11. Concerning Snakes and Puppets

"Harry, while I absolutely adore your shirts, they won't do for the Ministry tomorrow. Do you have something else, or do you want me to try and find you something?" Astoria handed him his cup of tea.

Harry's night had been hellish again and he had isolated himself in his rooms until teatime, not wanting to even try for lunch. No one had knocked on his door or tried to insist that he attend lunch, or even come to ask if he was coming to tea. Only Dobby had shown up, telling him that Mistress Astoria wanted to be sure he was alright and that he remembered to eat.

Harry looked down at the T-shirt in question. It was green with another of Hermione's cartoon drawings. This time it was a snake with a speech bubble above his head. The snake went one way across Harry's chest, then back again and then up his back and down his chest. The first bubble read: I slither here. The next: I slither there. And the last one: I slither everywhere! Because it wasn't Hermione that had to live in a house full of Slytherins. Harry didn't even know if she actually thought he would use it, or if it had been a gag gift to make him smile. It did make him smile, so he used it.

"What? The Ministry? Tomorrow?" He frowned while preparing his tea and took a biscuit.

"Yes, for the inauguration, for the lack of a better word. Tomorrow, the official work between the two factions from the war begins. The start of a new era!" She smiled. "There will be so much to do! Not that the work hasn't started already, of course, but it will be even more now. I look forward to it."

That was right. Tomorrow Harry had been married for a week. A week, and he was still alive and completely unhurt.

"And I'm supposed to be there … why?" He asked slowly, cautiously, after the first sip of tea.

The conversation between Draco and Voldemort quieted.

"I mean, don't you want to? It will be a momentous day! A day to remember, a day for the history books!" It was hard not to smile at her enthusiasm, but Harry couldn't smile when he heard her words.

"Astoria, I don't want to kill your joy, but I have been in the spot-light all my life for something I didn't do. Those history books; I have all the mentions I would ever want in them, in fact, I've got too many already. My entire life has been in the public eye, if it hasn't been the public's property outright. My name and my life have been lauded and dragged through the mud on the public's whims, revered and hated, praised and spat on. Amelia Bones has already made it quite clear what it is to be this time around."

"She was just …"

"Just upset, just prejudiced, just heartbroken from loss; take your pick. She was still willing to condemn me without a single piece of evidence. Same shit, different day."

The room was silent while Harry drank his tea and ate his biscuit.

"There will be some people and some press, which we, as in the coalition between the Ministry and us, control for the time being," Draco said into the silence. "But there won't be a lot of either, and you and our Lord will have an honour guard around you so that no one can get too close to you. Astoria and I will be among them. There will be no Death Eater masks."

Harry looked at him. He could read between the lines. They, or Voldemort, really wanted him at the Ministry tomorrow. Now they tried to assure him that it would be alright. He might survive, along with everyone else, but that didn't mean it would be alright.

"Did Rita Skeeter survive the war?" Harry asked.

"We don't know. But if she did and if she's there, I will deal with it, with her," Draco said. "There won't be an actual free press for some time. It's in the cards, but not while the peace is this fresh."

Harry just nodded.

"Harry, you will be, you already are, one of the most important people in our society. I'm sorry, but there it is," Draco said earnestly. "It is practically essential that you show up to occasions like this. There won't be a lot of them, but there will be some."

There was a white noise in Harry's head, and he felt himself getting to his feet.

He was important for something he didn't do. Die. He didn't die when so many others did. He didn't die when his parents did.

He was important to people he didn't know.

He was important because he was supposed to save the world from a Dark Lord, when he was barely more than a child.

He was important, because in the end he had married that Dark Lord to get a treaty and peace.

He shouldn't, couldn't, be important anymore.

He was done.

He was an obsolete figurehead now. No, even less than that; not a person, a puppet. A puppet that would go where he was told and mouth the right words to the right people.

Consort of the Dark Lord. As if that was someone who could matter in any way! What a fucking joke. How stupid did they think he was, really?

"See you at dinner." Harry thought that it was his voice, and he didn't think he was shouting. The white noise was rushing loudly in his ears.

A while later he stood on his balcony, looking towards the lake. He needed the lack of walls, the air, the pretence of freedom. Freedom from everything. Including expectations that were no more tangible than smoke. No more meaningful than clouds.

A door opened and near silent steps padded across the balcony. Voldemort stopped beside him. Just out of easy reach. Closer than in the past. That didn't bother Harry as much as the fact that he was there at all.

"I'm not truly surprised, though I'm surprised about the blatancy of it," Harry said between his teeth. "I thought Slytherins would be a bit more devious about it all. Or is this your way of telling me what you think of my gryffindorish brain; that I wouldn't even be able to see through something so patently obvious." His head hurt and he couldn't tell if it was from fear or rage.

"I am not entirely certain what you think is going on, Harry." Voldemort's voice was smooth and silken, and Harry almost choked on it.

Damn that voice. Damn it to hell!

Rage it was, then.

"I did not expect to be anything else than your puppet but give me enough respect to either hide it better or be completely open about it, for fucks sake! Because that in there, that was as pathetic as I am!" It came dangerously close to a shout.

"I see," was all Voldemort said, and remained silent.

Harry couldn't stand the silence, couldn't stand having a single wall close to him, even behind him. He turned around and stormed through his rooms, through the hallways and out into the garden. He didn't stop before he reached the beach by the lake, there he stripped down to his underpants and dove in. Cool water closed over him. He swam a few faltering strokes before he found his rhythm and let the movement take him.

When dinner came around Harry was calmer and able to talk without shouting, as well as being able to eat at a table full of Slytherins and old enemies. And his husband.

"I will come tomorrow," Harry told Voldemort while he sat down at the table to Voldemort's right, as usual, but maybe a bit closer than on earlier occasions, "but if I kill anyone, that will be on your head. And don't say I didn't warn you either."

Voldemort smirked at him like he had said something funny. "Thank you, Harry. I can manage that."

"Can't you just," Harry muttered and saw both Draco and Astoria with their mouths open, in addition to Severus Snape and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. The table had never been as full as this, and Harry had been too focused on Voldemort to even notice. There were two empty chairs between Harry and Snape. That was good enough for Harry, and he decided to overlook the additions as much as he possibly could.

"My Lord, you cannot possibly let the Pot …!" Malfoy winced visibly and held his tongue. Harry guessed that he had either been pinched by Narcissa or stepped upon by Astoria, perhaps both, as both witches looked carefully blank faced.

"I cannot possibly … what, Lucius?" Voldemort asked.

Harry swore he could feel, actually feel, Voldemort's voice against his skin. A light, cool and silken touch, barely there, but still … there, nonetheless. It made him shiver and ache in ways he didn't want to contemplate. He recalled that he had responded to that tone of voice from the very beginning, just a week ago, but it was a lot less subtle now. That ache promised pain, if it grew too strong, too sharp, and that shiver … that shiver made him want, now. Want something he couldn't quite name. Just want. More. Now.

Harry swallowed hard, pushed the unwelcome feelings down, and focused on eating, while letting the conversation float over and around him. So far, no punishment had been given because he didn't participate in the conversation or because he didn't pay attention. It felt safe enough to focus on the food, which was very good, yet again.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up at Astoria, suddenly aware that she had said his name twice now.

"Yes?"

"Did you need any help with finding a suitable robe for tomorrow?"

"No, thanks, I think I have something that will do. Maroon and gold, quite formal."

She smiled and her eyes glittered. "I'm sure that will be great. I promise that we will not let anyone run you over in any way; you won't have to kill anyone."

"That would be good, thanks, it kind of destroys my week when I have to do that, you know?"

Astoria giggled and saluted him with her glass. "To new beginnings and a good week?"

Harry shook his head, but raised his glass. "Fine, then. To new beginnings and a good week."

Harry wasn't surprised at all that Draco raised his glass with them, he tended to follow where Astoria led. Voldemort generally looked at Astoria and her antics with benevolence. Harry assumed that she reminded Voldemort a bit of a milder, kinder, less insane and less fawning Bellatrix Lestrange, and Voldemort went along with most of it. So, Harry wasn't too surprised when Voldemort raised his glass too. Of course, it shouldn't surprise him then that the rest of the table did the same. It wouldn't do to not be part of a toast that the Dark Lord joined in on.

After that the dinner was over and the three interlopers, as Harry thought of them, left before anyone else, and Astoria coaxed the rest of them out into the garden and the last of the day's sun. Nagini showed up and insisted that Harry try and hold all of her, but after a longer discussion she had to accept that he couldn't do that, even if he wanted to help keep her warm.

"Astoria, that feeling of calm and safety I noticed with Nagini at the wedding; it's still there," Harry said while petting Nagini.

"I can see that," she chuckled and nipped in her wine. "Then it's doubtful it has anything to do with what you have been eating or drinking. I did refresh my memory on Parselmouth's, but nothing in any of my books mentions anything like what you are describing. And that's just for Nagini? You haven't felt anything like that with any other snake?"

"No, never. I mean, I'm not exactly afraid of snakes, or even cautious enough, when it comes to that. With the only other Parselmouth in Britain right there," Harry nodded at Voldemort, "snakes tend to listen when I talk, and do as I say. I remember thinking that being able to talk to snakes wasn't the same as being able to control them, but the difference is so small, it makes no matter." Harry looked at Voldemort.

"Is that your experience too? That you can control snakes, this one excluded," Harry booped Nagini's nose and she hissed and coiled around him and his chair, as if to hold him there, "without any effort? See what I mean?" Nagini tightened her coil around him and, apparently satisfied with her catch, laid her head on his shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes at her escapades.

Draco looked positively green at the sight and gulped his wine. Astoria looked more green with envy. Harry promised himself to remember to lead Nagini towards Astoria more often, perhaps when Draco wasn't too close.

"Yes, I cannot remember ever having any trouble with controlling any kind of snake, a basilisk included. It is a part of the gift."

"I'm so jealous." Astoria gave a heavy sigh.

Harry believed it best not think about that basilisk. Voldemort may have controlled it and even valued it, but Harry had had to kill it at twelve years of age.

"And the feeling I described with Nagini? Have you ever come across anything similar, with Nagini or any other snake?"

"No, I have not." He hesitated. "Does the situation concern you?"

"I don't like not knowing why or how or how long it will last, and if it only pertains to Nagini, or any other snake, or any other creature. So yes, it does concern me."

"I have my … suspicions, and I believe I am right. It will only ever affect you with Nagini, no other creature of any kind, and it is most likely permanent. Does that help?"

Harry met the red eyes. "You know more."

"I have more suspicions that I believe are correct, yes."

"And you are not going to share."

"No, I am not. Not yet."

"When, then?"

"When it is necessary for you to know."

"Necessary," Harry said weakly.

"Yes."

"That tells me that there is more, possibly much more, or worse, or both."

Voldemort didn't answer. Harry wasn't surprised. He had said he would tell Harry more when it was necessary, and not before. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop the next question.

"Did you do something that made it happen, whatever it is?"

Voldemort hesitated again. "In a way yes, but not in the way I think you imply."

It was all Harry could do, not to demand to know what that was supposed to mean, and if he could stop it, stop fucking with Harry's mind and feelings. He swallowed the words and pushed down the feeling of anger and despair that managed to rise despite Nagini's closeness.

"I'm going to bed, Nagini, I have a book to read. You may come if you wish."

"Nagini will go with the young consort. It's warmer inside." Nagini loosened her coils and slithered down to the flagstones.

"Good night. I will see you tomorrow to lunch." Harry got up and went inside without looking at anybody.

"He said good night," Voldemort translated.

"Thank you. I assumed as much." Astoria's voice was subdued, and Harry wondered if she knew what Voldemort knew; what he refused to explain to Harry.

He pushed away that thought too. It wasn't like he hadn't anticipated some, or even a lot of, hardship, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn't seen it going quite like this.

A/N:

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