33. Understanding the Nature of Breaks
Harry sank down on the sofa and let himself fall back with a sigh. It had been a long and tiring day; it had also been one of the best days he had had in … months. Because of the Dreamless Sleep potion he had woken up early and well rested. He had been around people, discussing, talking, joking and even laughing. He had done something that he really wanted to do, tried something new, made beautiful things that would help people and make their life a bit easier, and there had been no crisis, no confrontations, and no drama.
Alright, Astoria had worried him when she accused him of kidnapping children. He did know that strictly speaking, that was exactly what he did, if those portkeys ever activated. But he would rather stand trial for kidnapping children, than having to pick up the literal pieces of those small bodies, ever again.
An ice-cold memory rose in his mind, of a horrible day years in the past. The attack on Diagon Alley was over, the culprits gone. He hadn't been there, hadn't been able to help, to protect one he had sworn to fight for, to die for, to protect with everything he had, everything he was. And he hadn't been there. The moment he had realised that the small, cold and shattered body in his arms had been his warm, wonderful and colourful Teddy, his godson … It had devastated him.
Ice coated his heart, stung in his lungs, and Harry pushed the memory away. The memories of the pain, the screams the tears and the rage. He pushed them down, down, down.
No, no.
Never again. If there was anything he could do; never again.
Harry had made his choice, and he would stand by it, no matter what.
No matter what. He and Hermione agreed. Protect the children, no matter what.
No matter what. No matter the price in blood, pain, trauma or death. No matter what. That had been his mantra back then, that was his mantra now and it would always remain so.
Protect the children. The only innocents left in their world.
Protect the children; no price was too high.
Harry shook his head to get the antagonistic thoughts and ice-cold memories out of his mind. He had been happy and relaxed, and he really wanted to stay that way. It was so long since last time, and it would probably be quite some time until next time. Though, things were far better now than he had ever thought they would be. And that was because of the surprise he and Voldemort had gotten that day they consummated their marriage. Because of the soul shard that was stuck in Harry.
Finally, it was giving something back, not just making his life a miserable hell.
He felt Voldemort's curiosity and turned to look at the man where he sat in the chair next to Harry's sofa, his hood still up and his face part in shadow. You would never know it looking at him, but Voldemort was one of the most inquisitive persons Harry had ever met. And he would never, ever have guessed, if not for the mind bridge that now arched between their minds, in their shared mind space. Harry was beginning to believe that at the very least some of Voldemort's wealth of knowledge came from the simple fact that he couldn't stand not knowing; he was far too curious for that.
*What is happening? You were happy, then suddenly you were frustrated, aggressive, desolate and decided all at once, and then just resigned,* Voldemort said over the mind bridge.
*I was just thinking about today. It was a good day. Some memories interfered on the way, that's all.* He didn't need to say more, not with their mind doors open. Voldemort would hear and understand that it was just as Harry said, that he didn't hide anything or lie. He couldn't, and honestly, he didn't have a need to. The mind bridge had made communication and trust between them much easier, especially Harry's trust and Voldemort's communication. They still had a long way to go, but again, they had come farther than Harry had ever thought possible.
"Tea, anyone?" Astoria asked and slowly sat down on the sofa opposite Harry.
They had all gone to their rooms to freshen up some after the long day, as Astoria put it, and then they had met up in one of their most frequented drawing rooms. The walls were a soft green and the furniture was in different shades of green, gold and bronze. The carpet was a bronze so deep it was almost red. The fire in the big fireplace was not lit, the August day had been long and warm, and it wasn't necessary.
"I want tea, at least. Prim!" Astoria went on.
"Tea sounds good, but we just finished dinner, so I don't need anything to eat," Harry admitted.
"Tea does sound good, thank you, Astoria," Voldemort said.
"Prim, a simple tea for four, please," Astoria told the elf before looking at Harry and Voldemort. "Draco will be with us in a moment, he just needed a few minutes longer to wash up."
Not long after, both the tea and Draco had arrived, and Astoria had begun to wonder aloud at Ava Anastasia's excellent taste in colours and furniture. Harry might have done the work, but everything he had done had been on the girl's say-so, and that had been one determined little girl when she realised that her opinion truly mattered.
"I can't believe she is that good at only six years old, she might end up as an artist," Astoria finished with a smile, a gleam in her eyes and a small sip of tea.
Harry frowned. "She is at least eight years old, but I agree, she was very good. You should hire her as a colour consultant for the building."
"Eight, but she is so … small and delicate."
"War-child," Harry muttered, taking a sip of his own tea.
"But her mother … You cannot tell me that a woman that is so obviously concerned with her child's welfare, looks like she never missed a meal, while her child starved?" Astoria's voice became indignant.
"Skeeter is just as good with glamours as you are." Harry met her gaze and she flinched, even though he hadn't meant it in any derogatory way, he hoped she knew that. "But she isn't able to glamour how her body feels to others. She forgot herself and shook my hand when we left. Her hand is hardly more than skin and bones. It's possible to glamour children, but much harder, and it can be confusing for them if they are too young."
Astoria looked away and Harry felt his pleasure of the day slowly cool while he thought about the fate of Ava Anastasia and her mother. He didn't want that. He didn't want the happiness and pleasure to end, this day had been a rare treat and he didn't want the good feelings to give way for something else. For the desperation and sorrow that would come when the soul shard's need arose. He didn't want to think about that, not yet, preferably not at all … but he already was … No, he didn't want that, didn't want to drive away the feelings of freedom, of happiness, of being in a good place, for once. He didn't want those feelings to go away. He could hardly remember what they felt like, and to have them for a whole day had made him greedy; he wanted more!
"Harry?"
Harry looked up at Voldemort that had sat down next to him on the sofa. The hood of Voldemort's robe was pushed down to his shoulders and his eyes roamed Harry's face.
"I want a break!" Harry blurted the words, hardly aware of them, just … desperate. "This day has been good, I don't want it to end, not now, not like this, not before it's necessary. I want a break. I need it. I need one good day."
"I am not going to refuse you, Harry, you do not need to persuade me. That was the agreement we had; you were to ask when you wanted a break. My only question is this; why now and not before, when we both know that you have needed a break before today."
Harry froze, then frowned. That was an interesting question. The fear that slowly had begun to crawl up in him retreated.
"I … don't know," Harry admitted. "The first time it was very much needed, I was going out of my mind … Other times, that were similar … I should have asked, several times, actually, but it didn't feel quite … right, not quite … safe, to do so. But today … today I have to ask, because I don't want to let this day, and the contentment I have been able to feel, end before it absolutely has to." He met Voldemort's eyes. "I'm not sure why today is so different, feels so different …"
Because of the mind bridge Voldemort knew that what Harry said was how he felt. They could hold things back without the other knowing, but every word spoken had to be the truth, or the other would know in a moment.
Harry looked down, hesitated, and reached for his cup to take another sip.
No one said anything, but Harry could feel Voldemort's readiness in his mind, together with his own pondering. Voldemort wouldn't request Harry to explain himself further. The second Harry asked, they would establish the magical link that forced Harry to stay calm and content, and quite happy, like he wanted to, like he needed to.
"I …" Astoria hesitated. "I don't really know enough of the situation to really say anything about it, but it sounded to me like you already have the answer, in a roundabout way."
"Oh?" Harry looked at her. "Please tell us your theory."
"Alright, it might be wrong though, I hardly know enough … Today you want what you call a break, whatever that is and however that works, because you want to keep feeling happy. Because you want to end this day in a good way and already problems and fears - I'm just guessing here - are making it hard to keep the feeling of happiness."
Harry nodded.
"But the other times you have needed a break, like the first time, wasn't to keep holding on to happiness, it was to stave off difficult thoughts and feelings. A situation quite different from now, and a situation … a situation you have been in far more than the one you face today."
Harry nodded again.
"Getting relief from pain, mental as well as physical, can feel terrifyingly good, and a lot of people have become addicted to potions or charms that let them free of pain for a few hours or days. You said it didn't feel safe to ask for a break at the other times, when you wanted away from something painful. Yet asking for help to keep something good was a lot easier, even if it is the same … situation … that does it. Your subconscious might simply … have tried to keep you … well, self-reliant, even if that left you in pain. I think it is safe to say that your need for independence is … extreme. Not that it isn't completely understandable," she finished, then made a grimace. "Do I make sense? Am I even close?"
"I … that's … yeah." Harry nodded and looked down at the table, before looking at Astoria. "Yes, that seems … that seems about right, to me." He looked at Voldemort. "It makes sense, in a twisted kind of way. I really did plan to ask for help when I needed it, after that first time. I was fully committed to the idea, I thought, but after that … Even when it got bad, really, really bad, I still couldn't quite get myself to admit, even to myself, that it was bad enough to ask for help, so I never did."
Voldemort nodded. "Perhaps a set schedule for breaks would be better than having you ask when you require one, since asking might be too hard. Besides, if there is a set schedule and you do get breaks at regular intervals, perhaps you will not need them as much at other times. And if you do, you are always welcome to ask."
"That … might be right. I will have to think about it."
"I will bring it up in a couple of days. You are obviously not to be trusted to do so yourself."
"That is … also correct, I guess. Unfortunately." Harry grimaced and then looked at Voldemort. "Do we have to leave? I kind of wanted to talk the day over with the three of you, but …"
"You don't have to leave unless that is what you want, not for our sake at least," Draco promptly said. "Not that I know what's going on, but the sentiment still stands."
Astoria nodded.
Harry looked from Voldemort to Astoria and Draco and back. He realised that he truly didn't mind having his break and being like that, so relaxed and calm, in front of the other couple. Come to it, he didn't mind the thought that they would know a bit more about the consequences of the soul shard, even if the soul shard itself always had to be a secret. If they knew, then he knew that they didn't make a lot of assumptions and theories about him and his situation, and he found that he preferred that.
Harry told Voldemort this over the mind bridge and met the man's eyes. *What do you think? Are you alright with them knowing more about it, and with being seen when your husband uses you as a pillow? Because I'm not even going to try to sit upright and on my own. That defeats the purpose, really.*
*You may tell them whatever you are comfortable with, Harry. And I believe I can stand the thought of being seen when you use me as a pillow, as you so aptly put it, but maybe our hosts should know what will happen beforehand, so as not to shock them with our impropriety.*
Harry chuckled out loud and looked across the table at Astoria and Draco. "I get extremely … relaxed, when I get this kind of break," Harry said. "As in I'm not even going to try to sit upright and properly, and while I do not slur or anything, my speech pattern and voice may change, as may my inhibitions. And I'm not going to take well to any jibes or disapproval because of this, so if you believe that it may make you uncomfortable, then it's best that we leave."
"Would you say that it compares to a Calming Draught, or two?" Draco asked, seemingly more interested than put out.
"Yes, and no. It's more … comprehensive, than that. It's different, it's more, and I don't know quite how to describe it. I can try later, when I'm feeling it."
Draco nodded.
"And as for not sitting correctly and speaking without restraint," Astoria said, "I had planned to talk with you both about it … or more to the point, about your status as guests at Malfoy Manor."
"Oh?" Voldemort said.
Harry noticed the slight displeasure Voldemort felt, but there was nothing more. Apparently, he trusted Astoria to give them more time before showing them the door.
"It's just pure-blood customs, my Lord. I'm afraid I will never really get out of the habit. Guests are thought of and treated in one particular way … family are treated in another. And sometimes, long time guests are treated more like family when all parties agree on that. Such situations might make co-living more relaxed and well, comfortable, for all involved. If that is what everyone wishes, of course. Would you like to discuss this now or after you feel more relaxed, Harry?" Astoria looked at him. "Or not at all, my Lord?" She looked at Voldemort.
"I think I might like the chance to not have to stand on ceremony in what is supposed to be my home," Harry stated while looking at Voldemort.
"As you wish. I have no difficulty with the notion."
"Break first?"
"Yes."
*I believe it best to close the mind door, just in case. If something should happen when combining a mind bridge and a magic circuit … I don't want any surprises today,* Harry said and when he got an affirmative feeling from Voldemort, they both began to close the mind doors.
Voldemort raised a privacy barrier without being asked. Harry didn't mind that Astoria and Draco saw him relaxing in Voldemort's arms, or he wouldn't mind in a few moments, at least, but the beginning could be a bit awkward. Voldemort held out his hand and Harry found himself hesitating before taking it. Yes, it was weird. Yes, it was hard to phantom that he willingly went along with this. But he needed that break. He needed one good day, because he could no longer remember having any day as good as this one, and he doubted that he would get anything similar for a long while. So, he needed this.
He needed this.
Harry's magic spun out of him and into Voldemort, and he felt Voldemort's magic brush against his own magical core and again he was hit with how very intimate this was. Magic to magic. More intimate than sex, or less? He wasn't sure. Less conventional, at the very least. Voldemort's pale, long fingers around his hand were cool and dry to the touch, and careful, so very careful.
"Harry." A finger under his chin made him see up and meet the red gaze of his husband. All doubt, all fear, all pain fell away. Relief, sweet, sweet relief. Harry gasped for breath; tears stung in his eyes. He was calm. He was safe. He was anchored. A whimper escaped his lips, and he felt a tear run down his cheek, only to be wiped away by Voldemort's thumb.
He had thought he remembered the feeling of being calm and safe, of being able to truly breathe. He didn't. He couldn't really remember this kind of feeling, he would go mad from really knowing what he lacked, what he missed.
"Harry." Voldemort stroked his cheek and slowly stroked down his arm. "Are these tears of pain?" he asked gently.
"No, relief," Harry said hoarsely. "Just relief. I thought I remembered, but I didn't … I didn't. I can't …" He sobbed once and felt how he tilted his head into Voldemort's hand when the man began to stroke his temple and into his hair. His eyelids fluttered and almost closed. He felt heavy and his body was already slightly leaning towards Voldemort without touching him, not yet, but getting there, and wanting to get there. To not be alone. To be held. To be safe. To feel arms around him and know that he was safe, that he didn't have to fight, didn't have to run, didn't have to curse and kill and protect and … Safe, at peace, anchored.
"Do you want to come closer, Harry?"
"Yes, please. If … if that is alright with you."
"Of course."
His body felt so heavy, so relaxed, but he managed to scoot a bit closer, and Voldemort dragged him all the way in, flush against his side, with his arms around him. Harry melted into Voldemort's embrace. One of Voldemort's hands lay against his upper arm and his thumb made small circles against his skin. The other hand stroked his face and neck and the touch felt so good. So, so good. Skin against skin.
Harry didn't mind that both his t-shirt and Voldemort's robes were between them, but it was possible that he was looking forward to experiencing more skin against skin, later. And that was something he never thought would happen. Was it the sex that had made the difference? Or more likely, the familiarity they had experienced since the manifestation of the mind bridge? He couldn't be certain.
"Harry, are you with me?"
"If I must," he mumbled, but then remembered that if he wasn't coherent, he would push all responsibility for what happened and what didn't over on Voldemort, and Voldemort might end up struggling with decisions that he shouldn't have to, and didn't need to, make on his own. That Harry felt calm and safe, didn't free him of responsibilities, and neither should it. Harry cleared his throat.
"Yes, I'm with you, just enjoying the feelings this truly weird connection makes me feel."
"I am glad. Would it be alright with you if I removed the privacy barrier? I am curious about what Astoria meant with a change in our status at Malfoy Manor."
"Curious, huh? Can't have that. Yes, do lower the barrier. I need a few moments more to gather my wits again, though, before being a part of a conversation."
"Then you may listen in, I will field any questions until you are ready to respond to them."
"Thanks."
Suddenly the low murmurs of Astoria's and Draco's voices filled the room.
"That is a good idea, but we will have to ask them … My Lord?" Astoria broke of her own sentence and Harry forced his eyes open, a bit surprised, he couldn't remember when he had closed them.
He had never seen Astoria and Draco sit any way but nice and proper next to each other. Now Astoria had her legs across Draco's lap, and she leaned up against the sofa armrest with several pillows, her lap and legs were covered with pieces of parchment that both she and her husband were reading. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing either of them thus cosied up.
"My Lord, is Harry … well?" Astoria sounded uncertain.
Harry forced himself to really focus on her and Draco. Astoria held herself stiffly while watching Harry and Voldemort, but Draco was slack jawed with his eyes glued on Harry, and Voldemort's hands on him. Apparently, the warning hadn't been enough.
"Harry is quite well, Astoria, he simply needs a few moments before joining the conversation. I believe there is a chance he might inform you both a bit more about the situation, later." Voldemort stroked Harry's neck and Harry felt himself sink a bit deeper against his husband.
Draco closed his jaws with an audible click and Astoria swallowed before she nodded.
"I would like you to elaborate on our status at Malfoy Manor, if you please, Astoria."
"Yes, of course, my Lord. It is simply what I said. Sometimes people not in a family live together for a long time and then it feels unnecessary to always follow all guest protocols. Life in general can get a bit … stiff. Most often this happens when two families will join because of marriage and they spend a lot of time together because of this, but even if that won't happen here, there is nothing wrong with agreeing to let up on some of the protocols to make life more comfortable for everyone, if that is something all involved would like.
"My Lord, I absolutely meant it when I offered you the wing that you now live in. The Manor is huge and even if Draco and I get the big family we desire, we will have more than enough space for ourselves and any guests we wish to have. This is a Manor meant to house several branches of the family at the same time, after all.
"All that to say, the offered wing is yours to do with as you wish. Now that Harry knows so many spells to change a building, maybe he would like to make it more personal. I have no objections so long as the load bearing walls don't collapse." She stopped for a moment. "Harry, I … I can't forget what you said towards the end today, just before decorating the Skeeters apartment. You said that you never have had the opportunity to choose your own home. You didn't choose to live at Malfoy Manor, but please, do as you wish with that wing to make it your home. Your imagination and skill are the only limit. Or, if it would suit you both better; build a home of your own, anywhere on the Manor's grounds. This is also part of the reason why I brought up getting rid of the protocols, even if I at first meant to wait a bit longer; one doesn't stand on ceremony in one's own home."
"I think we should do as Astoria suggested," Harry's voice was a bit rasping, but completely understandable. He couldn't quite help himself, when Voldemort's hand stopped a moment against his cheek, he leaned into it with a small sigh. He couldn't even regret it, couldn't worry about it and what it meant. It felt too good, he was too calm. "I like it."
If he couldn't choose his own home, redecorating a wing of the Manor sounded like a nice alternative. And who knew, maybe he would build a house, a home, some day. Right now, he could understand why a place of their own wasn't a priority of Voldemort's, when there were so many people that didn't even have any place to call their own yet. Besides, he honestly didn't know what he would have done if he had been stuck alone with Voldemort these past months. No, not being alone with Voldemort had been a literal lifesaver and Harry wasn't going to complain about living in someone else's Manor when people still lived in tents, and he had a bloody wing all for himself. It wasn't like he needed to see another human all day if he didn't wish to. The Manor and the property were ridiculously huge.
"And what will you do with the rest of the wing, with our home?" Voldemort asked, slightly suspicious.
"You heard the witch; anything I bloody well want to, so long the walls don't collapse. I will leave your suite alone, though, if you want me to."
"That would be highly appreciated," Voldemort said dryly.
"But I have been eyeing one of the rooms on the third floor," Harry admitted, "I think it could be a good library, given some work and a lot of books. The view from that room is especially nice. I want bay windows and lots of reading nooks, and a couple of well-lit tables as research stations."
"I do have most of my collection in crates, so a bigger library would be convenient."
"Books belong on shelves, not in crates, husband mine."'
"Then if you produce the shelves, I will fill them."
"We have a deal. If I get to read the books."
"If you are able to read them, you are most welcome."
"None of them are in English, are they?" Harry asked warily.
"Just about a third."
Harry huffed, but Voldemort carded a long hand through his hair, and he decided to not say anything more. It truly felt too good.
And he wasn't going to think about how extremely bizarre it was that he not only accepted physical contact, but that he welcomed it, from Lord Voldemort, no less! He wasn't thinking about it, not now at least, and hopefully not later either. It wouldn't help him.
"Then we agree that we from now on are on more familiar terms, when it's only the four of us?" Astoria asked slowly.
"Yes, for my part," Harry said.
"I agree," Voldemort said.
"He is your boss, though, how do you deal with that?" Harry asked.
"He is our Lord, and even Lords should be allowed to unwind in their own home, if they so wish, and our Lord just told us that he wishes to do so," Astoria said without hesitation. "And us being on more familiar terms does not translate to us being disrespectful. Are you quite well, Harry?"
"Right now, more than just well, thank you. I asked for this, Astoria, and I knew what I asked for. I tried to warn you that I would not seem completely like myself."
"I know, I know, it's just … the change was greater than I thought possible. Not in any negative way, at all … just … you look so very … content."
"Right now, I am very content. And hopefully I won't regret it later. I didn't last time, so I hope that won't change. It feels so very good, being able to relax and truly breathe, without worrying, and without all the violent feelings that rages inside me most of the time."
Silence filled the room for a moment before Draco made a small noise. "If I ask you a question now, Harry, would that destroy your peace?"
"Most likely not. Just ask."
"Astoria's job today was in regard to public relations, and she talked quite a lot to the press, but you did too, and you did a lot of work in Diagon Alley. You built a whole apartment building by yourself, for Merlin's sake! I haven't yet cleared exactly what Skeeter can write in respect to your decoration of her own apartment, because I wanted to know if I could get her to mention one specific quote."
Harry frowned. "Why would you want that?"
Draco searched through the pile of parchment that covered Astoria's legs on top of his lap. "I wrote it down right after you said it, because I do recognise it when I hear gold."
Harry snorted, but Astoria looked at him with big, ice blue eyes, and they were bright with tears. Evidently, she knew what Draco was looking for, and she didn't find it funny.
"It was when Astoria asked why you made all the apartments so elaborate, and you said, and I quote:
"Most of these people, if not everyone, have lost everything they owned during the war. That includes things like a feeling of safety and unassailingness that most people have. I would like to help them get back some of what they lost, even if it's just a sense of home and belonging. I use the time and effort to make these apartments beautiful and special, because of that. Also, I have never been able to choose where I live, myself, and I make these apartments into something, somewhere, I think I personally would like to live."
"That was what you said, and that is … honestly something worth getting printed. Because it's sincere and real, and we need that. Not us, as in those who rule, but us, as in the magical population as a whole."
"You truly think so? Because I just spouted what was on my mind right then. I mean … I meant it, and still do, naturally, but it wasn't actually profound or anything."
"That's just it, Harry," Astoria said, "it might have been simple words, but the meaning is anything but. Also, the fact that you, Harry Potter, said the words, that you care about things like that; that matters. We are trying to build a community, just as much as we are trying to build buildings. Your words will help with that."
"If you are sure, go for it," Harry said and felt himself stiffen for a moment with the thought that he wouldn't get the chance to do something similar anytime soon, if ever. Not help build new homes, not meet so many people, not help a child make their first real home exactly as they wanted it, not joke with Susan or eat take-away …
"Harry?" Long fingers turned his head sideways and up, so he met Voldemort's red gaze and he breathed out and relaxed completely again. He was calm, he was safe. That was what mattered now. The rest … he could, he would, learn to live with the rest.
"What did you just think about? If you do not want your words printed by the press, then they will not be printed," Voldemort said.
"No, it wasn't that; that's alright."
"You felt something negative enough to react to it, I would very much like to know what that was about." The words were softly spoken and while the ruby eyes should be burning into him, he felt like he was drowning in them, and not in an uncomfortable way. Slow waves of calm lapped against his mind, his body became even heavier, and his eyelids slowly closed halfway.
"Harry, please do tell me what could disturb you so when we both know that hardly anything has that ability when you reach this degree of tranquillity."
"It was a very good day, and I regret that it probably won't ever happen again," Harry admitted and closed his eyes. He thought he wouldn't have said it if he wasn't this calm, this safe. Saying the words and feeling them again brought on a stab of pain, and with a gasp his eyes snapped open again. Fortunately, Voldemort was still looking right at him, and his gaze dragged him down into calmness once more. A long, cool hand was put carefully against his cheek, but the red eyes narrowed.
"What was so unusual about today that you believe it will not occur ever again?" Voldemort asked, and only the stare kept Harry connected to his calm when he was forced to think more about it.
He only wanted a good day, only one, not to talk about why it wouldn't happen again.
"I got to go out, try something new, do something good and helpful with my magic and meet people. When are any of those things going to happen again, let alone all of them? This is not helpful; change of topic please."
"No, I disagree."
Harry blinked confused at Voldemort, realising this was the first time the man had ever refused to change topic when Harry had asked for it. When he thought about it, it was truly strange that he always changed the topic when Harry asked, but also that he would refuse this time.
"There is no guarantee that a perfect recurrence of this day will occur ever again, it is truly rather doubtful, but you may still experience its elements and hope for something similar."
Harry blinked at him again. Voldemort stroked his cheek with his fingertips.
"Why would you not, Harry? You do need trustworthy guards if you are to leave the Manor and its grounds, even with your warded robe and powerful charms, and the guards I would give that task also have other tasks to fulfil. But a day or an afternoon now and again is far from impossible."
"That … what … I … Why?" Harry stammered.
"Why not? You did incredible work, work few, if any, could do as fast and as well as you, and you enjoyed it, why should you not do something similar again?" Voldemort frowned a bit. "But maybe not an entire apartment building in one single day? That is not necessary."
The world spun incredibly fast and had frozen completely over at the same time. Harry just stared at his husband, unblinking.
"Breathe, Harry." Long fingers tapped his cheek and red eyes narrowed infinitesimally. Harry heaved for breath once before the calm managed to swamp him again. Evidently, it was harder to keep calm when talking about something that was this … confusing and upsetting. It seemed like Voldemort actually had to work for it. Harry wondered if that was right. If it was right of him to let Voldemort struggle with that, or if he maybe should let the man retreat and take responsibility for his own feelings.
Harry stared at the man, undecided, until Voldemort put some pressure on the hand that was against Harry's cheek, and Harry rested his head against Voldemort's shoulder. He would give it a bit longer, if it seemed like keeping Harry calm gave Voldemort too much hassle, he would tell him to stop.
"Really?" he asked after long moments in silence.
"Truly." A hesitation. "Astoria has worked at getting you out of the Manor for weeks, with my knowledge and blessing. She was thrilled when you asked to accompany her to Diagon Alley today."
Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. He had been manipulated, slowly and well, but he couldn't be upset about it, even without the calm that filled him. He would never, even now, have believed in an invitation to join Astoria like he had done today. He would have assumed it to be some sort of trap, for him to talk to the press, for him to draw out Hermi or any of his other allies, or one of the many dissidents that still roamed the land, something, anything.
Suspicion and caution had kept him alive for years, and through so many horrible experiences, it wasn't something he could just push aside. So how could he be upset about the fact that Astoria knew him well enough to not even try to invite him, and instead made sure he wanted to go enough to ask?
"I may go back and build something more?" he asked after a long silence.
"You may, whenever you want, and have the guards."
"Oh, alright then."
Voldemort strengthened his grip around Harry for a short moment before relaxing it again. It wasn't frightening, that gesture, not even a bit uncomfortable, and Harry thought that it might not have been all that uncomfortable even without the calm.
"I will remove the privacy barrier now."
Harry looked around and for the first time noticed the shimmering magic around them.
"Oh, yeah, right."
Voldemort removed it and again Harry saw Draco and Astoria on the other sofa. Now Astoria sat snuggled into Draco with her legs curled under her and Draco's arm around her. She smiled at Harry when she saw him, but had to fight to keep it when Voldemort told them, in very few words, that Harry hadn't realised that he was free to go out and help, or just meet people, as he had done today. Harry didn't mind Voldemort informing them, but he wouldn't have found the words himself.
"Sorry about the underhandedness?" Astoria made it a question and quirked an eyebrow.
"I deserved it for being a suspicious bastard," Harry answered. "I would never have gone, any other way."
Astoria nodded. She already knew that.
"Thanks for doing it and putting up with a suspicious bastard despite it all. I appreciate it."
"It was my pleasure, Harry." She smiled. "I hope you will come and ask when you would like to give it another go."
"Absolutely. Next week, maybe?"
"I will check when we have the opportunity and the people to make it happen."
"Decorating was great fun, so if anyone wants help to make their place liveable, I wouldn't mind helping, in the least. Or I can do the groundwork for a building. I'm happy with either." He hesitated. "But maybe decorating was a bit more fun, particularly with the new residents right there to decide the look of their new home."
"All the apartments were liveable, Harry, you made sure of that, but I get your meaning and will keep it in mind."
"Good. Thank you. Now, I do think I would like to tell the both of you a … thing or two … if you don't mind knowing, that is. There will be things I cannot tell you and others that I don't have an answer to, but … well, we are living together and there are a few rather obvious circumstances I guess you could be speculating about."
"There are, but we don't need to know anything, not if it makes any of you uncomfortable," Astoria said.
"I have reached a place where I'm … passably alright with you knowing, but it cannot go any further."
"Of course not," Draco said. "Do you want an Oath of Silence?"
"Yes, I do," Voldemort broke in.
Astoria and Draco got to their feet, drew their wands, and spoke the Oaths that would make sure that they could not talk or in any other way share this evening's revelations with anyone. After a nod from Voldemort, they both sat down again.
"So, apparently surviving the Killing Curse has its own set of consequences," Harry began. He would tell the truth, mostly, but in such a way that there would be no need to come close to dangerous soul magic, soul shards and mind bridges. "The same goes for being blasted to pieces by a rebounding Killing Curse, and somehow surviving anyway. It's not possible to replicate the circumstances to check if a similar outcome would occur, or if this truly was a one-time phenomenon, so there are quite a few unknowns. The occurrence, as we know it, did make a mental connection between the parties, Voldemort and myself. I noticed it several times in my youth, but I was able to master Occlumency some years ago and shut down the connection. But it wasn't gone, and when Voldemort and I spent time together … it made itself known, in a rather violent way."
"When you got so sick you almost died?" Astoria whispered.
"Yes, that was when I noticed the consequences in full. It was made worse by all the violent and bloody history between us. Being dependent on my enemy while barely sane after years of war with said enemy … I wasn't exactly happy about that. For some reason, the connection between us now demands physical closeness. That is why we retreat every evening, to minimise the trouble and pain it causes me, and in the long run; would cause Voldemort. Without that closeness I would grow ill, then even more mentally unstable than I already am, and then I would most likely die a very painful death.
"I'm still not happy about it, and truth to be told, I probably never will be happy about being so dependent on another being, former enemy made husband aside."
Harry knew that he most likely would have resented it, even if it had been Hermione he had been dependent on, in such a way. It would be easier if it had been her, he knew and loved her and they didn't have a bloody history of murder and violence, not towards each other at least, but he would still have resented the need.
Astoria and Draco only had a few questions which applied to Harry's safety. What were the warning signs they should look for and what should they do if that happened? Questions that would have been asked of people that suffered different diseases. Harry wasn't sick, but the very general questions made him feel less like a unique specimen, and more like someone that was learning to live with a set of boundaries brought on by outside forces.
"Harry?" Voldemort's voice cut into a discussion between Astoria and Harry about whether Harry could publicly offer his services as an interior decorator for the new apartments, or if that would just invite trouble.
"Yes?" Harry said and at the same moment noticed his hand clutching Voldemort's, almost desperately. "Oh, alright then."
For once he wasn't worried, concerned, agitated or aggrieved. He simply said good night to Astoria and Draco, who for the first time understood why he and Voldemort withdrew at this time every night. Voldemort told them that he at least wouldn't come back down, he had some work to do, and Harry admitted that he was done for the day too.
Not long after Harry rested in Voldemort's arms. Still calm. Still safe. Still knowing that he wouldn't have felt either without Voldemort forcing it on him, and he still didn't care. He needed this calm, he wanted it, he wanted the reminder that not every day had to be a fight, not every day had to be a struggle.
Voldemort stroked his back and Harry pressed his face against the man's neck, inhaling his scent of wild, green places. He wondered vaguely why Voldemort sometimes smelled like that and other times of cool desert nights, and sometimes both.
Harry felt Voldemort press his lips lightly against Harry's temple. They remained there, cool and soft, and Harry experienced a strange kind of peace. He took a deep breath and relaxed even heavier against Voldemort. One tear ran down his face from behind his closed eyelids.
He was safe. He knew that now. Not because Voldemort made him feel it, no. He knew it because in that moment he finally let himself accept what his mind had known for weeks.
He was safe.
Harry Potter was safer now than he had ever been in his life.
He was safe.
Voldemort would never hurt or harm him again. Voldemort would never, ever kill him.
He was safe.
In his mind he had known that for weeks, but he hadn't accepted it, not truly. He hadn't been able to genuinely feel it. Not even with the mind bridge. But with those lips against his temple the knowledge, the feeling, sank down into his blood and bones.
Finally, and completely.
Harry was safe from Voldemort. He was safe with Voldemort. He would still have restrictions in his life, he was still bound to the man by marriage and in both mind and soul. But he was safe.
Harry was truly safe. Another silent tear ran down his cheek and he gave a small sigh.
Voldemort removed his lips and placed a long-fingered hand around the back of Harry's head. A bit like he didn't entirely realise what he had done. It made Harry feel even better, even safer. Another confirmation that it wasn't only him the soul connection was working on.
He wasn't alone.
And he was safe.
A/N:
Finally, Harry realised that he is actually safe with Voldemort! Finally! That took some time and work. And he also realised that he is not a prisoner at the Manor. I hope you liked the way I dealt with it and that the path there made sense.
This chapter also give some answers as to why Voldemort and Harry remain living at Malfoy Manor. It made sense for me, and I'm honestly not certain that they will move anytime soon, even with how good Harry is at building houses. Sorry if this seems wrong to any of you, but I have my plans and this is one of them.
Thank you so much for the comments, 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! Each and every comment makes me smile!
Hope you liked it! Please review!