onto his lap again.

"Behave." Harry turned towards Voldemort again. "Where was … Yes, the masks? Or Malfoy's mask, at least."

Voldemort had that unreadable face and those half-lowered eyelids again, like the last time Harry had talked to Nagini. Harry swallowed, uncertain what that look meant and if he had offended without knowing, or maybe it was the question that he asked rather abruptly?

"You would tell me if you do not wish me to talk with your familiar, right?" he said slowly.

"Yes, I would," Voldemort hissed, in Parseltongue, and then remained silent.

"Alright, is the conversation over?" Harry asked after a couple of minutes.

Voldemort blinked at him and looked away. "No, it is not. You asked a question. Lucius made a mistake, yet again, when he didn't stop to remove his mask. The news he had were hardly critical enough to warrant such haste. The merging of the Ministry with my forces will take place a week after our marriage, until that time, Death Eaters do still exist. After that merging, they are simply my closest … supporters."

"Or so the official statement will go."

"Indeed, it will. I doubt my followers will become former followers with no more than the flick of a quill. That will be their doing as much as mine. I told Lucius in no uncertain terms that his almost constant transgressions against you these past days are beginning to irritate me. Death Eater masks will not be worn inside the Manor anymore."

Translation, Harry thought, Lucius was put under the Cruciatus Curse until Voldemort believed he got a clue.

Harry shuddered slightly, but Malfoy Senior seemed to have some trouble keeping away from Harry, and this last mistake could have cost many people their lives. If he kept away from Harry, it would be beneficial for everyone, including himself.

Voldemort got to his feet gracefully. "Do remember to eat something more today," he said. "In fact … Dobby!" The little elf popped up and bowed to Voldemort, wringing his small hands.

"Dobby answers Lord Voldemort sir!"

"Do make sure Harry eats more today. I do not care what, as long as he eats more than a sandwich the whole day." Voldemort eyed Harry and Harry's raised brows. "You ran for hours. You need food. Do not make it hard on him." Voldemort nodded towards Dobby, met Harry's eyes for a moment and turned around and left.

Harry remained on the beach with Nagini, watching the waves on the lake and the wind in the trees. Voldemort hadn't told him to get back inside, and it was restful right here, right now. He accepted another sandwich from Dobby, ate it and had a cup of lukewarm coffee, before going back to the Manor.

After a shower and getting into fresh clothes he sat down on the divan on the balcony with his face towards the sun and the book on unstable magical cores as a result of sickness that Dobby got from the library, on his lap. The little elf either understood that Harry's throat hurt, or someone had told him their suspicions, for both sandwiches had been soft with only soft fillings and when Dobby showed up with more food it was a mild, tepid soup and fresh, soft dinner rolls. Harry asked for a second helping, it didn't hurt too much to swallow, and it tasted delicious.

The sun was almost setting and Nagini was grumbling about it becoming cold and trying to cover Harry's legs with her coils to keep warm, when a door on the farthest side of the balcony went up and Voldemort came out onto the balcony. Apparently, they shared the big balcony. He stood looking towards the sunset for a while before closing in on Harry.

"What are you reading?" he asked after he had stopped several steps away, leaning his back against the marble balustrade.

Harry held up the book and Voldemort read the title.

"Is it interesting?"

"No, not really, I'm just searching through it."

"Do you find what you are looking for?"

"I had hoped to find some indication to where I might find better information for my research, but so far no luck."

"Prim!" A house elf popped up and bowed.

"Lord Voldemort sir!" she squeaked.

"The bookcase in my private study, to the left of the window, top shelf. The four books to the far right. Get them for me."

Prim popped away and back in seconds, bowing and proffering the four books to Voldemort.

"Give them to Harry."

The little elf held the heavy books out to Harry, and he took them and read the titles. Two of them he had already read. They had been disappointing, too general and too narrow, respectively. But the other two … He couldn't stop the smile on his face if he tried. Finally.

"These two looks promising." Harry met Voldemort's gaze. "Thank you."

"That is the best I can do, without knowing exactly what you are looking for."

Harry only smiled, let Prim take the two books that weren't interesting back and put away the book he had found himself. Then he began reading the one of Voldemort's books with the most promising title. Voldemort had tried to get Harry to tell him what he was after, but he hadn't insisted or threatened, so Harry didn't feel like he had to say anything.

Voldemort watched him in silence for several minutes and then went inside before the sun went completely below the horizon, taking with him a cold and grumpy snake.

A/N:

The last chapter was so short and I'm sufficiently well ahead with the story, so I posted the next chapter a bit early.

Hope you liked it! If you did, or if you didn't, please review!

Thank you for beta reading, Ladylillalove!