Harry spent the rest of the day finding things to occupy her because if she wasn't doing something, she was remembering the wonderful feelings the vile man she calls husband elicited from her.

He was gone again for several days. She couldn't sleep properly in the Manor at all, so she learned that some days he simply left early before breakfast and returned way past midnight.

It made Harry wonder where he went. Was he spending the whole day at someone else's house and only returning here to sleep? Or did he work eighteen hours a day?

It was some consolation to know he probably wasn't cheating. Because even if she didn't have feelings for him, they were a couple now and what was worse than offering yourself up to marry the darkest wizard of the century, was to be disrespected within that marriage. Also, he vowed to be faithful and Harry was certain he wasn't keen on breaking his vows just yet.

Whatever the actual reason for his constant absence was, Harry couldn't help but continuously come to the conclusion that it had to do with her invading the house that once only belonged to him.

Voldemort came home in the middle of the day, resulting in Harry walking around the Manor to find him.

In a dark corridor she usually avoided, there was a single door open ajar with a flickering light inside. Her feet carried her inside and she opened the door wider to announce her presence, unsure if he wanted her in what looked to be his study. He was rummaging through the drawers on his giant desk.

"What is it, Harry?" he asked, without looking up from his search.

Harry stepped inside and clasped her hands in front of her. She always tried to start conversations with him civilly, and in the end it was always him who remained civil and calm, while she'd be fuming.

"Halloween is in four days," she stated, wringing her hands together.

"Good, you can read a calendar."

Ignoring his jibe, she continued, "I always celebrate with my friends. The Weasleys are holding a party."

He pulled out a scroll and quickly skimmed it before rolling it back up and walking out.

"No," he said, as he brushed past her. And he probably sensed that this conversation was going to turn as volcanic as their past ones have, because he Disapparated as soon as he was out the door.

For the first time since the wedding, Harry actually wished they were like a regular couple who cared about each other. At least in that scenario she'd have some leverage.

When Mrs. Weasley was cross with Mr. Weasley, she gave him the cold shoulder and the treatment was so unbearable to him that he couldn't not rectify his mistakes. And being the woman who ran his house and provided him with food and clean clothes, he couldn't stay on her bad side for too long even if he tried. She almost always got her way with him.

But Harry had nothing on Voldemort. Their relationship was frostier than an ice castle. And since the requirement to consummate the marriage has been met, he hardly even looked at her anymore. She couldn't even punish him by cooking something he hated because she didn't do the cooking in the house. The house elves took care of everything.

All Harry had to offer him she already did in signing their agreement.

Happy wife, happy life clearly did not work for them.

Harry was flying around the grounds when he returned for dinner but she didn't stop until she wanted to stop.

The house elves were taking the prepared food to the dining hall when she trudged inside and headed to her room for a shower—which she took her sweet time doing.

In protest, she was going to dress up in her old clothes rather than the fancy ones in her closet. It was the only thing she could do that she knew he disliked.

Harry tried to get Hilsey to bring her food to her room, but apparently she was under orders to not serve Harry food away from the dining hall.

Heaving a sigh, Harry headed downstairs in her Muggle jeans and oversized crew neck.

Voldemort had finished eating. All that was in front of him was a half-eaten pie and a cup of tea. He eyed Harry critically as she walked over to her seat and piled her plate with roast beef and potatoes.

"Can I help you?" she asked rudely, when he wouldn't stop staring.

"No," he answered casually, turning his attention to the Evening Prophet. Harry rolled her eyes. If it weren't for the newspaper, their meals would be ten times more awkward.

Eating as fast as she could without choking, Harry cleared her plate and skipped the dessert.

"Where are you going?" he asked her monotonously as she stood to leave.

"To my room," Harry answered.

"I need to talk to you. Come."

He led the way out of the dining hall and to one of the drawing rooms. There were two: one that was for common use and always open, and the other that was always locked. He unlocked the second one.

He was going to ask her for a favour, she knew it. He needed her for something. Why else would he seek her out? And he didn't even make a comment about her outfit.

What could it be? A ball he had to attend? Harry was going to love saying no to him just like he had to her.

Voldemort tapped his wand on the door handle and both doors opened for them. This drawing room was dark and eerie. A chill went through Harry, making the hairs on her skin rise.

Behind her, the door closed. Harry looked at him suspiciously as she walked past him to examine the room. The furniture looked a little dusty from how old and disused they were. The windows could do with some washing. There was the distinct smell of old books in here, too.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, finally turning to him. He had been assessing her reaction closely.

Stepping closer so he was a foot away, he pinned her with a hard look and said, "What does Dumbledore know about me?"

"What?" Harry was startled with the question. He was asking about Dumbledore now? She would have thought he'd want to know earlier.

"What," he muttered angrily, "does Dumbledore—know—about—me."

He was not in a good mood and this wasn't the time to test his patience, even Harry could tell.

"I-I don't know what you want me to say—he knows a lot about you. More than any of us did."

"What sort of things has he shared with you about me?" he pressed. "How does he intend to take me down?"

Nervously, Harry gulped. Would she be considered a traitor, sharing Order secrets? Or would she be considered a traitor keeping secrets from her husband?

"It would be traitorous of you to conspire against me," Voldemort confirmed. Harry averted her gaze so he'd stop looking into her mind. "You're loyal to me now, whether you want to be or not."

Was it morally right to be on her husband's side and answer his simple question, or to keep information from him because he was a dark wizard?

Harry didn't know. She didn't know which would make a better person and which worse.

What she did know was that not complying with Voldemort would yield bad results for her, and sharing what she knew was probably not enough to do any significant damage either. Not with the terms they set out upon agreeing to this union.

"Erm, I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"Tell me," he growled, advancing on her.

"I-I don't!" she exclaimed, extremely flustered. "A lot of things were kept secret from us in the Order because we were young."

"What did Dumbledore tell you specifically? If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. I have better methods of getting information out of you, wife or not."

"You can't harm me," Harry said right away, immediately picturing herself being hung in a dungeon cell and tortured.

"It won't harm you."

His red eyes pierced hers and she looked away again. No, it was better she speaks than he sees too much of her memories.

"After the prophecy… he basically confirmed that it would have to be me against you in the end. Said it was the only way you would die… if-if I killed you," she said. He waited for her to continue. His proximity was making her more nervous but she assumed that's why he did it.

"Go on."

"It was kind of up to me to decide when and how I was going to do it, I guess?"

"Tell me more about Dumbledore."

"He would go off on his own a few times. On missions that none of us were allowed to know about," Harry stressed. "I assume they had to do with you but I don't know what he did."

"He's never told you about my past?" This surprised him.

"Not much… A little… Okay, yes, he did," she admitted. "He showed me memories he collected of people who knew you, or his own."

"What sort of memories?" Voldemort's expression darkened.

"Erm, of you… in the orphanage. Of your family… Your mother when she was pregnant with you." Each word she spoke made him angrier.

"Why would he care to show you those?"

"I don't know. We never picked those meetings up again after Hermione's incident. I felt too guilty to be the saviour he wanted me to be and I guess he finally realized that we were all child soldiers of his."

"What else? What did he say about us?"

"About the marriage? He was against it—"

"I know that, I meant about us from before there was any talk of marriage."

Harry licked her lips. "There was one time in second year, after I came out of the Chamber and gave him your diary. I asked why I could speak Parseltongue and he said that it was likely because you unintentionally transferred some of your powers to me that night you tried to kill me. Aside from that, he would point out similarities between you and me, but emphasize that we were nothing alike."

Voldemort sighed lightly, his eyes alight with smugness. Apparently Harry gave him the answer he was looking for and she didn't like it.

"What?" Harry asked.

"He wants you dead," Voldemort with the corner of his lip tugging upwards in amusement.

"Dumbledore?!" Harry jerked her head backwards. "You're delusional. Dumbledore does not want me dead, why would he ever want me—"

"I am right about this, I know it," Voldemort continued, smugly. "It's why he was so against the marriage and hoping one of us will disagree."

Harry was not following. "Well, then he didn't get what he wanted anyway and we did. So what's the harm?"

He looked down at her like she was a naive, foolish child. "Sweetheart, it's Dumbledore. He's going to pretend like everything is alright while he silently manipulates you until you break this marriage and we're at each other's throats again. That is what he wants."

"Dumbledore is the one who wanted this war to end, sweetheart," she tossed back rudely. "You are the one who likes to cause chaos! He wants peace and that's what we have right now."

"He wants me dead and he's willing to sacrifice one of his soldiers to achieve that," Voldemort argued, poking her shoulder with his finger to make it clear which soldier he was talking about (in case it already wasn't).

"You're crazy!" Harry shouted.

"Am I?" he raised his eyebrows, now amused at her denial. "Tell me why he favours you so much. Your parents? There are other kids whose parents he was closer with. Your tragic background? Again, there were other kids who also lost their parents in the war. You were not the brightest in school, in fact your Mudblood was and he treated her the same as all the others, didn't he? Nor did you have any significant connections he may want to keep close—"

"If you're trying to say it's because I'm prophesized to kill you, then don't bother. I already know that's why I was being trained by him!"

"And why did that training stop?"

"I told you—because Hermione got hit with a curse so bad she can't mentally function anymore! He didn't want to risk the rest of us ending up the same way!"

"So he goes off to do all the work in taking me down on his own. Until he needs you to step in and throw the final blow that'll kill me."

"Yes!" Harry agreed. "Until I step in to kill you. Why would he want me dead then?"

He smiled wickedly at her, and raised a hand tuck a few strands of hair behind her ears, cupping her cheek. "There's more about me that you don't know. And I'm certain Dumbledore does."

"You're lying," Harry spat, slapping his hand away.

"I can prove it to you."

"Okay, prove it," she challenged.

He walked towards one of the old cabinets in the corner and performed a series of spells that included tapping the cabinet in a specific pattern. When it finally creaked open, he pulled out a medium-sized velvet box and brought it over to her.

Opening the box, he revealed a golden necklace with an intricate 'S' in green gemstones. Harry gasped. She recognized this locket, she saw Merope Gaunt wearing it in one of the memories.

"This is Slytherin's locket," Harry said, looking up at him in confusion. There was no way he was offering her Slytherin's locket.

"Indeed it is," he smiled. Voldemort took the locket out and tossed the box aside. "You're going to go to that Halloween celebration you wanted to," he said. Harry's heart soared in cautious elation. "You're going to wear this locket and you're going to report back to me your findings."

"What? What findings?" the idea of being on a mission of some sort for him made her uneasy. She was not going to turn against her friends and spy on them for him!

"I only need you to do one simple thing," he explained. "Wear this and try to keep it hidden. You don't want them to notice you have it. But Dumbledore will. And, if he asks you about it, if he tries to take it, if he shows interest in it whatsoever, you tell me when you get back."

He clasped the necklace behind her neck and gently pulled her hair out, pushing the strands over her shoulders. The locket was visible against her pale skin. He ran his fingers down her chest and ghosted over the locket, trailing warmth behind his touch. Harry's heart fluttered at his soft and gentle touch, whether it was because he was touching her or the locket, she wasn't sure. Probably the locket, it seemed more important to him than she ever would.

"This locket will also protect you," he said quietly, almost whispering. "You may stay the night if you wish, but I want you back for dinner the next day at the latest. I don't imagine I need to stress how important it is that you keep this locket on at all times and come back to me safely."

"Thank you," Harry said softly, looking up at him. She was so happy she didn't even mind him touching her. Though that probably had more to do with her acknowledging the secret desire she had to be close to him than the fact that he was finally letting her leave the house.

His hand dropped and he took a step back from her, all warmth evaporating and being instantly replaced with the usual coldness. Harry wished he wouldn't be so on guard at all times.

"But how exactly does this prove anything?" she asked, holding the locket up closer to her face.

"I won't tell you more until you've mastered Occlumency. I can't have you knowing my darkest secrets when you're about to see Dumbledore," he reasoned.

"I've been taught Occlumency," she shared.

He laughed at that. "By who? A ghoul? Because I've been reading you like an open book all this time," he said, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her close to him.

Harry gasped, staring up at him in shock. His touch sent tingles and warmth through her in a way she was beginning to get addicted to. But wait, he's been able to read her this whole time? That means—

She shoved him and angrily strode out of the room, her face burning up in embarrassment while he laughed at her.

Harry was bouncing around in excitement at the thought of seeing her friends again. The days until Halloween couldn't pass by sooner.

And when it finally did, on the morning of the 31st, Harry was dressed and all packed for the night. She had breakfast in the dining hall with Voldemort, which was as quiet as it usually was and then she was on her way out.

At the front doors, before she could walk out, Voldemort grabbed her elbow and held her back.

"What?" Harry asked, fearful that he changed his mind last minute.

"Remember what I told you," he said. "Dumbledore is going to care about the locket, but try not to flaunt it. Report everything back to me. Do this and I'll consider letting you visit them again for Christmas."

Her eyes widened at that. This was certainly a deal she'd like to strike.

"You got it," she nodded, agreeing.

"The others are no match for us, but I don't like the idea of you near Dumbledore," he said quietly. He rested his fingers over the locket again, over her heart. "Don't take this off no matter what."

"Okay," Harry said softly. She didn't have a problem with the locket. It really was enchanted with protection, she felt warm and secure just wearing it.

"Harry?! Merlin's beard, it's Harry! Everyone come, Harry's here!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the garden as Harry trotted up to the Burrow with a wide smile on her face.

She picked up her pace until she was jogging to hug Mrs. Weasley, who had her arms open. Barely twenty feet away and the grass in front of her blew up.

Harry jumped back, looking up to see Mr. Weasley standing protectively in front of his family and wife with his wand pointed at her.

Startled, Harry looked around, wondering what she did wrong.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

"Harry, hang on a second before you come closer," Mr. Weasley said in a clear voice.

"Mr. Weasley, it's me… the wards wouldn't have let me in if—"

His children looked worried and upset with him, but Mr. Weasley was firm as he spoke.

"Tell me something only Harry Potter would know."

Harry wanted to point out that even if she was an imposter, she wouldn't have to answer that question truthfully because technically Harry Potter didn't exist anymore.

Questioning each other was normal practise for the Order because they could never be too safe. But Harry forgot and hadn't expected to be treated like a potential Death Eater.

"At the Quidditch World Cup you lost your money bag when we wanted to buy from the Arab street vendor and I offered to pay for the food but you said no and gave him fake leprechaun gold and said 'he won't realize for a few hours'."

Mrs. Weasley pinned her husband with the darkest death glare she could muster, making him visibly sweat.

"It's Harry," he said quietly, lowering his wand. Ron and Ginny tore across the field to engulf her in a hug.

"We're going to talk about this later," Mrs. Weasley told her husband, before turning to Harry and happily welcoming her back to the Burrow.

"We didn't know you were coming!" Ginny exclaimed, linking their arms and walking her inside. Fleur squealed and threw her arms around Harry too. Bill, Percy, Fred, George, they were all excited to see her.

Hermione was unresponsive as always, but Harry was so relieved to see her friend again. In fact all of them. She had been driven insane the past two months and really thought she may never see her friends again.

"How are you, Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, brushing back her hair for the third time. Her eyes ran across her face and neck, the only visible parts of her skin, looking for any signs of damage. She skimmed over the locket she tucked into her shirt, not making any note of it.

"I'm doing well, Mrs. Weasley," Harry smiled back warmly. Looking around at all the people crowded around her in the tiny living room, Harry had never felt so suffocated.

"What's it like?" Ginny asked quietly. "Living with him?"

"Ginny!" her mother hissed, but she too was curious. The boys all sat up straighter.

"It's alright," Harry said to Mrs. Weasley. It was expected to talk about what marriage to Lord Voldemort was like, she already knew this and was alright with speaking. There wasn't much to talk about. "It's pretty… quiet."

"Quiet?" Ron repeated. "Living with You-Know-Who is quiet?"

Harry shrugged. "We don't say much. When we do it usually ends in an argument. He's away a lot and when he's not we generally avoid each other."

"So you're just coexisting?" Ginny asked.

"Basically, yeah," Harry agreed.

"What does he do all day?" Fred questioned, prepared to make mental notes, but he was going to be disappointed.

"Couldn't tell you, because I have no idea. I only sometimes see him at breakfast, less so at dinner. Sometimes he's gone for the whole day. I don't know where he goes."

"But you're safe?" Fleur asked quietly.

"Very," Harry reassured them. "He doesn't do anything to scare me or try to hurt me. It's a little easier than I expected."

The conversation was dropped after that. Mr. Weasley had owled Remus as soon as Harry arrived so he was at their doorstep within fifteen minutes. He, too, engulfed her in a hug and searched for any signs of damage. Harry wanted to point out that if she did get hurt, Voldemort would obviously have concealed it before sending her off, but she didn't.

The rest of the celebration breezed by wonderfully. Harry blended in with the crowd easily. She could now enjoy herself more in the presence of others with the looming responsibility of killing Voldemort that had been over her head before.

For a while it was as if Harry had never left. She slept in her room upstairs with Hermione and woke up later than usual but with a smile on her face.

"Morning," Ginny whispered, tiptoeing into their room.

"Morning," Harry repeated.

"Just coming in to get Hermione freshened for the day." Ginny coaxed Hermione to wake up but she wouldn't, so she allowed her some extra sleep. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Harry said honestly, still under her duvet.

"No, I mean seriously."

Sighing, Harry pushed the duvet down. "Ginny, I'm okay, you don't need to worry about me."

"I can't help it! He's a murderer and he's evil and you have to get up everyday and play house with him."

"Well, he's making it easier than I expected, so I'd rather not complain."

"Did you guys… did you have to… "

"Consummate the marriage?" Harry finished. Ginny nodded, waiting anxiously for the answer. "Yes, we had to."

"Oh my God."

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of—Harry! You slept with him! You slept with You-Know-Who!"

"Well he is my husband! Besides, we kind of didn't have a choice. The bond required us to do it."

Ginny was looking at her like she was a poor soul, forever lost and like her life was over.

Harry sighed and stood up. "It was going to happen eventually, it's not that big of a deal," she insisted, mumbling. Ginny stopped her just as she went to open the door and leave the room.

"Wait! Erm… How was it?"

Harry reluctantly turned back to her, wondering just how she was meant to say she liked it.

"It was alright."

"Did he hurt you?" Ginny asked right away.

"No, I was completely fine the whole time."

"He didn't push you or make you—"

"No," she repeated. "It just… happened. It was over pretty quick."

"And you're sure you're alright with it?"

Now Harry felt bad for not being truthful. Ginny was likely going to tell her mother and somehow everyone else would find out and she didn't want them to worry about her.

"I'm… better than alright with it, actually," Harry admitted quietly, surprising Ginny. "He's nicer to me than I expected. I thought I'd be put in a comfy dungeon cell and imprisoned forever. But I have my own room. It's big. He doesn't make me sleep with him. He doesn't make me do anything actually. Except dress up like a proper lady. And though I regret my first time being with a cold and heartless monster like him, it was actually really good."

"Huh," Ginny said quietly, crossing her legs and peering at Harry curiously. "Well, that's amazing, Harry!"

Harry cracked a small grin.

"I can't say I'm not surprised," Ginny added, "But I'm very happy and relieved that you're okay. The first week after you were gone, Mum and I could barely sleep. We thought he might be putting you up to horrific things."

"I did too," Harry told her. "But he's too busy to do any of that. And it genuinely feels like he has no problem with me now that I'm not meant to kill him."

"What sort of things do you two talk about?" Ginny asked, coaxing Hermione awake again.

"We don't really unless it's necessary," Harry explained.

Mrs. Weasley called everyone for breakfast. After they got Hermione awake, Ginny walked her to the bathroom while Harry headed downstairs to help with breakfast. She was looking forward to preparing food again, there was absolutely none of that allowed at the Manor with the house elves.

"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry smiled.

"And a good morning to you too, Harry," Mrs. Weasley replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Would you like some help?"

"I would love it, but I think there's someone here to see you," she motioned to the living room. Harry's heart dropped, for a startling second she thought Voldemort had arrived to take her home early.

Heading into the living room, Harry was relieved to see it was only Dumbledore and Kingsley.

"Professor," Harry greeted politely. "Kingsley."

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore stood and beamed down at her. "So lovely to see you again."

"You as well," she replied, sitting on one of the empty couches. Subtly looking down, Harry ensured that her locket was out of view.

"How are you, Harry?" he asked more seriously. Harry felt like she was having the same conversation for the third time, as she reassured them both that she was alright and completely safe with Voldemort and he was not making her miserable.

When asked how happy she was, Harry didn't automatically state that she wasn't. She should have told him about how alone she is for so long and how she thinks its taking a toll on her. How he hates letting her out because he sees Dumbledore as a threat to her.

And that was exactly why.

She had always trusted Dumbledore but ever since Voldemort instilled the thought into her that he had ulterior motives that ended with her dying in order to kill him, that trust began to waver.

The conversation shifted to potting plants, of all things. That was one of the nice things about Dumbledore, he sensed when the topic needed to be changed and did so with a positive attitude.

They were so close to the end of the meeting and Harry was so certain that Voldemort was wrong about her old professor that she was willing to let him look into these memories just to prove that Dumbledore didn't care about the locket.

But as she was talking to Kingsley and then turned her attention back to Dumbledore, she saw his eyes snap up from her neck to meet her gaze.

Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't say anything.

"Forgive me for inquiring, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly during a lag in the conversation, "Is that a necklace you're wearing? It seems lovely, I didn't peg you one for jewelry."

Harry's heart dropped.

Who knows how many times his eyes darted around her appearance to look for any clue that something was different. And he finally found it.

It's okay, he might not care about what it is.

"Yes, it is," Harry commented, running her fingers down the chain and hesitated to pull it out.

"Voldemort gave it to you?" Kingsley asked, suddenly alert as if it were some dark object. It rubbed Harry the wrong way. Nearly everything she owned now came from Voldemort. Even herself—she came from his house. Does that make her Dark too?

"Yes," Harry answered. "I've noticed he has a taste for the finer things money can buy."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "I noticed that too when I knew him."

It was silent for a moment as both men waited, almost as if they were expecting Harry to hand over the locket because it came from Voldemort.

"May we see it?" Dumbledore asked.

Hesitantly, Harry pulled the locket out from under her shirt to expose the design. Her eyes flicked up to gauge Dumbledore's reaction.

Almost instantly, his expression turned blank.

"It's an 'S'," Kingsley commented, turning to Dumbledore. "What could that mean?"

"I believe," Dumbledore said slowly, "That locket may have once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. Right, Harry?"

"Yes," she confirmed. They both already knew what it was, having seen it in a memory a long time ago in his office. Dumbledore never explained what was so significant about the locket and now it was too late because Voldemort already instilled doubts in her.

"Why did he give this to you?" Dumbledore inquired politely.

Because he was her husband and he could?

To test you to see if you knew this super dark secret of his and wanted to kill her?

"He said it would protect me," she explained. "He's kind of paranoid that me leaving the Manor is unsafe."

The men shared a look that reminded her of the way she reacted to Voldemort's allegations, too. Harry had always been safe with these people and he had always been the enemy, now Voldemort was acting like Dumbledore was the enemy?

But she didn't know what to believe now because Voldemort said if Dumbledore showed any interest in the locket at all, it meant he was right about him. And interest was clearly shown.

"Why would he think coming here is unsafe for you?" Kingsley questioned, a little offended that they were now being painted as the bad guys.

"He's paranoid," Harry said dismissively. "Believe me, the irony doesn't escape me either, but he was insistent."

Tucking the locket back under shirt, Harry started to think of a way to excuse herself.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "Do you remember when we saw this locket in those memories?"

"Yeah," Harry said casually. "His mother pawned it off for ten galleons, not knowing what it was worth."

"Exactly. Now… I have reason to believe it maybe a dark object—"

"Why?" Harry asked immediately. "It was his mother's. She was hardly skilled enough to bewitch it or anything."

"That may be true, but it's been in Voldemort's possession for years now."

"So?"

"He wouldn't hang on to a priceless artifact like that without doing something to it."

"I see," Harry said quietly. She knew something was done to it, she could feel the magic radiating off of it. It was protecting her. It was keeping her safe and secure and warm.

"I think, for your safety, I should have a closer look at it. I will get it back to you as quickly as I can and if—"

"Professor, I can't give it to you. I have to go back home tonight. If he sees I don't have it—"

"We'll make a replica and you can wear that one," Kingsley suggested.

"That won't work!" Harry argued. "Professor, you said so yourself: he has a taste for finer things and this is a priceless artifact of his ancestor—he's going to check immediately if I still have it. And he's going to notice if it's a copy."

"You're right," Dumbledore agreed. "When do you have to leave by tonight?"

"I have to be home for dinner, but—"

"It's only nine in the morning," he stated, checking his pocket watch, "I can take it for examination right now and have it back to you before you leave."

"No," Harry said quietly, making both men look up at her in surprise.

"No?"

"No, I'm not giving it to you. I'm not taking it off. I'm sorry, Professor, but I won't."

Dumbledore had a slightly panicked and grave look on his face.

"Harry, I don't think you understand how potentially dangerous this locket may be."

"I'm sure it's oozing with Dark magic," Harry quipped. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm the one who has to go back into that house to a man who can read me as easily as any book and be forced to lie to him about what I did. What do you think is going to happen to me once he finds out I let you, of all people, hold this locket? It's already taken me a lot of convincing to be able to come here today, I don't want to be shut up in the house for the rest of my life!"

"You're right, I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I didn't realize just how much I was asking of you."

Breathing heavily and struggling to calm down, Harry nodded. "It's fine."

"Can you at least tell me one thing?" he asked gently.

"What is it?" Harry frowned.

"Does he own other priceless objects like this one? One that may have belonged to a Founder or perhaps been special to him—like that diary of his?"

Harry didn't know what the hell he was asking about, but she had a terrible feeling that he had just shown a lot more interest than Voldemort was expecting.

"Well?" Voldemort asked arrogantly at the front doors when Harry returned.

The disappointment written clear across her face was enough of an answer as she pushed past him to enter the house. Her bag was immediately taken upstairs by a house elf while another urged her to the dining hall for dinner.

"I can see that I was right," Voldemort added smugly, following her to the dining hall, "but I'm going to need you to tell me what happened in detail."

Harry dropped into her chair and her dinner appeared on her plate. She picked up her fork and knife, ready to cut into the chicken but it seemed as though her utensils were glued to the table.

Sighing, she turned her attention to Voldemort.

"I don't like being ignored," he said in a dangerous whisper.

"He saw it," she said. "He showed quite a lot of interest."

Voldemort's eyebrows shot up.

"Tell me everything," he demanded.

Rubbing her forehead, Harry recalled the memory and started explaining, "He noticed the chain and remembered I never wore jewelry before so he inquired about it. I pulled it out and he kind of froze. He asked why you would give it to me and I told him you said it was for protection. They thought that was a little absurd. And then Dumbledore said he thinks it might be cursed because it's a priceless artifact from your ancestor and its been in your possession for so many years that there's no way it isn't. They wanted me to wear a duplicate while they have this one checked but I said you would never mistake a fake for the real one and then Dumbledore tried to convince me to let him have it for the day until I have to go back but I refused."

Voldemort's lips were pressed together in annoyance. She was only happy the anger wasn't aimed at her for once.

"What else?" he muttered.

"He…" Harry said started out unsurely. She picked up her fork to see she was able to use it now and started to cut her chicken. "He asked me if you had… other artifacts like this." Voldemort's red eyes snapped up to hers instantly. "Or something else that would be special to you like your diary was."

His fist slammed down on the table in anger, making Harry jump.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"He knows," Voldemort growled. His chair pushed back several feet as he stood and stalked out of the room, leaving Harry alone.

Breakfast the next morning was as awkward as ever. Voldemort was still pissed off but significantly less so than last night.

"Oh," Harry spoke, ten minutes into their quiet eating. Her hand came up to her neck, "Erm, do you want this back?"

"Don't take that off," he snapped. "Never take that off."

Harry gulped and nodded.

"Okay," she said.

Another fifteen minutes passed before she spoke up again.

"So will I ever get to know what this locket means? And why, according to you, Dumbledore wants to kill me for it?"

Voldemort sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.

"He doesn't want to kill you for the locket. He wants to kill you to kill me."

Harry nodded slowly, waiting for him to elaborate but he didn't.

"See, I'm really trying to follow your logic here," she said, "but I feel like there's too many pieces missing."

"Do you know what a Horcrux is?"

"No," Harry frowned.

"It's a container for storing your soul. Usually an inanimate object."

"Why would you want to store your soul in an inanimate object?" Harry scowled. "Your body does it just fine."

"Bodies can be injured or killed. Your soul leaves it and moves on to the afterlife. However, if you store a piece of your soul in an inanimate object—"

"Then you still linger in this world, you don't move on to the afterlife," Harry finished his thought, her eyes wide. "That's why you didn't die when your curse rebounded."

"Exactly."

"That's how you live so long and look so young?" Harry gaped.

"I've achieved immortality, yes," he said smugly.

Harry's head started spinning. Immortality was not the word she had been thinking of and now she can't stop reeling in the implications.

"You're immortal," Harry stated. "There's magic that can make you immortal?"

"If you have the power and drive, you can achieve anything with magic," Voldemort said.

"But… I—how was I meant to kill you then? All this time I've been feeling like it's my fault you're not dead but really that's because you're immortal?!"

And it's sounding like Dumbledore knew, yet chose to let her believe she had the power to end him.

"Why isn't this more common then?" Harry wondered. "I mean, believe me, living for eternity has no appeal to me, but I imagine there are more people who wouldn't want to die. Oh my God, does Dumbledore have a Horcrux? Is that why he's—"

"Not everyone has the skill or stomach for it," Voldemort clipped. "And no, Dumbledore would never make a Horcrux. He's too weak to do so."

"How were you able to do it then?"

This was the wrong thing to say.

He leaned in closer and snarled, "I'm more powerful than Dumbledore could ever hope to be."

"Alright," Harry agreed, frowning. "So it's hard to do."

"It's not hard to do—it involves a ritual with a human sacrifice and you have to have the strength to tolerate unbearable agony. That coupled with the very complex magic that even a slight misstep in could result in failure makes it close to impossible to achieve. That's why not everyone can do it. You have to understand magic on a superior level to tear your soul apart and safely contain it in an object."

If he thought he was impressing Harry, he was not. "I think anyone who understands magic enough would know not to mess with forces of nature in this way."

"You're just like everyone else," he muttered in disappointment. "Too weak and too scared to attempt magic in this form."

"So you split your soul," Harry confirmed, her gut wrenching in disgust and horror. If this man was unkillable… what the hell was going to happen to the world once Harry dies?

"Yes. My first Horcrux was my diary."

"But the diary is destroyed, I destroyed it way before you came back with this body, how could—wait, your first? You have more than one?!"

"I had seven."

"Seven?!"

"Seven is the most magically powerful number. It would make me the strongest."

"You split your soul apart seven times and you… how are you still standing? How is your magic still so powerful?!"

Harry could only imagine how much stronger he was with his whole soul intact.

"This locket is a Horcrux, isn't it?" Harry gasped, before he could respond. She looked down at the locket in horror. There was a piece of Voldemort's evil soul trapped inside the locket and she had been wearing it this whole time feeling safe and secure.

"Yes. No one knows about my Horcruxes. If anyone were to figure out I have them, the first would be Dumbledore," Voldemort said. He had a far off look on his face while he tapped his fingertips on the table absentmindedly. "But I still had the advantage because there was no way for him to know what they were or where. It seems I underestimated him… He's had a lot of time to himself to think while I was gone." Suddenly he turned to Harry, reaching his hand to grasp hers. "But now I have the advantage with you at my side."

"I-I don't understand…" Harry gulped, carefully pulling her hand out from under his.

"You destroyed the diary and gave it to Dumbledore saying it had the memory of Tom Riddle preserved in it," Voldemort explained. Harry nodded. "I suspect he knew from that moment that it was a Horcrux. And in the years since, he's tried to figure out what other ones I have, because he's had confirmation that I made at least two by that point. When he was showing you those memories of my life, of the locket and my mother, I suspect he was training you to identify the objects so you may destroy them. It would be the only way to kill me: to destroy all the Horcruxes."

Harry was getting increasingly nervous.

"That's what you think Dumbledore was off doing on his missions?" she asked quietly. "Finding your Horcruxes to destroy them?"

"Yes. Getting everything ready so that at the final battle you deliver the curse that kills me."

"Why didn't he just tell us that?" Harry asked. "I would have gone with him to look—"

Voldemort pinned her with a hard look.

"What? You weren't my husband then, you were still the man who wanted to kill me—"

"I didn't want to kill you."

"Okay, whatever," she huffed. "I only meant that apparently since there's so many similarities between us that I might be the best shot he had to identify…" she trailed off, another thought occurring to her. "What did you mean that Dumbledore knew of at least two Horcruxes when I gave him the diary?"

Here, Voldemort's hard expression dropped to adopt a more nonchalant one.

Tracing circles with his pointer finger on the table, he asked, "Do you remember what Dumbledore said to you that day? When you asked why you could speak Parseltongue?"

Feeling dread pool in her gut, she whispered, "That you may have unintentionally transferred some of your powers to me."

Calmly, his eyes met hers, waiting for her to make the connection.

"It was certainly unintentional," he confirmed.

"No," Harry said, her heart dropping. "No…"

"Yes."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?!" Harry yelled, standing up.

"You were my last and my only unintentional Horcrux."

Her blood froze. She didn't want to believe it, but it made sense because what else could explain how closely they were connected? Parseltongue was a language that couldn't be taught, you had to be born with the skill and it was only genetic. Neither of her parents had the skill so how else could she obtain it? How else could she sense some of his stronger emotions, see him in her dreams? Everything about this connection was starting to make sense and she didn't want to believe it.

"B-but I thought it had to be an inanimate object."

"Typically they are. I liked to push the boundaries of magic."

"Oh, fuck you! What the hell is wrong with you?!" she yelled. Her wand was out in a second, firing spell after spell at him, but they barely touched him.

"Harry, calm down, you're overreacting," he stood from his seat and advanced on her.

"No! Stay the fuck away from me, you monster! I can't believe you did this—take it out, take it out!" Harry screamed.

Her wand flew out of her hand and he held her wrists in a death grip. His eyes were fiery and wild.

"I told you, I didn't do it intentionally," he growled. "I would never even put my soul in a human being—you think I wanted to share my powers with anyone? No!" He shook her with the intensity of her words, making Harry whimper. "Believe me, if there was any way to reverse it, I would have done it. But the only way to take a Horcrux out is to destroy the container," he emphasized.

"That's why Dumbledore wanted to kill me?" she whispered, understanding everything now.

"He was going to use you to help him find my Horcruxes because by being one you could identify them. He was going to keep you close and then when all the others were destroyed he'd send you to be killed by me. Either must die at the hand of the other, I would have had to be the one to kill you to destroy the Horcrux inside and only then could I finally be killed. We would have gone together, it's the only way to take me down."

He released her and Harry dropped to the ground, sobbing into her hands. Her whole world had just tipped on its axis. It was that mixed with the frustrations of the last few months that made her cry harder than she ever had.

Everything in her life was flipped.

The person she trusted with her whole being had ultimately been plotting for her to die in order to get the darkest wizard of their time. Could she even blame him? It was one fucked up life for thousands. She would make the same bargain, in fact, hadn't she already?

Harry always put everyone else before herself, she already had very little regard for the value of her life. And the person who had constantly assured her that she was going to be great, that she was important, was sugarcoating her death to her.

And on the other hand, the one who put her in this position in the first place was the one trying to keep her alive and protected.

Nothing made sense anymore, and she was done.

Harry stayed curled up on the cold marble floor for hours, crying her voice hoarse, until the house elves coaxed her up and walked her to her bedroom. Hilsey ran a relaxing bath for her and pushed her to the bathroom to force her to take it.

Harry sat in the tub, naked with nothing on her except the locket she was told not to take off.

Even knowing what she was, even knowing what it was, she couldn't stand to take it off. She should rip it off her neck and toss it aside. But she couldn't. Because it was a very valuable item and its worth truly was priceless to Voldemort if it contained his soul in it.

It was as important to him as she was and yet he still trusted her with it.

Don't get her wrong, she hated him with every fiber of her being, but she hated him a little less than she hated Dumbledore right now.

Dumbledore, who was supposed to protect her family and didn't. Dumbledore, who was in possession of her father's Invisibility Cloak the night they were killed. Dumbledore, who let her live with the Dursley's and go back to them every summer knowing how unhappy and malnourished and abused she was there.

Did he only leave her there because he knew it would make her more desperate to be agreeable to what he said? To lower the quality of her life so much so that whatever fucked up situation he put her in next would seem better?

If he was so powerful and all-knowing, he must have known about Sirius. Did he know Sirius was innocent? Did he let him rot in Azkaban anyway just so Harry wouldn't grow up with him? And forcing her godfather to be shut up in his abusive childhood home that he ran away from under the illusion that he was "helping" the Order, that must have been a part of his plan to keep the two of them apart.

What about Remus? He had constantly told Harry he regretted not being a part of her life growing up, but he wasn't sure how safe it would have been for him, as a werewolf, to be so close to Harry.

It didn't add up now because she knew from stories that he was around all the time when she was a baby. Her parents were completely fine with him and he never once showed signs of harming Harry because he was a responsible individual. After her parents died, someone must have instilled the thought in his mind that Harry was safer with her Muggle relatives and away from magical influences, to keep her isolated.

Dumbledore had a hand in every major decision in her life and he always chose what benefitted him in the long term more.

The only decision he hadn't made, the only decision that had been entirely Harry's, was the decision to marry Voldemort.

It prevented Voldemort from killing and took the responsibility of her having to kill him off her shoulders. A compromise was made that improved the livelihood of the wizarding community significantly faster than what would have happened had they set out to end Voldemort violently.

And now she was with a man who has proved just how important Harry's safety and security was to him. One who after just two months of their cold treatments, had already entrusted Harry with another piece of her soul.

Her fingers wrapped around the locket securely. She was going to keep it safe.

As Voldemort explained, there was nothing they could do to change their circumstance except kill Harry, which couldn't be done and neither did she want to. In the past, she hated how this connection to Voldemort alienated her from everyone else. Now she realizes that perhaps it wasn't the Horcrux in her that alienated her, but someone else who wanted to keep her a safe distance away.

Harry rose from the tub, magically dried her hair before slipping on a nightgown in her room.

The clock read that it was midnight when Voldemort Apparated back home. Checking her reflection in the vanity mirror, she sadly noted how pale her face looked.

Her head snapped towards the door when she heard it creak open, and the person she was just about to seek walked in.

Voldemort sighed deeply and crossed his arms.

"I know you're mad at me," he stated. "But your anger is misplaced. I never—"

"I'm not mad at you," she mumbled.

"You're not?" he asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

Harry walked closer to him.

"I was, but now I'm not. I believe that you didn't intentionally make me a Horcrux and I believe that you didn't want to kill me when you found out."

His eyes lit up and Harry noted that they were grey again. Did he take the red eyes glamour off every night?

Harry took a deep breath. "Everything you said about Dumbledore… It all makes sense. Everything makes sense now. He left me in an abusive household and he left Sirius in Azkaban and I'm pretty positive he convinced Remus to stay away from me all to isolate me. It makes me wonder how much of my decisions I made on my own and how many were his."

"Well, there was this one decision that was ours and not his," Voldemort pointed out.

Harry looked up into his eyes again. He looked happy. Not evil-happy, but genuine-happy. It certainly made his life easier if his Horcrux-wife believed him when he said Dumbledore was no good. Voldemort like this was someone she didn't mind, someone she could stand and might even like to be around.

"I know. And I think it was the best decision for us," Harry added.

"It is."

"He never liked to believe that you could change," Harry told him. Dumbledore, though gentle while saying it, never entertained the thought that Tom Riddle could have a single good bone in his body. To him, once he became Voldemort, he was too far gone.

Yet, Harry had seen a lot of small good things he did in just the two months she lived with him.

"I won't change and you can't change me," Voldemort stated calmly.

"I don't imagine I can either," she sighed. "But I don't believe you're inherently evil." He made no comment on that. Harry stepped closer. "You won't go scheming behind my back," she demanded.

"And you won't tell anyone about my Horcruxes."

"You'll have to teach me Occlumency before Christmas."

"I will."

"You'll never hurt my friends."

"Why should I, unless they give me a reason to?" he said smoothly.

"If they give you a reason to, you'll tell me. I can deal with them. I want no bloodshed. I can't lose anyone else."

"Fine."

"Good," she said softly. Then she lifted herself on her tiptoes, cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Voldemort froze.

Harry pulled away, embarrassed but also not very regretful because she sort of liked the kiss.

His eyes were open and staring straight into hers. She was so relieved they were his real eyes—it was much less intimidating than then red.

Harry waited for him to say something, anything.

He dropped his gaze back down to her lips, pulled her waist closer to him and drew her in for another searing kiss.

Harry let her eyes shut and allowed herself to get lost in the kiss. Allowed herself to open her heart to him this much and trust that the unlikeliest person in the world had no motive to stab her in the back because he already had everything he could want from her.

They pulled away, breathless, and stared at each other for a moment, reeling in the feeling.

Then Harry said, "You should probably go to sleep now, since I know you're going to be up early and disappear for all of tomorrow."


A/N: They kissed!

Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reviewed and followed/favourited this fic! And thank you for reading :)