46. Confusion I
"Slytherin, get your arse to the duelling room, now!"
Granger's voice thundered through the Manor and Voldemort's first reaction was to reach for his wand, find her and put her under the Cruciatus until her voice broke from the screaming. He hadn't even reached the door out of his study before the red haze lifted and he looked at the situation differently. There was no reason for Granger to shout like that unless something were seriously wrong, and from what he had seen of the witch, not much could upset her. Actually, he could only think of one thing, one person, that could cause the witch this much upset.
Harry.
Voldemort couldn't remember if he ran to the door, or flew, but he smashed through the door and now that he was outside the confines of his rooms, he could hear screaming. High-pitch and desperate. I'm burning up - I'm going to pieces - I'm dying – screaming. And he recognised the voice far too easily. He had heard that voice scream in pain more often than he would wish.
Harry.
And doors crashed open all over the Manor, either from Granger's deafening message or from Harry's screaming. And Voldemort moved. Later, he couldn't swear that he hadn't disapparated, even if that wasn't supposed to be possible for humans inside the Manor. He found himself outside the duelling room and saw Astoria several doors down, her face pale and drawn, blue eyes huge with worry.
"Keep people away unless I call for you," Voldemort told her.
She bowed deeply and he went in.
Harry lay on the floor to the side of the long duelling room, by a fireplace filled with dancing flames. He writhed against the polished floor, face wet with tears, mouth open in a silent scream as he clawed on the floor. The pain was too much for him to completely comprehend, to handle. Then sound came out of his mouth again and he screamed in excruciating pain.
Voldemort opened his mind door and felt for Harry on the other side of the bridge, without crossing it himself. He could feel, almost see, Harry clawing, fumbling, banging on the door that kept them apart. The pain was too much, far too much, and he wasn't even able to focus enough to get the door open, to call for help, to get onto the bridge and away from the pain.
And at the same time, Harry looked complete and whole, in immense pain, but without any obvious wounds. Only one thing Voldemort knew of could cause Harry this kind of pain without any obvious explanation, like someone pointing a wand at him to hold him under the Cruciatus. It wasn't supposed to happen for at least a couple of hours yet, as they had yet to sit down for dinner, but it was evident that the soul shard was acting up and leaving Harry in a world of pain.
"V … Voldemort … get … get … Voldemort," Harry panted, his head rolling while he tried to look at Granger who sat beside him on the floor. Then he shut his eyes and screamed before he brought himself under a semblance of control yet again.
"I already yelled for him, Harry, he …" Granger looked up and right at Voldemort. "He is here now. What can he do? What can I do?"
"Don't … don't let me hurt h … him," Harry said as Voldemort crossed the floor.
"Why would you hurt him?" Granger asked, but looked straight at Voldemort while she spoke, her misgivings clear as day.
"Don't … don't … let me." Harry whimpered and panted, thrashing on the floor.
"Fine, I will not let you hurt him. I promise, Harry."
Voldemort transfigured his robe to a pair of trousers, but no shirt, and Granger's eyes narrowed. When Voldemort banished Harry's T-shirt off him, her lips curled in a silent snarl.
"If Harry has not told you anything yet, he will tell you when he again is able," Voldemort told her without looking away from the burning suspicion in her eye.
She gave him a short nod. Willing to cooperate, for now.
"He is never calm or happy if it gets this far and he will most likely try to attack me in desperation before calming down." Voldemort knew it was the soul shard that forced the reaction, in desperation and also in an attempt to get closer. "If you intend to help, hold his hands while I get a grip around him. Make no mistake; he will fight it, and it is also the only method of making his situation better. Skin against skin contact is required. I will haul him to his feet; thus it will be easier to move when he is able to think again."
Granger narrowed her eyes as her sharp mind was working furiously while she took in his words and Harry's panting and whimpering on the floor. Then she raised her wand and an enormous plush sofa in blue velvet appeared right behind Voldemort.
"It's harder to keep someone in check if you are standing up," she commented. "I will get the whole story before I leave here tonight." That had not been a question, but a statement, so Voldemort didn't answer.
"On three, then," Granger said, and this time Voldemort nodded.
"One. Two. Three." She grabbed Harry's wrists the moment before Voldemort hauled Harry up and against his bare chest. Harry roared and trashed and tossed his head, but with Granger's help Voldemort got him up from the floor and then down on the sofa in front of Voldemort. Harry was tugging desperately at his arms and bucking against Voldemort, trying to get free, more or less mindless in confusion and pain, Voldemort assumed.
Granger held grimly on with a strength that surprised Voldemort. She had to fight to keep a hold on Harry's wrists, his hands were now partially transformed into clawed paws, but she did manage to hold on.
"Free one hand at a time," Voldemort told Granger and she nodded, waited a second and let one of Harry's wrists go.
Voldemort caught the arm and brought it against Harry's chest with Voldemort's own hand and arm on top, before they did it again when Granger released the other wrist. The paws transformed back to hands before they managed to do any damage, as if Harry knew that it would soon get better and that he didn't have to fight, even if he still seemed entirely out of it.
Harry shuddered and heaved for breath and now and again he tried to move a bit, but all in all he calmed down practically instantly. The pain should be gone almost at once, Voldemort knew, but the memory of pain as well as the confusion and fear could make him a bit bewildered. Voldemort waited it out and wasn't surprised in the least when he heard a sob and felt Harry's whole body tremble in his arms.
"No," Harry said hoarsely and shivered. "It wasn't supposed to happen, not now, not yet. It wasn't supposed to happen. No, no, no." He sobbed harder. "What's happening, it's not supposed to … No, no, why did it … What … what …"
He got his hands out of Voldemort's grip and laid his own hands on top, gripping Voldemort's hands hard before pushing them against his own flesh. It seemed like he tried to make Voldemort hold him tighter, and when Voldemort did tighten his grip, Harry pushed himself closer to his chest and turned his head so his face lay against Voldemort's neck. Voldemort feared his teeth for one moment, but while Harry was upset, he was cognisant now. He could feel Harry's tears against his bare skin.
"Shhh, do not think about that now, my own," Voldemort said in Parseltongue.
They weren't alone and he didn't want Granger to overhear them. It was bad enough that she saw them, saw Harry, like this. The thought of Harry being seen as weak and open to attack made Voldemort bristle and he had to shake himself hard and remind himself that Granger was Harry's closest friend. She would not see this as an opportunity for an attack, not now and not later. Harry trusted the witch with both his life and his sanity, Voldemort knew that, so while he didn't like what felt like an intrusion, he would have to accept it. For Harry.
"You need to calm down, to breathe. Do not think about any of that right now."
Harry whimpered and he pushed his face into Voldemort's neck and tugged Voldemort's arms tighter around himself at the same time. Voldemort tightened his grip around his husband even more and turned his head to make it easier for Harry to hide against his neck. He felt more tears against his skin.
"Shhh, shhh, breathe, simply breathe for now."
"But it's not alright, it's not! It shouldn't happen, not now, not now!" Harry spoke in Parseltongue too, most likely because Voldemort did. Harry was rigid against him, and his breath came fast and hard when he didn't sob.
Voldemort freed one of his hands by putting one of Harry's against Voldemort's shoulder, so he had something to hold on to, if he wished. Then Voldemort put his free hand against Harry's cheek and carefully used his thumb to dry his tears and the rest of the fingers on his hand to stroke Harry's temple and jaw.
Harry whimpered once, then sobbed and then Voldemort could feel him slowly give in and begin to relax. It took several minutes where Voldemort continued to stroke his face and hug him tight, but finally Harry went boneless with a sigh and slumped completely against Voldemort.
"That is good, my own, relax now, breathe."
"I'm not used to pain any longer," Harry murmured against his neck.
"That, I believe, is a good thing."
Harry huffed. "Not when it surprises me like this and brings me down without any warning or effort."
Voldemort just hummed in answer. He had at times felt the echo of the pain Harry could feel when the soul shard got agitated, and he knew that that kind of pain should bring everyone to their knees. If they didn't go down, their bodies and minds no longer functioned normally at all. What did it say about Harry that he thought himself weak for no longer being able to stand against that kind of devastating pain?
"I understand you find it frustrating, but it is healthy that it is no longer so, Harry," Voldemort ended up saying. "It means that your body and nervous system is healing, as it should."
He almost went on to say that the problem was that he had to experience that kind of pain at all, but he didn't want to remind Harry of that. It was better to have that conversation when Harry was able to stand on his own feet and not have to stay in Voldemort's arms to keep the pain away. The topic would make Harry feel trapped enough as it was.
Slowly Voldemort looked up and at the room's other occupant, the witch that sat silently watching them from the other side of the sofa. Watching them with one, functioning brown eye and no feelings in her gaze or face. She was completely blank. That was better than the derision or disgust Voldemort almost had expected, because he knew, Harry's friend or not, peace treaty or not, if she had looked at Harry with disgust, or any feeling to indicate that she had turned against him; Voldemort would have put her through a wall. No questions asked.
Harry was his. His. His husband. His equal. His mystery. Even, after last night, his mate. And he had put a lot of work, thought, discussions and even feelings into making it so. Making it so Harry could find support and peace in his embrace, and not hate it and fight it and detest it every single time, for the rest of his life. Harry still got upset, he could still rage and cry and yell, but it didn't happen nearly as often as it had in the first months. And Voldemort would let nothing and no one, even Harry's friend, ruin that.
"You know, I can feel it when you get possessive," Harry hissed and Voldemort looked away from Granger. "You go all rigid and you clutch me like I'm … something precious that you fear someone will try to take from you."
Voldemort noticed that he really was holding Harry close to him with more force than probably was comfortable for Harry.
"Apologies, I did not mean to cause you discomfort. And to me you are precious, I have told you so." He began to loosen his grip only to have Harry shake his head.
"Don't! I wasn't complaining, merely making an observation. And you have no reason to fear, Hermi won't do anything to split us up in any way."
Voldemort settled his arms around Harry again, just a bit less firm than before, and Harry gave a small, content sigh and remained still.
Voldemort looked at Granger again and caught understanding in her eye, more understanding of the situation than she should have.
"You understand Parseltongue," Voldemort stated, in Parseltongue.
Her lips twitched. "Yes, I do," she confirmed without blinking. Like that should be possible for everyone that simply tried to learn the language of snakes.
"How?"
She shrugged, but the smile on her lips wasn't malicious, she simply wasn't going to answer. Then she looked at Harry and Voldemort felt his grip tighten again, almost in a defence. He didn't truly believe that Granger posed a threat, because Harry didn't believe it and he had to trust that Harry knew Granger, but still …
"Harry, you look cold," Granger said. "I was planning to give you a new blanket in a belated Yule present, so I brought it today. Do you want it now?"
Harry moved his face away from Voldemort's neck and Voldemort almost missed the feeling of Harry's breath against his skin, but he didn't say anything.
"I would like that, thank you," Harry said, his voice was low and a bit rasping, but clear enough.
Granger removed a bag from her pocket, enlarged it and removed another bag from the now large bag, and from this bag she removed a knitted blanket. It was made up of several big squares in different dark colours, purple, red, green, yellow, blue and some black. It looked homemade, but also made with some skill. She shook it out and laid it on top of Harry, and consequently also on top of Voldemort.
"Thank you, Hermi, it's beautiful, and so very soft." Harry relaxed a bit more against Voldemort.
Granger smiled. "It was my pleasure." Then she looked at Voldemort. "He doesn't like the cold, no matter how often he runs around in rain and sleet. Don't let him tell you differently."
Harry groaned. "Hermi." Then he coughed something that sounded very much like 'mother hen'.
Granger only grinned. "Then the rest of my gift. I went to Switzerland during Yule, so …" She brought a box up from her bag and enlarged it and let it float carefully on air while she opened it and brought out an enormous cup of blue and gold porcelain, set it on air and then brought out two other cups, one in green and silver and one in dark purple. Every cup was filled to the brim with what Voldemort assumed was hot chocolate. Granger continued to take out a jar filled with what probably was whipped cream and a box of small marshmallows.
"No proper Yule without proper hot chocolate. Cream and a few marshmallows as usual, Harry?"
"Yes, please!"
Voldemort could hear both the smile and the eagerness in his husband's voice.
"And I'm not moving, nor am I going to let Voldemort move, so we need straws."
"Of course." Granger removed a book and a few pieces of parchment from another bag and transfigured them into a small lap table and two straws. She put the green and silver and the blue and gold cup on the lap table, over Harry's and Voldemort's legs, filled the blue cup with cream and a few marshmallows on top, and put a straw in.
"I made it this morning, so the stasis charm has had no chance of going stale," she reassured. "Your preference, Slytherin?" She held up the cream and the marshmallows. When Voldemort didn't answer immediately, not that he would admit to being baffled by it all, she raised an eyebrow.
"Some marshmallows, please," he heard his own voice say.
Granger put marshmallows and a straw into the green and silver cup.
"Where Slytherins are concerned, I always go for green or green and silver. Sorry, not sorry. If it doesn't suit, I can find other colours for your cup later," Granger said.
"I like green. Like most Hogwarts's alumni I have gotten a bit set in my ways. And thank you."
"You are quite welcome," Granger said amiably and put cream and marshmallows in her own purple cup.
Harry had already floated his cup and taken a sip from the straw, so while Voldemort found it a bit demeaning to do so, he followed suit. The hot chocolate was exactly the right temperature, and it was dark and smooth and surprisingly good. He had always preferred tea, but if this was a typical sample of hot chocolate, maybe he should reconsider that. At least on some occasions.
That was, after he had gotten over the shock that Granger had made and brought a cup of hot chocolate to him too, that she had obviously planned to share this with both Harry and himself. Why in the world had she done that? What was she up to?
They drank the hot chocolate in relative silence, only broken by Harry remembering to thank Granger for making and bringing it and by her telling Harry to remind her to give him the two boxes with the chocolate mixture she had used, as that also was a part of his present.
When all the cups were empty, Granger put it all away and shrunk down her bag to put it in her pocket again.
"Now, I believe I need a few answers, don't I?" she asked and looked Harry in the eye.
"How much of the … details … are you comfortable with me telling her?" Harry asked Voldemort.
"Will she be willing to take an Oath of Secrecy, or of Silence?" Voldemort asked, eyeing Granger. He had no idea how she would take the news that her friend was soul bound to Voldemort and right now he was in no position to fight her, either. That thought didn't help, at all. It made him suddenly angry, the thought of her knowing, of her getting to know such a thing, while he could not fight or even move, without causing Harry pain. He couldn't protect his mate without causing him pain.
"Easy," Harry whispered and turned his head to kiss Voldemort's jaw. "Take it easy."
Voldemort forced himself to take several deep breaths and reinforced his mental shields, a bit stunned that he had reacted like that, felt like that. If he had wanted to protect himself, or both of them together, it would have been understandable, but his thoughts had been for Harry, and Harry alone.
"I will be willing to take an Oath of Secrecy, but not Silence, as I want the opportunity to talk with the two of you about this," Granger said, her voice a bit clipped. "Whatever the fuck this is. You are not going to get me out of your life that easily, Potter."
Harry chuckled. "Didn't think so either, Granger."
Granger made the Oath of Secrecy without hesitation, and Voldemort could both see and feel the magic take hold of her.
"Alright," Harry said when she was done. "You won't like this. You won't like this at all, and not for the reasons you right now suspect that you won't like it."
"Spit it out, Harry," Granger said in a low voice.
"You remember Dumbledore's task for us? The mission, the hunt, he sent us on to stop the war?"
Granger nodded once. "Of course. How could I ever forget?"
"I am one, Hermi. I am one of the …" Harry hesitated, and Voldemort could feel Harry's heart thunder in his chest, and he could hear him snapping for breath.
Harry truly wasn't able to set himself and the word Horcrux in the same sentence. For Voldemort, the fact that Harry was his Horcrux made him even more precious, even more treasured, but he had long since stopped trying to make that obvious to Harry, because of just this reaction. For Harry, 'Horcrux' and 'object' were one and the same, and objects could be owned. And it seemed that one of his husband's greatest fears was to be owned, to be thought a thing and to be locked up and given no choice in his own life.
And still he had married Voldemort to end the war and protect the children, while fearing that just that would be his fate.
He was a Gryffindor to the core.
Voldemort hugged Harry close and stroked his face and throat. "Breathe, Harry, just breathe."
Harry nodded jerkily and Voldemort met Granger's eyes. Her one functioning eye was filled with a silent rage, waiting for confirmation to let loose. She held herself stiffly and breathed very carefully in and out while she waited. He didn't know what the confirmation would do, what it would let loose, but he knew Harry wanted to give it to her, to remove every doubt of what he meant, of what he was trying to say.
"Harry is one of my Horcruxes," Voldemort said in a low voice, it was the first time he had ever admitted it to anyone but Harry himself.
Harry whimpered and clutched harder at Voldemort, as if trying to remove any air between them. Voldemort tightened his grip around him because it obviously was what Harry needed right now, even if Voldemort didn't understand how that could be, given that Voldemort was the cause of Harry's distress.
"An accidental Horcrux, made the Samhain night I lost my body. He holds a piece of my soul. It is entwined in his. I didn't know about it, about him, for the longest time. But now there is no mistaking it, and there is no way to change this or remove the soul shard."
There were flames in Granger's dead black eye. He was certain he saw flames before she screwed her eyes shut and grimaced.
"Get up and shield!" Harry said suddenly and harshly. "Hermi, get up! Get up and shield!"
Her lips drew back in a silent snarl.
"Get your arse up and shield!" Harry didn't sound worried, just sharp. "Granger, get up!"
She stood without opening her eyes, took several steps away from the sofa and turned her back on them. Harry sighed in something Voldemort thought was relief when she started moving her wand to cast silent shield charms.
"Shield with everything you have got," Harry said in a low voice and put action to his own words, even though Voldemort knew that even that much space, just removing a hand away from Voldemort to move his wand, hurt him right now.
Harry put shields around the two of them, between Granger and them, and around Granger alone. Silently, he followed suit and he was just about to ask if their collected shields shouldn't be enough now, when Granger went up in flames with a roar that shook the windows in the room and made the sofa they sat on tremble.
He didn't ask, he just continued to make new shields while the old ones broke and crumbled under the flames and the pure magic that flooded out of Granger.
It lasted for several minutes, and he could feel Harry shudder from the pain of not being able to hold on to Voldemort with everything he was. Granger was still screaming in rage and what he could guess was pain, and their shields, hers as well as theirs, continued to be raised and continued to crumble. At least she still had some kind of control over herself, if she still raised shields as well as ripped them down. He wondered when she would come close enough to magical exhaustion to stop. The amount of pure magic she had let loose, in addition to the flames, should already have exhausted her.
Then, and only then, did he remember Harry's inadvertent confession that time he told Voldemort, Astoria and Draco about his expanded magical core. They had gotten a magical boost, not just him. They. He had given it some thought, of course, now and again, but not for several weeks now, and certainly not today, even if he should have. He definitely should have.
In other words, Granger could probably keep going for a long time yet.
The noise and the flames disappeared as abruptly as they had appeared, and Granger drew her hands through her black, curly hair and gave a heavy sigh before turning towards them.
"Now may I kill him?" she asked and looked straight at Harry.
Voldemort stiffened, but Harry's trembling hand on his tightened and he forced himself to sit still. Trusting that Harry knew Granger well enough to assess the danger. If Voldemort's body died, so would Harry. Even if Voldemort managed to make a new body in a few weeks, Harry would be driven to madness and death in the interim, by the very soul shard that helped bind Voldemort to life. And while Granger didn't know that yet, Harry did, and Voldemort didn't think he was suicidal at the moment.
"He is already dead, Hermi," Harry said softly, to Voldemort's confusion. "He has been dead for years."
"I can fix that!" she snarled.
Voldemort's confusion grew. He knew very well how to fix it so someone alive no longer was, but how did she suppose to fix the fact that someone was dead? And who were they talking about?
"No, Hermi, no Necromancy without my say so. You gave me your word."
Ah, so that was how she wanted to go about it. Not really original, now that he thought about it, but most certainly bloodthirsty.
"Harry, just a bit, just enough to smash his ugly soul into his rotting corpse and tear him apart bit by bit for a few years? Please? Just a bit of Necromancy?"
"No, Hermi."
"He sent you out on that bloody hunt knowing full well that you wouldn't succeed without killing yourself!" she suddenly shouted.
"Yes, I know!" Harry said loudly. "You still aren't going to try such a volatile branch of magic without proper teaching and supervision! We promised each other that we would be smarter than that!"
"He wanted you dead!" she shrieked.
"And he is dead. Has been for years! Hermi, he is dead. He is dead. He can't do anything more now. Not to me, nor to anyone else. He is dead and gone."
The witch slumped down on the sofa in defeat. "Bloody Dumbledore. And bloody Necromancy, too." She gave a sigh and laid her head over the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. "I just … I really wanted some answers, you know. Of why he did the things he did, and why he chose those methods, why he chose us to do that task? The whole Chosen One spiel, was that all because of a displaced soul shard? In that case, talk about self-fulfilling prophecies! I just want some closure from the old goat, he owes us that much."
Harry snorted, sounding amused in the face of Granger's obvious misery.
"Nice try, but no cigar. And no Necromancy either."
Granger sat up with a small growl. "You are no fun, Harry, no fun at all!" She took a bag from her pocket, a new one this time, enlarged it and dragged out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. "Either of you want any? I feel this conversation warrants it." She held the bottle up.
"Yes, please," Harry said.
"Thank you," Voldemort said.
"She is good," Voldemort muttered while Granger filled their glasses.
"Oh, the whole woe-is-me-and-I-need-closure talk? Yeah, she is good. Wouldn't recommend playing cards against her. A lot of people have learned that it's a rather bad idea. She just really wants to give Necromancy a go, but I - we actually, she just tends to forget - have read enough to know that while we have messed with worse, we haven't in fact messed with any magic that can be more … devastating. So, I say 'no' and she tries to get around it twice a year or so."
"Interesting."
"If you say so." Harry lifted the glass Granger had filled for him with a wandless and non-verbal levitation spell, brought it carefully to his mouth and took a sip.
A/N:
Thank you so much for the comments, the favs and the follows! They are much appreciated! I love to read what you think about the story and the characters! It makes writing this story even more fun! Each and every comment makes me smile!
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