21. The Machinations of War and Peace and Marriage
Part I
There were many things Voldemort had never contemplated, even with his new, mentally stable personality. The fact that he might end up enjoying a discussion about magical theory with Harry Potter, was one of them.
Harry's elf, Dobby, popped in, bowed to Harry and even deeper towards Voldemort, and told Harry in that shrill voice that it was teatime. Harry looked at Voldemort, green eyes glinting in the firelight.
"I believe I might just win this discussion, and I'm comfortable right here for now, would you mind having tea with me alone today?"
He said it as if he didn't detest the sight of Voldemort, as if he didn't hate being in the same room as him. It made Voldemort wonder if this might be Harry's stubbornness at work again, with a new objective. Harry knew he could not get away from the soul shard in him, knew he could not leave Voldemort and their marriage and knew that there were no alternatives, so he had decided to hurl himself into the task of accepting the situation.
To himself Voldemort admitted that he was rather fascinated by the fact that Harry would want to be alone with him more than strictly necessary. That he didn't leave as soon as he could, not even with a perfectly good excuse. That he, in fact, had continued their conversation after he let go of Voldemort's hand, instead of just looking away and making it obvious that he had nothing more to say.
"Yes, I am fine just us having tea together," Voldemort said. "But the point of discussions is not necessarily to win it or persuade the other to your way of thinking; much can be said of just simply exchanging opinions and thoughts."
Harry shook his head at him. "You only say that because you are losing, and you know it."
"Am I now?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow at him.
Harry chuckled. It was a low, hoarse sound, because his voice was still gravelly after the last few days, but it held real mirth. At least, Voldemort thought it did.
"Dobby, please tell Astoria and Draco that we won't be joining them for tea, and we would like our tea served here, please."
"At once, Master Harry!" Dobby bowed and popped away.
Harry was so extremely polite towards the small creatures. It was something Draco had warned him about before Harry arrived, and while Voldemort never had gone out of his way to be vicious towards the creatures, at least not after he became stable, he did not see them as anything close to equal to wizards and witches. Nevertheless, in the weeks before the wedding he had practised being more agreeable towards them. He knew very well that there would be more than enough differences between himself and Harry, he didn't need Harry to get angry because Voldemort, or anyone else at the Manor, mistreated the creatures. Not when it was so easy to avoid.
Of course, Astoria had already broken Draco's habit of both violence and rudeness towards their house elves. No one raised their voice, much less their wand or their fist, towards the elves at Malfoy Manor after she became the Mistress. Astoria had tossed several guests out on their ear after they ignored her warning. Some of them had even, technically, been his guests. Astoria had looked him in the eye and told him she could get the elves to put up a tent in the park, if he wished. You got one warning, that was it. Astoria Malfoy was not one to have her orders, or even her wishes, gainsaid. He rather respected her for it.
That was how it had begun with Harry, too. With respect. Voldemort had loathed him when he was insane. The memory of wanting to slaughter the man, and taking his own sweet time doing it, was still vivid. But the actual desire was completely gone. He had realised that he respected the man as an enemy, not long after he became mentally stable. Harry was resourceful, knowledgeable, strong, and powerful. He had survived everything that Voldemort had thrown at him, time and time again. It would have been difficult not to respect him.
Because of that respect Voldemort had decided on the plan to marry Harry, instead of capturing him and keeping him somewhere safe. Not that Voldemort was entirely certain he could have managed to do that, when Harry had evaded both death and capture so many times. Of course, now Voldemort was sane and, he believed, back to his brilliant self, so it might finally have been achievable. Now, when he no longer needed or wanted to capture or kill Harry
Voldemort had never thought to marry, not before he ripped his soul apart and lost his mind, not in the years when he had been insane, and not in the first few weeks after he became stable. He didn't see the need. He was immortal and didn't need heirs, and he didn't need any kind of companion, bar Nagini. But if he should marry, and he had concluded that this was the best alternative all around - even for Harry, he assumed - then it was well that he married someone that he actually could, and did, respect.
So, it had begun with respect, and soon turned to more.
Dobby popped back in with tea and scones and Harry poured for them and handed Voldemort his cup. The discussion about magical theory continued while they had their tea and then it became a discussion on history, both Muggle and magical, and how those two had affected each other. Voldemort himself had seldom had the chance to discuss this topic with anyone else, and it was interesting to hear Harry's opinions about it.
And then, somehow, they were discussing Ancient Runes and warding. Apparently, Harry wasn't great at warding, despite using wards on the regular. Miss Granger was the genius, he claimed. He preferred to mess about with Runes and see what that got him, as he put it. The fact that he was alive after messing about with Runes, was a testimony to how brilliantly he understood and used them, Voldemort thought.
This assessment of himself and his knowledge and power seemed to repeat itself. Miss Granger was the mastermind that knew almost everything about every subject. Harry was just messing about. Never mind the fact that if he hadn't known what he was doing, he would have been dead now, or at the very least seriously injured. Voldemort didn't get the impression that Harry said these things to seem humble, he simply didn't see any of the things he could do as anything worth mentioning. Not compared to Miss Granger.
"And did you only "mess about" with Fiendfyre until you could control it as well as you do now?" Voldemort asked and put down his empty cup.
"Well, yeah. I mean, after I knew I could cast it, control it and end it, that is." Harry waved his hand and the teapot refilled Voldemort's cup. "I had some close calls, but nothing too bad. It's an interesting curse with a lot of potential, when it comes right down to it."
And then there are comments like that one, Voldemort thought wryly while he raised his cup again, eying his spouse out of the corner of his eye.
Respect came first.
Then came curiosity and fascination.
There was so much Voldemort would like to know about his spouse. Things that he never had thought he would actually find interesting about someone else. But then, had he ever met someone, other than Dumbledore, that could claim to come close to his own power? What that old coot had been able to do, while remarkable, wasn't what Voldemort would call interesting.
Harry and his impressive power were much more fascinating. The man had completely lost control over the Fiendfyre curse, and then taken control over it again. And that was astonishing enough before the fact that it had been a non-verbal, wandless, and instinctive curse.
In the privacy of his own mind, Voldemort could admit that he most likely could not do the same. Also, he was now rational enough not to 'mess about' with one of the most volatile curses in existence.
The same could apparently not be said about Harry Potter.
Then there was the shield Harry used around his magical power. If Voldemort hadn't known that Harry was a powerful wizard, he would have assumed that Harry was far below average in power. It was no easy feat to shield and disguise your power that well. And still, when Harry had taken his hand a while ago, Voldemort could feel the real power thrumming inside the other man. Voldemort assumed that Harry either had shielded even better the other times they had touched, or that the situation had made it hard to notice the pulsing of power. There was so much power. It had been used against Voldemort and his plans for so long, and now Harry sat beside him in this quiet library, drinking tea and discussing magic.
All that power. All that knowledge and skill. All that passion and stubbornness. Everything in one man, and Harry was his. His spouse. His partner. His.
In time that would be more than just a couple of signatures on a marriage contract.
Voldemort would make certain of it.
Never before had Voldemort found someone as fascinating. He might have to work and wait for the results he wanted, but he could do that, easily. He was used to working for what he wanted. Harry's own determination and stubbornness worked with him now and not against him, and already Harry had stated some of his greatest challenges with the situation, and thus given Voldemort something to work on.
Harry shouldn't be afraid of being killed anymore, as Voldemort never would kill his own soul, no matter how small the piece. In time and with the evidence time would give, Harry would realise that Voldemort wasn't going to hurt him in any way. Harry would also realise, through conversations like this one, that Voldemort truly was stable and completely capable of intelligent discussions and staying calm and non-threatening for longer periods of time. Only time would prove these things, just as only time would prove that Harry wouldn't lose his free will to the soul shard that was in him.
"Interesting curse with a lot of potential," Voldemort repeated. "Surely, you are not implying that you have improved on the curse?"
Harry eyed him, trying to divulge the meaning that might hide behind the words. Voldemort raised an eyebrow. It had made Harry relax earlier. Voldemort's face had been rigid for so long, it was hard to remember that he could, in fact, have facial expressions, as well as various tones of voice.
Once again, the expression made Harry unwind. Voldemort would have to remember that, even if he so far did not understand why it calmed Harry down.
"I don't know about improved, exactly, but I have fiddled a bit with it, yes. It's big enough to be worth fiddling with."
"So, you are able to adjust existing spells. What about spell forging? It is some of the same theory."
"It is. I have made some spells, yes. Mostly I have just made new versions of charms that I like or find useful, but that I would like a bit different, or better."
"And what would that be? If you do not mind telling me."
No matter how curious he became, if he pushed, Harry would shut up and shut him out. That much had become obvious rather swiftly. He had their whole lives to satiate his curiosity. While curiosity in itself was something he hadn't truly felt for decades, he had little difficulty with holding it in check. Particularly when he knew that it didn't help the situation.
"A better Disillusionment Charm was the first one. I had to invent a better Finite Incantatem too, because the usual one didn't work on the new Disillusionment. That was a funny week. We had to move the tent because I had Disillusioned several big rocks and we kept tripping over them. Hermi was miffed.
"The new Finite works better, all around, than the old one. The drawback is that you need more power to cast it. Not that it takes more power to actually cast, but you have to have more power available anyway. Like a deposit, maybe. So, you might be able to cast the Finite at the beginning of a fight, but not at the end of it. I still don't know why that happened; I have been trying to figure it out for a few years now. Not that it usually is a problem for me anyway, I have enough power to go around.
"Oh, and I made two new shields. Those have been excellent to have. And a ward-eraser. That one does need a lot of power to cast, and it's devastating with no circumspection at all. It lights up the sky and completely and utterly destroys wards, even those which are regularly maintained and stable. I'm only able to cast it once and then I have to tap out. So, if we needed to use it, I had to withdraw afterwards, which was a problem … I'm not good at being left behind." Harry went quiet.
That was more information than Voldemort could have hoped for.
"Did you ever try the ward-eraser?"
Harry met his gaze and held it for a long while before looking away again. He was silent for so long that Voldemort assumed the conversation was brought to an end.
"You tell me," Harry whispered.
Voldemort thought about it, and then an incident pushed itself up in his mind.
"In Diagon Alley, about two and a half years ago now."
No one had been able to figure out how that had happened, how the massive and continuously maintained wards he himself had set up, had been torn down like they were no more solid than a spider's web. He recalled that he had raged for days.
That had been Harry. Harry and his ward-eraser.
"Indeed." Harry's voice was emptier than Voldemort had heard it before, and he stared rigidly into the flames.
Voldemort went over that raid, and the losses it had brought, for both sides. He assumed it would be best not to talk more about that day.
"That is, without a doubt, some impressive spell forging. If you want to try your hand at spell forging now and require anything, be it books or ingredients, please do tell me, or Astoria. I have made some spells myself, but as that happened after I turned sixteen, most of them are rather … useless in time of peace."
"That is what I feel about my creations too."
"I can think of several legal and peaceful applications for the first spells you mentioned. At least for certain people in the peace keeping business."
"Aurors," Harry said without hesitation. "I will consider teaching some of the spells to the Auror's office. I can't believe I actually wanted to be one, at one point. Now, if I ever have to fight again, it will be too soon." He made a sound, a harsh laugh maybe. "And I have already been in one fight, one attack. I don't truly believe there will be any real peace for me, not anytime soon."
"I do apologise for that attack," Voldemort said slowly. Because it partly was his own confidence that had made the attack possible, and Harry, as his spouse, deserved both consideration and the truth, when Voldemort could give it.
It was a work in progress, and probably would be for some time.
Harry turned his head and looked at him. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. He raised the right eyebrow, stretching the scar that went through it, under his eye and further down his cheek. The scar was pale now, but large enough to be very visible.
"I am unaccustomed to being confronted like that and did not anticipate it happening. Neither did any of my lieutenants. Head of DMLE Bones has made it a point to make strategies to make certain it does not happen again. Her strategies are excellent, and even if an attack should happen again, we will be much better prepared."
Harry gave a slight sigh. "In other words, you still want me to go with you to events like that."
"Yes, of course." Why would Harry believe that Voldemort would not want to bring his spouse to functions and events? No, that wasn't it. It was Harry who didn't want to go. Voldemort had known that before the Atrium incident, and after experiencing that incident and watching the fallout, much of it targeting Harry, he truly should not be surprised about Harry's feelings on the matter.
Dobby popped in and bowed to them both. "Dinner be ready soon, Master Harry, Lord Voldemort sir!"
"Right." Harry pushed himself out of the chair. "Thanks, Dobby. I would like a few more words before dinner, if you don't mind, Voldemort?" Harry looked at him over his shoulder.
"I do not mind." Voldemort got up and followed Harry out of the library before walking beside him, but not towards the dining room.
"Where are we going?"
"My rooms," Harry said. "I have to give you something, and the silencing wards I put on the walls are better than anything I can make in a hurry."
Voldemort wasn't so sure about that, but he followed Harry to his rooms and into his bedroom where Harry went to a table by the wall with several small boxes filled with potion vials. He touched one of them, a simple black one, on several places at once and the box snapped open with a rush of magic. Runes glowed silver on the lacquered wood, before they faded. Harry removed one vial and closed the box again.
Harry began a movement, holding the vial out towards Voldemort, before he halted it and brought the hand back towards himself. He looked at the small bottle with a shimmering, silver blue potion inside.
"This is the back-up plan, or at least one possible one," Harry said slowly, looking at the potion.
"In case you have a very bad day," Voldemort said in a low voice.
Harry nodded, then hurriedly held out the vial. Voldemort took it, because it seemed like Harry couldn't quite decide what he really wanted, but if Harry believed that this potion could help him more than any other potion could, then Voldemort wanted that vial.
"It's a potion Hermi unearthed. It's far better than any Calming Draught generally made, and it's made personal for each recipient. It will make me fall asleep for a while, and then I can't help but be calm for the rest of the day. Do not use that unless absolutely necessary, they are a bitch to brew." Harry met his eyes.
"And you only have six, with this one. What side effects does it have?"
"None, because they are tailor made for me."
"Then why only six, if you know that they help you?"
Harry looked away. "Hermi insisted I bring them."
In other words, it hadn't been his choice to take them with him at all, why not … If not … Voldemort nodded.
Draco had told him that Harry had been sure that nothing but pain, humiliation and death had been waiting for him after the marriage ceremony. Why should Harry bring anything to make his situation better, when he more or less expected to be incarcerated, tortured, and killed, without being able to make use of anything he brought with him?
"Do you remember how I was at that breakfast?" Harry suddenly asked.
It was hard to forget that morning, but it was equally hard to remember anything but the Fiendfyre, or the talk by the lake later that day. But yes, he did remember how Harry had seemed distracted, like he heard or saw something that no one else saw, that he flinched several times when the room was quiet, and no one had as much as spoken.
"I believe I do," Voldemort said, evenly.
Harry nodded without looking at him. "If the past is so much in the present that it distracts me, then that's a very bad sign. It usually calms down a bit later in the day, or when I'm properly awake, but still … a bad sign. Distraction, as in a calm conversation to ground me to the here and now, may work. Other than that, leave me alone. If you can't leave me alone because of the soul fragment, then dose me with that potion. Do not, under any circumstance, try to immobilise me without also knocking me out completely."
Harry met his eyes for a moment, the green eyes were huge with dilated pupils, and they stared at him from a pale and drawn face. Harry looked down again and put his slightly shaking hands on his back. His breathing was too fast and shallow.
"My magic doesn't care about an Incarcerous or a body-bind or anything like that. It will only make the situation that much worse. Knock me out or keep away. This is, by the way, me giving you permission to knock me out if it should be necessary. Just make sure that it really is necessary, and do it properly. I can't remember anything else pertinent to the situation right now. Should we go to dinner?" Harry strode past him without waiting for an answer.
Voldemort kept abreast of him, and also out of easy reach, as always, that was for Harry's sake, and not for Voldemort's. Still, he could easily hear Harry's harsh breathing, as if he had been running for a long time.
Astoria and Draco were waiting for them in the parlour next to the dining room. With them was Severus, and Voldemort saw Astoria's gaze go from Harry to Severus and back to Harry with a slight frown. Maybe she hadn't counted on Harry coming to dinner after he missed tea. Draco rose and bowed to Voldemort.
"My Lord, I invited Severus to stay for dinner after we worked on my potion Mastery this afternoon."
Voldemort looked to Harry, but the man was staring into the air and completely ignored the rest of the room. His face was still strained, and he clasped his hands hard behind his back, but his breathing was a bit easier now. Harry claimed that he held a polite but firm grudge against Severus, and had proven it several times by being coldly polite towards the other man. It shouldn't be a problem, and yet … Should he push Harry into an uncomfortable situation, when Harry's whole existence these past weeks had been terrifying and confusing, and would continue to be so for the foreseeable future?
"Of course," Voldemort said in the end, because while he and Harry did live at the Manor, it was in fact Draco and Astoria's home. They should invite whomever they pleased to dine at their own table.
A part of him still wished that it hadn't happened today, because Harry and his psychological equilibrium was still very much unstable. And Voldemort did decidedly not wish to repeat the incident from the night before.
Once was too much as it was.
Astoria led them to the dining table and asked the elves to begin to serve dinner. Draco and Severus talked about potions and brewing the whole first course. Astoria informed Voldemort about how much the Healers and the patients at St. Mungo's didn't want the neutral wards taken down yet. They were all afraid that the animosity would rekindle and that everyone of them would be sitting ducks for whichever side decided to attack them.
"Then let them keep the wards for the time being," Voldemort said. "It hurts no one that the wards are there. Time will show us all that peace will be kept."
"Yes, my Lord," Astoria said. "My Lord, I must also ask for you to decide about the order of importance when it comes to rebuilding the Ancestral Manors that have been destroyed in the war. I did my best in putting together a sensible order, but it was not good enough." She sneered. She highly disliked it when someone other than him questioned her conclusions or orders. "That task may, of course, wait for a while if you wish, my Lord. There is no hurry. Two or three months is more than acceptable."
They truly had managed to annoy her with their blathering. Annoy and quite likely insult her. As if her prowess and capability during the war suddenly meant nothing. As if Voldemort suddenly thought the young witch inconsequential and not worth listening to. They would have to learn better.
Again.
Voldemort almost pitied them. Almost.
Harry raised his head for the first time during dinner.
"You have begun rebuilding?" he asked while the elves whisked away the empty dishes and served the second course.
"Yes, certainly." Astoria smiled at him. "I had it all prepared before your marriage ceremony, and the rebuilding started that evening. We began with the shops and flats in Diagon Alley immediately. It will take time, for while magic can do much, it cannot do everything and not everyone knows the right incantations. And one actually has to know about what makes a stable building, before building one. On top of that, one needs magical power to build with magic."
"That much is obvious. But you are already beginning to look at the Manors? I assume Diagon Alley is soon to be finished then? What about Hogsmeade, Knockturn Alley, Horisont Alley, Element Alley, Mythic Alley and Hogwarts?"
"Oh no, the whole magical shopping district in London, Diagon Alley and all the other Alleys you mentioned, will not be entirely finished for months, I'm afraid, but the work on Hogsmeade has already begun. We hope to begin the work on Hogwarts sometime after Yule, spring at the latest. Parents won't send their children away to school for a while anyway, so we can focus on making sure that everyone has an adequate and safe place to live, and that shops can open and do business again. The order of importance regarding the Manors is just so the owners of said Manors will stop pestering me about it. Britain will not have competent people to use on the Manors in a year, or more. If anyone wants to hire people from abroad, then that is, of course, their right."
Harry nodded. "What about other places, like Barnton, Falmouth, Tinworth, Portree, Cork and Godric's Hollow? Some of those places were hit hard, and Godric's Hollow was eradicated completely."
"Some of the partially wizarding villages no longer hold any magical families," Astoria sighed. "The Muggles will do the rebuilding however they want." She hesitated. "The places that we will rebuild will no longer be shared with Muggles. We cannot afford any kind of suspicion thrown at us. We never had the numbers against the Muggles to begin with, and now … We simply cannot afford it, at all. I do not particularly want to tell people where to live, but we have no choice in the matter. We have to make it obligatory for everyone to live in purely magical places. Or very isolated, of course.
"The magical district in London will be the only exception, and the wards and concealment spells around that place are already being enhanced enormously. The Ministry and St. Mungo's will be moved to suitable places, hopefully within two years' time. A desire for at least one more purely magical village has been mentioned by many. Not everyone wants to live in Scotland or in London, but it's not easy to decide where that other place should be."
Voldemort knew that a lot of people from the opposite side saw this as a terrible loss. They hadn't wanted to separate further from the Muggles, they liked the influence, or at the very least saw no harm in it, or the Muggles themselves. Now, with so very few magicals alive after the devastating war, Voldemort had easily made them see reason. The magical community could not take any chances, on any front, if they wanted to survive. Voldemort's proposal to remove themselves more or less completely from the Muggles hadn't been one of the points of the peace treaty that Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix had fought on.
They had balked on the issue of Muggleborn children being taken from their parents in their infancy, though. Voldemort had been prepared to give in, to make the whole ordeal a bit easier to swallow for them, if the children began in a magical daycare and then in a school for younger magical children. But the risk they all ran by doing it that way, combined with Miss Granger's word about how lost she, a genius in her own right, had felt on first arriving in the magical world, had changed his mind. Leaving magical children in the Muggle world until they were supposed to begin at Hogwarts was ludicrous, and Voldemort ardently believed that it would be safest for magical Britain to completely separate from the Muggles.
"What's the best alternative?" Harry asked Astoria.
"Godric's Hollow, without a doubt. The war destroyed every part of it, so it should be easier to remove it from the Muggles' sight, since no one lives there anymore. It's ideal, really. It's just one problem …"
Harry had frozen with his fork partway to his mouth, now he lowered his fork slowly and watched Astoria like she was a hissing snake that threatened him. Voldemort almost frowned at him. He couldn't see anything in Astoria's words that should garner such a reaction.
"What's the problem?" Harry asked hoarsely.
"No one actually wants to live there. You surely know that Fiendfyre burned the place down completely and people fear that the viciousness of the flames created a new type of poltergeist, or something like that. Others are afraid that the Fiendfyre will reignite if anyone tries to live there. For people that know more about ghosts and magic than the Muggles, magicals are entirely too superstitious."
Harry swallowed hard and put his fork and knife down on his plate. His hands were shaking, and he put them in his lap, under the table.
"Harry? What's wrong?" Astoria asked. "Surely you don't believe any of those ghost stories? And you know enough about Fiendfyre to know that the curse doesn't work like that."
Voldemort knew Harry did, and he also had a growing suspicion while watching Harry's pale face and set jaw.
"I would claim I know more than most about Fiendfyre, by quite a bit," Harry whispered. "In fact, I'm possibly the closest thing we come to an expert on the curse. Hermi claimed no one else would be daft enough to do what I have done with it. If Fiendfyre isn't properly dismissed, no one can miss the signs; it's fire in the form of animals, for fucks sake. And if the curse is properly dismissed, then it has to be cast again to be ignited, no if's or but's about it. And Fiendfyre destroys everything, even souls, so there will not be any ghosts." He swallowed hard.
Astoria nodded slowly and waited a moment to ask:
"Might I quote you on that? As our resident expert on the curse?"
"Certainly, if you think it will help."
"Thank you. Godric's Hollow is the best place to rebuild, but I have to consider that people really might not want to live there anymore. I know I wouldn't want to, and not because of any ghosts or Fiendfyre." Her voice got low, and Harry only nodded while looking down at his plate.
Astoria's face had gone pale now and her eyes glazed. She had lost people she liked at Godric's Hollow, but Voldemort suspected that Harry had lost more. After all, the Light had attacked Godric's Hollow because his own forces had used the place to keep prisoners. It had been taken over by his forces for years by that point.
The attack and following battle that ended in the Fiendfyre burning the place down, had lasted for more than a week, and to this day he did not know how many of their prisoners the Light had gotten out. Until now, he had thought most if not all, but Harry was far too affected for that to be so.
The conversation was hard to pick up again after that. Severus and Draco discussed more potions theory and Voldemort joined them for a bit, but neither Harry nor Astoria joined in on any kind of conversation. They sat on either side of Voldemort and ate silently and automatically. Draco touched Astoria's shoulder at one point, and she looked at him with a sad smile and shook her head, after that, Draco let her in peace.
A/N:
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