A/N:

It's getting close! Guess what's getting close!
As the sensible and responsible adults they are, of course Harry and Voldemort must have The Talk before anything happens.
Hope you enjoy!

28. The Talk

Harry should have known that nothing short of death, and maybe not even that, would stop Hermione from being the first to wish him a happy birthday. She had been the first, and sometimes the only one, to do so for years. They had made a game of it, making sure that that one day was a good one for their closest friend.

Hermione's otter Patronus flowed into his room and stopped in front of him while he was reading in bed, and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. Tears burned in his eyes while he stared at the shimmering creature.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Hermione sounded a bit chocked and slightly hoarse, but nothing like the last time he had heard her voice. It seemed like her voice really had healed, at last. "I wish you all the best! Always! Next year, I will get to tell you this in person. Just you wait and see if I don't! I miss you with every fibre of my being, Harry, I didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much!" A small sob. "Miss you. Love you. Remember to live!"

Harry stared at the otter while it faded into glowing mist and then dispersed completely. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Miss you, love you, so much!" he whispered and for a wild moment he considered sending a Patronus back to her, but he didn't know if hers already had set off some alarm or not. And if it hadn't, he didn't know what would happen if he sent a Patronus out. He cast a Tempus charm and saw that it was now five minutes past midnight, the last day of July. The pain in his chest drove away any thought of sleep, so he dressed and went outside on the balcony.

The cool air helped calm him and even if his longing for Hermione was a bleeding wound in the middle of his chest, it had been wonderful to hear her voice and know that she was alive. He didn't know what to think about her promise that she would tell him happy birthday in person next year, but he knew he would wait, and hope, and if he saw any opportunity to help make it happen, he would take it, if it would be safe for Hermione to do so.

Harry didn't sleep well that night, even with Draco's sleeping potion, and he roused late. Dobby served him a full breakfast on the balcony, in the bright and warm sunlight. With Harry's copy of The Prophet, edited to Harry's preference, there were also several cards and scrolls. Harry opened the first one with trepidation, unsure what was going on.

It was a birthday card from Astoria and Draco, written in beautiful calligraphy and golden ink. After the normal wishes for a good day, Astoria wrote that she had been in contact with Healer Brentwood and had confirmed that if Harry ate a bit more cake and sweets than usual this day, it wouldn't ruin his diet, if it was only this one day. She also mentioned that the house elves were ready and happy to make whatever he wished, not only a cake or two, but also for dinner. She hoped he would pick tonight's menu.

The next card was from Voldemort, silver on black, simply wishing him a happy birthday. Then there was a card from Narcissa Malfoy and one from Susan Bones, with two drawings made by her two oldest children sent all the way from Canada, and an explanation from Susan that they simply insisted on sending their drawings to Harry.

A lot, even most, of the rest of the cards were unsigned. Dobby told him the cards had come with owls the whole morning. Three of those cards had held nasty surprises or threats and had been taken out of the pile, but the rest were what seemed to be genuine congratulations on his birthday. Harry believed he was able to identify a few of the senders from their writing, even if they hadn't signed the card. He guessed they weren't willing to come right out and admit they were alive, if someone read Harry's post and noted things like that. They would have come out of the woodwork if they wanted a pardon, but maybe they weren't ready yet. Not even two whole months had passed since the truce was signed, after all.

Harry chose to spend the day alone outside by the lake in the sun, instead of joining Astoria in her study and in her meetings, like he had begun to do, at least part of the day. No one that counted had complained of this, and it was a way for Harry to feel less disconnected from people in general, and the society he was a part of. This way, he also got to know what was happening out there and what the plans were. It also helped that keeping abreast of plans and situations gave him something to talk about at tea and dinner, and helped him feel less lost in the conversations the rest of them were having.

Tea was served with orange scones, Harry's new favourite, as well as a treacle tart and a chocolate and strawberry cake.

"Mmm," Astoria licked her lips and eyed the chocolate and strawberry cake she just had eaten a big piece of, "what is this? It's delicious. The elves have never made it before."

"I gave Dobby the recipe, and he made it to perfection," Harry said while trying to hide the sorrow in his heart. It was Hermione's favourite cake, and it was their tradition that on their birthdays they had two cakes, and they chose one each. On one occasion they had literally broken into a Muggle home to use the kitchen to be sure that they could make the cakes. It had taken Harry four years to find a cake that Hermione deemed good enough to be her favourite. She still didn't eat a lot of sweets and cakes, so the cake had to be spectacular.

"Time for presents," Astoria said cheerfully when they had eaten their fill of the cakes. She called for Prim and the elf left a small pile of presents on the table by Harry. A bit confused, Harry looked from one to the other before opening the first present. It was from Voldemort, and it was a book, a very old book about rituals and rites long forgotten in magical Britain. The English was extremely old-fashioned, but not as bad as other books Harry had gotten through during the war.

"The Magical Legacy ritual is in that book," Voldemort said when Harry looked at him, "among numerous other rituals lost in time, and to censorship. I would much appreciate your opinion on several of them, if you are interested in sharing."

"Thank you." Harry took his words to mean that Harry didn't have to read the book, nor did he have to share his opinions, if he didn't want to. A gift without any strings attached. Given the age of the book, it was most likely a priceless gift, too.

The gift from Astoria and Draco was a broom. An old Nimbus 2001, polished and upgraded to perfection. It was gleaming and almost quivering with power in Harry's hands. When Harry looked up with a surprised smile on his face, Draco tossed something small at him and on reflex Harry's magic caught it and sent it up in the air to hover above the table in a double strength bubble shield. Harry felt himself flush when he realised what he had done and that what hovered there so innocently was a small present wrapped in red and gold.

"Draco!" Astoria hissed.

Draco winced and was just as flushed as Harry was. "Sorry, Harry, I shouldn't have done that."

"No harm done." Harry caught the present when he released the shields, and opened it. It was a small, black box, and in the box was a golden Snitch. It clearly had some scratches on it, but just as clearly it had been polished to within an inch of its life and the magic in it was renewed and strong. Harry had no doubt it would work flawlessly.

"You really couldn't get one without the other," Draco said, then he hesitated a bit. "It's …" He stopped. "Right now, getting my hands on anything new is nigh on impossible. If I could have, I would have. I contemplated sending an order overseas, but in the end, I figured it would be better to pay someone to remodel the broom and Snitch and help someone that needs the money and …"

"Draco, seriously, don't you know how I grew up?" Harry stopped him. "At one point my family gave me a pair of used socks and a coat hanger for my birthday, and that was among their more generous gifts. I was eleven before I ever got a birthday cake. I would never, ever, complain over the fact that something I get is second-hand when it's obvious it's chosen with care, as these gifts are."

At one point in time Harry would have felt embarrassed that anyone knew about these things, and he would never have admitted to it himself. But after years of Hermione hammering into him that he grew up in a horribly abusive home and that it wasn't his fault in the least, he didn't mind anyone knowing anymore. It wasn't his fault, and if anyone thought any less of him for having endured it, then that wasn't his problem. They could fuck right off.

Both Draco and Astoria had gone pale, and Astoria's ice blue eyes grew watery.

"I did not know this," Voldemort said. "And I believe that neither Astoria nor Draco knew about it either."

Harry shrugged. "I only mentioned it so that you know that any kind of gift is valued. I'm honestly surprised that my birthday is remembered. To get cards, cakes and gifts is … well … unexpected."

Harry had believed that if the day wasn't completely ignored, it would be a big party to show off in some way. He would much have preferred his birthday to be ignored. That there was a middle ground where he actually felt more or less comfortable in the situation was … almost strange.

"I didn't know. Now I feel even worse," Draco said hoarsely. "If anyone deserves something new, it's you."

"Show-it, Malfoy, I just told you that I greatly appreciate the gifts. Second-hand is just fine."

Astoria swallowed. "I'm so, so sorry that you had to grow up like that."

Harry shrugged again. "Change of topic, maybe?"

He didn't want to think about it, not because the memories hurt, but because the reason that Harry grew up like that was in the room. In some hours Harry had to endure skin-to-skin contact with the man, yet again, and sooner or later, but probably sooner, he would have to have sex with him.

Some things were simply better not dwelt on.

"Right, yes." Astoria nodded decisively. "Brooms and Snitches. As the closest you have to an in-house Healer, I'm sorry to inform you that you are not cleared for flying yet, Harry, so don't try it. But know that you are getting there, fast and without a doubt. Just give it some more time."

Harry looked at the broom hovering over his lap and nodded, before looking at her.

"Alright, I can wait until I'm sure not to fall off and break my fool neck, or something equally stupid. Thank you, both of you."

There were still more presents, to Harry's utter astonishment. Three robes already in his size from Narcissa. While they were still very nice, made out of fine and most likely expensive material, they were also more like everyday robes than the first five she had found for him. One was black with a blue shimmer, one was dark grey with simple scrollwork embroidery in silver along the collar and cuffs, and one was light green with embroidered leaves down the sleeves and back. The leaves changed colours when Harry touched them, and Harry started and stared at the leaves, before touching them again. The leaves went from a deep green to a bright orange and then with another touch to deep red.

"I love magic," Harry whispered.

Other gifts were a scroll about Japanese water magic from Snape. Apparently, he had found Harry's favourite shop in magical Tokyo when he went there to inquire about potion ingredients and tools. Bandini and his wife gave Harry a knitted scarf, hat, and gloves in green and black. It might be summer, but Harry knew how it felt to be cold, and appreciated the gift, nonetheless. The rest of the gifts had come by way of owls and while Astoria admitted that everything had been checked thoroughly upon arrival, she also asked Harry to double check the gifts, when it turned out that everything was candy and chocolates. Harry did so right then and there and incinerated two of the gifts before looking up at Astoria again.

"The rest is just fine."

She swallowed. "And the two you burned?"

"Not fine." He shrugged. "It was only two out of over a dozen, it's still a lot of candy."

"What would the two have done? Was it poison?" She stared at him.

"My best guess; a slow and agonising death. I haven't had any Bertie Botts Beans in years." He opened the box, took two and held the box towards Draco and Astoria. "Do you want any?"

Both declined, as they had just eaten a lot of cake. When Harry held the box out to Voldemort, he made a negating gesture with a long-fingered hand.

"No, thank you, Harry, I never get any of the decent flavours. If I did not know any better, I would declare that someone put a curse on me."

Harry chuckled and bit into one of the beans he had taken and then grimaced.

"Uuh, soap."

Draco snorted.

The next bean was cherry, and Harry closed the box with an inward sigh. He needed to get this ball rolling, unfortunately.

"Do you have the opportunity to go for a walk and talk, tomorrow after tea, maybe?" Harry asked Voldemort.

"That would suit me," Voldemort answered and got up.

Harry spent the hours until dinner on the beach by the lake, reading the fictional mystery books written by a wizard, that Draco had loaned him, and eating some more candy. He liked the notion that the Wizarding World was so dependent on their candy, that one of the first business enterprises that got up and running after the war, was the candy makers and shops. It was probably just owl-order for now, but still.

Harry missed proper spicy food and thus his birthday dinner made his mouth burn, but he was kind enough to warn the others about the different spiciness of the small dishes, before he dug in. They ate with trepidation, but there were no disasters, no screaming and no running from the table in a desperate search to stop the flames in their mouths. Unexpectedly, Draco seemed to like the spiciness of it all as much as Harry did, while Voldemort and Astoria steered clear of the more pungent dishes.

For pudding, there was naturally more cake.

All in all, Harry felt it had been an alright birthday, certainly better than any at the Dursleys. Which was saying nothing good about the Dursleys, as these people had been Harry's literal mortal enemies until less than two months ago.

XXXXX

Next day after tea, Voldemort followed Harry out into the gardens, and they walked.

"I don't know about you, but having a date over my head for when I have to have sex is not conducive to … anything, really." Harry walked slowly, looking straight ahead. "And since I don't know what you think, I thought it was time to talk about it."

"I agree. It is not a comfortable notion."

"And the fact that I need to have sex when I don't necessarily think it's a great idea …" Harry stopped for a moment. "After all, I still don't entirely believe that I'm going to survive this in the long run, and quite often I have to remind myself that you are not going to kill a piece of your soul …" He stopped again. "One factor that is most definitely going to make the situation worse, is if it has to happen the next day, or the marriage and truce is annulled. That kind of pressure I could really do without."

"Again, I agree."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Are you interested in sex with men? Have you ever had sex with men before? Hell, do you even like sex? I am, and I have, and yes, for my part."

Fair was fair. Do not ask questions you do not want to answer yourself. And it was sort of necessary to know these things about each other.

"I have had sex with men in the past, in my teens and early twenties." Voldemort didn't sound bothered in the least by Harry's questions, his voice was calm and deliberate, but maybe Harry heard a bit of silk there. "After that, when I shattered my soul even more, my libido vanished completely. It has come back after I restored what I could of my soul. The last time I had sex was too long ago to be certain how much I like it now, but I have, in general, no difficulty with the notion of having sex."

They walked in silence for a while and when they reached the beach Harry transfigured two tree-stumps into beach chairs and sat down in one, looking out over the silent lake. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Voldemort sit down in the other chair.

"Me neither. I generally like sex, with men and women both. But this … with all the history between us …" Harry swallowed and decided against going into details. It truly was best not to think about it. "This isn't going to be easy."

"I know."

"I have tried to … figure out something that might make it easier … but to no avail. Not anything other than the fact that having the time limit right above my head will make it worse. I need to know that it doesn't have to happen right at that bloody moment, that I can say no and try again some other day. I will admit that I considered using the need of the soul shard, but honestly, I feel forced enough in that situation already. It might be disastrous to mess with that. I also considered the calm that comes with a magical circuit between us, but again, that will make me feel even more vulnerable, if not then and there, then later. So that's not a good idea either.

"Also, while I don't actually know how those scenarios seem to you; if I had been in your stead, I might have ended up feeling like a rapist, and I don't want that for you."

"You consider my feelings and well-being in this situation?" Voldemort asked.

Harry could have sworn he sounded perplexed.

"Well, yeah, I have to. We are married. I don't want you to look back in ten years or something, and discover that our … wedding night … put you in a position that made you feel like rapist. That's not healthy at all."

They sat in silence for a while.

"That might be selfishness on my part, too," Harry admitted after considering it. "I mentioned that I like sex, and there is a fidelity clause in the marriage contract. So, my choice is either celibacy for the rest of my life, or consider your feelings about this too, and hope that when I reach the point where I might want to have sex with you, you might want to agree."

"You believe that you might want to have sex with me, even after the necessary consummation of our union?" Voldemort was still perplexed, Harry was sure, but he didn't turn his head to look.

"In some months, or a year, or two, if I'm still alive and functioning, if the life you have let me have this far continues, yes, I think that quite likely. By then I should be able to trust you more, relax around you more and … you don't look half-bad, and you know it. At least, two of your appearances are … downright gorgeous."

Well, there's a thing I never thought I would admit to myself, never mind out loud to the man himself. I never learned when to shut up, I guess.

"I … see." A long beat of silence. "You are quite correct to surmise that having you under any kind of influence would make me feel … uncomfortable. I would very much prefer it not to be done like that. I realise that the consent you are able to give in this situation is tenuous at best …"

"No," Harry interrupted him harshly and turned his head to look into the red eyes of his husband. "I knew what I was getting into when I wrote my signature on that marriage contract. I knew what was being asked of me. Do not presume that I have not given my full consent in this."

Harry had to hold on to that, with both hands. He no longer had an actual choice. There was no way out at all. So, he had to hold on to the fact, the memory, that he had made this choice once, he had made it and he knew what was expected of him when he made it. It was his choice, and it would continue to be his choice.

His choice.

This was Harry's choice.

Because you have no other, a small voice whispered. You thought you would have choice until the consummation, but the soul shard stole that. There is no way for you to leave now. No way to get away. That is not a choice. That is not a choice at all. If you cannot say 'no', then any 'yes' is moot.

Harry pummelled that small voice down and down and buried it deep inside.

It was his choice to do this.

It was. It truly was.

He could not live with anything else.

Voldemort met his gaze for a long moment, his eyes searched Harry's but there wasn't as much as a flicker against Harry's Occlumency shields. Voldemort dipped his head in a nod.

"As you say, Harry."

Harry nodded and turned to look at the lake again.

"So, are we agreed to try soon, and that it is possible to back out if it shouldn't work out the first time?"

"We agree on that, yes."

"Good. The marriage contract states that only penetration counts as consummation. Do you prefer to take or be taken?"

"I prefer to take."

Harry's lips twitched. No surprise there. "I'm fine with both, so long care is shown, and lube or oil is used, so that works out. No kissing, though. Any rules you want to impose?"

"None that I can think of at this moment. I assume it should be possible to mention it then and there, if anything should show up."

"That should absolutely be possible."

"I have suitable lubrication to use."

"Good." Harry hesitated, drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "The marriage contract mentioned nothing about it, but I want to make it absolutely clear that I will under no circumstance, whatsoever, take a potion to fall pregnant. If you want heirs, you have to look elsewhere."

"As I am immortal, I have no need for heirs, thus no mention of it in the contract. I would not ask that of you."

Harry nodded, tried not to show his obvious relief, and went on to something else.

"I have noticed that you prefer to use the term 'spouse' when you speak of me. Are you partial to that term?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Would you consider using the term 'husband' instead? I don't know why, but 'spouse' makes me feel like I'm hearing nails on glass, it's … discordant, somehow."

"Then I will not use that term any longer. Husband it is."

"Thanks."

There was a long silence when Harry only heard the mellow waves lapping at the sand and the wind through the trees. The sun shone bright and hot still, but it had begun its descent towards the horizon.

"I do understand that you most likely will not believe me, but I consider it worth saying anyway; I will not use the act of having sex with you to hurt, harm or frighten you in any way. I do not wish to do that. I wish for you to tell me if I am not successful in this."

"Because you do not wish to feel like a rapist," Harry stated in a whisper.

"Exactly. I do like power, obviously more than is healthy, but this is one situation where I decidedly do not want any power. Rape is one of few atrocities I have never been culpable of. I do not intend to begin with my husband."

Harry swallowed. Every word rang of truth. Every single one.

Voldemort had never raped anyone, and he absolutely did not wish to do so now. He did not wish to hurt Harry in that way. In his mind Harry could believe that and appreciate that. His body was another matter. Still, it was good to know. Maybe it would be easier to tell Voldemort if something didn't sit right with Harry during sex. Maybe it would be easier to say no, retreat and try again on a later occasion. Maybe. He hoped so.

"I will try to do as you wish, to the best of my ability."

"That is all I ask, Harry."

A/N:

Thank you for the favs and the follows! They are much appreciated! I love to hear what you think about the story and the characters! It makes writing this story even more fun!

Hope you liked the talk they had. I felt it was very much necessary for them to have that talk, to avoid, you know ... (murder and mayhem) mishaps ...
I get so happy for each and every review! Just a hint.