There were no more dinners she was forced to attend, but there were several Death Eater meetings in the coming weeks.

The other Death Eaters took to calling her "my lady" which she found extremely uncomfortable. The only plus side was she had nothing to worry about around the Death Eaters (regarding her own safety). As their lady, they were forced to respect her.

Had Harry been anyone other than Harry Potter, she would probably have talked down to Bellatrix a lot. Some of the Death Eaters, like her, were still not used to Harry Potter being someone they have to respect. A few still talked to her like she was an annoying pest. It was their luck—or perhaps luck had nothing to do with it—that they only voiced these opinions when Voldemort wasn't around.

Unfortunately for them, Harry slipped up around Voldemort one evening and he penetrated her mind enough to see some of the Death Eater's disrespecting her.

As you can guess, it did not end well for them. He didn't kill them, of course, but they were barely coherent when he was done torturing them.

Harry tried to stop him, but when he went into a blind rage like this, there was no stopping the onslaught of pain that was to come.

Staring wide-eyed at the six bodies on the ground, breathing shakily and occasionally twitching a limb unintentionally, she froze up.

Harry couldn't look away, she couldn't process anything except that she witnessed firsthand just how violently vicious her husband could be.

Safe to say, it instilled a new fear in her. Or rather, it resurrected a recently diminished fear.

Voldemort came into her room one night after she spent nearly two days avoiding him.

Harry sat up in her bed and drew her covers close to her body, watching him apprehensively.

"What's the matter with you?" he huffed. "You're acting differently."

"No, I'm not," Harry mumbled, not taking her eyes off him and secretly clutching her wand under the covers.

"You are. Don't tell me I scared you because of what happened the other day," he said, sitting on the end of her bed and smirking slightly.

"I'm not scared of you."

"Then why are you so tense and holding your wand in a death grip?"

It was amusing to him but horrifying to her. In fact his amusement at the situation horrified her further. How was he so calm after what he did?

"You're insane," she muttered quietly. "You shouldn't have done that."

His smirk dropped.

"They were disrespecting you."

"And I don't care if they do! I know I'm above them so their opinions don't matter to me."

"That's admirable, but you're my wife. Mine. And they're to treat everythings that is mine with as much respect as they give me. They defied my orders so they have to pay. It's a simple concept."

He stretched a hand out across the bed to reach for her, but she pulled herself as far away from him as she could. He sighed and stood, quietly leaving her room.

It took a few days before she was finally able to move past what happened and convince herself that he would never do that to her.

"I don't like violence," she stated quietly at breakfast one morning. In an effort to explain her distance to her already distant and emotionless husband.

"That's going to be terrible for you to deal with here," he said casually.

"Why do you need to be violent? There are more peaceful ways of dealing with people."

"Yes, but none are as quick and efficient as violence. I don't have time for mind games and scheming. A Crucio works so much better and so much faster."

Harry, slightly nauseous, stared down at her plate and pushed it away.

"Why do you let things that have nothing to do with you bother you?" Voldemort asked.

"I can't help it. This is what we call it when people have feelings."

"You have sympathy for people who wish terrible things on you?"

"Yes. I don't care what they think of me, I care about what I think of me. And I can't bear to stand there and watch you make them endure agony."

Harry only ever spoke her mind. It came as a shock to her when Voldemort actually considered some things she said.

He took care to shield her from the more gruesome acts of his business after that.

Harry did a double take when she saw Voldemort in the afternoon one day. He was missing from breakfast so she assumed he would be gone all day.

That wasn't why she did a double take, though.

He looked really good.

Like really good.

She wasn't sure what it was about him today—perhaps his hair was a little different, but he looked as if he rolled out of bed looking this hot. It was so unfair how attractive he was and it was so unfair that he was who he was.

Had he been any other man with lesser crimes, Harry would find a way to justify her attraction, especially since he was her husband and she was meant to find him attractive.

"Why are you dressed in that drab again?" he asked, eying her clothes distastefully. If he noticed Harry ogling him, he didn't make a comment.

"I thought you weren't going to be around today," she said.

"You only dress like a proper lady when I'm around?"

"Of course, I only do it to appease you," she shrugged.

"Well, go get dressed quickly. I have a slew of people coming in today."

Harry sighed and nodded.

Regardless of the people, company was company. And it was more exciting than sitting in a house alone reading.

Harry wore a black long sleeve dress that hugged her frame nicely. All of the clothes in her closet were dark colours and very sophisticated.

Downstairs, she leaned against the bannister and watched as a couple Death Eaters came in the house, nodded at her politely and went about their business. Inconspicuously, she tried to make note of where they were going.

A couple hours later, a few more arrived and they brought items. They also disappeared around the same corner as the other men.

Harry walked down the hall, peering around the corner. It was the entrance to the cellar. She'd found it during her first week here, but she had no business being down there so it was avoided. It seemed like they were storing items in their cellar now.

Likely dark artefacts none of them wanted confiscated by the Ministry.

Harry hurried back to the entrance hall when she heard the front doors open again. It was the Malfoys.

"My lady," Lucius said with a forced smile. "Have you seen my lord?"

"He's probably around, I don't know where," Harry replied.

Likely, he was in his study, but he could also be in one of the drawing rooms if he was with multiple people. He didn't like his study to be crowded. Plus it was on the third floor, where rarely any of the Death Eaters were allowed. They were strictly to remain on the ground floor or below.

"I will go look for him, then," he said, nodding at her once more before touching a hand to his wife's arm and leaving her.

Harry blinked at his retreating form. Why did he leave Narcissa behind? She turned back to the older woman.

Oh, great. Was Harry meant to keep her company and chat over tea or something? This had to be one of Voldemort's ideas.

Harry met her gaze awkwardly. Narcissa smiled tightly and looked around. Even Harry knew enough to know that standing in the entrance hall with a guest was rude.

"Would you like to join me for some tea?" Harry asked, putting on a fake smile.

"That would be lovely," Narcissa said, just as awkwardly.

"Hilsey," Harry called. She hated using the house elves this way. Only Voldemort ordered them around. If she ever made requests to them, she sought them out herself to not disrupt their work. At this moment, however, she was nervous and needed to act quick.

"Yes, Mistress," Hilsey appeared with a slight pop. She looked over to Narcissa and bowed to her too.

"Bring some tea for us in the drawing room, please," she asked.

"Right away, Mistress," Hilsey bowed again before disappearing.

Harry led the way to the drawing room they kept open at all times and was relieved to see it was clear of all her books and blanket. Those house elves certainly worked quickly.

"Please sit," Harry motioned to the sofa and took a seat as well.

In the walk over here, she decided Narcissa was likely the best person to get information from. If Voldemort wanted them to become friends it was most likely because he thought she could do well with her influence. And Narcissa had been around all this for decades, she's probably been storing information on the ins and outs of Death Eaters this whole time.

Hilsey arrived with tea and some pastries. Harry did her best impression of Aunt Petunia as she placed a mini tart on her plate and took a small nibble.

Both women quietly sipped their tea.

"How is Draco?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Doing well, thank you for asking," Narcissa said politely.

"He doesn't ever come to the meetings," Harry stated. He joined the Death Eaters very early on.

"No. He gets his orders individually from the Dark Lord."

"Oh, I see," Harry nodded. "Is he pretty active in his participation?"

"Not at the moment," Narcissa said, again smiling tightly.

So basically Draco wasn't wanted around unless he was absolutely needed.

"That's probably best for his safety, if I'm honest," Harry added quietly.

Narcissa looked at her seriously for a moment. "I agree."

"So you're not actually a Death Eater, right? You don't have the mark?"

"No, I do not."

"Did you ever want to?"

"Your hydrangeas are lovely. How do you keep them so well maintained?"

"Thank you. My aunt has made me take care of the garden since I was six, so I'm good with plants," Harry answered.

"You should come see the garden at Malfoy Manor. It's magnificent."

"Thanks, but I'm not allowed to leave the house."

Narcissa blinked at her.

"Right."

It was silent again, before Harry asked another question that was bothering her.

"Have the Ministry raids started again? Is that why everyone is bringing things here?"

"No, there have been no other raids," Narcissa said. "This is simply a safety precaution."

"Okay, good," Harry breathed in relief.

It was silent again and Harry quit trying to initiate conversation. Narcissa looked like she wanted to say something, so Harry let her.

"How are you handling married life?" she asked unblinkingly.

"Oh," Harry started, "Erm, alright, I guess."

"The Dark Lord had implied it was taking a toll on you."

"I don't know about that, I like to think I'm pretty tough."

Narcissa looked at her pityingly. She was so different from her sister that Harry constantly forgot they were even related.

"I remember telling myself I was tough too, at the beginning of my marriage," she said quietly. Harry looked startled.

"I thought you wanted to marry Lucius?"

From what she'd heard from Sirius about his cousins' weddings, Narcissa was the most eager to get married. And her and Lucius actually looked like they loved each other a lot.

"Why wouldn't I want to marry him?" Narcissa huffed lightly. "He came from a noble pureblood family, he was handsome, and out of all my sisters, he chose to marry me."

"I thought you loved him," Harry said in shock.

"There's no space for love when you're securing a good and profitable marriage. My other sister eloped and brought shame to our family, I couldn't do the same thing. He still wanted to marry me so we did it quickly before he changed his mind. It was hard for me too. He was not what I expected, his father was very hard on him and now for once in his life he had someone to take that anger out on."

Harry's eyes widened.

"He hurt you?" she whispered.

"No more than any egotistical husband hurts his wife."

Harry blinked in confusion. Exactly how much was that?

"What does that mean?"

Narcissa blinked at her coolly.

"We all saw the bruises on your neck, Potter," she said.

Harry froze. "That? No, that wasn't—" she struggled to explain. Voldemort wasn't abusive exactly. "He… he's not that kind of monster."

Narcissa's stony expression dropped to a pitying one again.

"No, honestly," Harry insisted. "He's had ample opportunities to hurt me, physically or emotionally—or even sexually—but he doesn't. That was just a situation that escalated that I think both of us are trying to forget."

"He's never put his hands on you before?" she found that really hard to believe. Which Harry can wholeheartedly understand, she too, found it difficult to believe Voldemort didn't want to strangle her at least once a day.

"Not unless it's to put on jewelry or Apparition."

Now Narcissa was even more skeptical.

"You're telling me he didn't consummate your marriage?"

"No!" Harry turned beet red. "I mean, yes. We did. But it was normal. And consensual. Very consensual, I was actually the one who insisted we get it over with."

Narcissa's eyes searched her face for any hints of lies or omissions.

"If that's what you thought I meant by being tough…" Harry said, "I only meant that it's difficult because of who he is as a person. Other than forcing me to sit with your sister and act as if she didn't kill my godfather, I don't really have any serious issues with him."

"That's… really relieving to hear," Narcissa said softly. "That's more surprising to me than your so-called friends letting you marry a notoriously dark wizard half a century older than you."

"They had no choice," Harry said defensively. "If I wanted to do it and Voldemort wanted to do it, there's nothing anyone could have done to stop us."

"Perhaps."

"Regardless of our age difference, I'm more connected to him in ways I'll never be with anyone else. Might as well have tied the knot to connect us in a legal way and save a lot of lives."

Voldemort and Lucius were walking down the hall when they passed by the open drawing room and spotted their wives having tea.

He looked pleased again, at Harry acting the way he expects with guests around. She was beginning to find it hard to be annoyed at his satisfied expression.

Things were much easier when he was happy. Harry could still remember the way his face contorted in anger at the graveyard when his wand wouldn't let him kill her, or when she escaped with Cedric.

"Are all of them gone?" Harry asked Voldemort outside the drawing room as a house elf fetched Lucius and Narcissa's coats.

"Yes. You two look like you had a nice chat," Voldemort commented, nodding at Narcissa.

"Yes, we talked about—" a sarcastic response came to the tip of her tongue, but she could not voice it. "— things."

Things was also funny enough to make her hide a grin.

"What? What's so funny?" Voldemort asked immediately.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"I can't say it out loud, it's inappropriate," she insisted, hiding her smile behind her hand. Her eyes, lit up in mirth, flicked to him to take in his expression. His scowl immediately cleared up and he rolled his eyes, waving at Lucius to leave.

Lucius looked at his wife in confusion, who shrugged and shook her head at him, equally confused at why Harry was struggling to contain her laughter.

"Oh, that joke would have killed with my friends," Harry lamented, as they headed up the stairs.

"You didn't make a joke."

"Because you would have been livid if I said it out loud, but trust me it was hilarious—"

"I don't understand your sense of humour."

"That's because you don't have one."

"Good work, Bella," Voldemort grinned, eyes furiously reading through a scroll she brought. Narcissa hung back, taking in the decor of the dark drawing room, the one that stayed locked, except for today because it was being filled with valuables.

"Thank you, my lord," Bellatrix beamed, as she scanned the document from beside him. Her eyes shone when she looked up at his face.

Narcissa shared a look with her husband. Lucius was carefully putting away a set of (cursed) cutlery that had been passed down from Hufflepuff.

He shook his head and continued with his work, careful as he handled the precious artifacts.

Both husband and wife had warned Bellatrix several times about how she acted around the Dark Lord. It was no secret she was into him. At least before Azkaban, she was somewhat subtle. Still, it wasn't so harmful because the Dark Lord loved any and all praise and devotion that came his way.

However, that was before he was married.

It was riskier now. There was no telling how he may react should she come on to him too strongly.

"Lucius," Narcissa hissed very quietly, eyes wide. He glanced back at his sister-in-law and saw her leaning closer to the Dark Lord, under the pretense of reading the precious document she managed to obtain.

Head practically leaning on his shoulder, her hand timidly came up to slide through his elbow. Voldemort's eyes froze mid-sentence and slowly turned to her.

In less than a second a cold, pin-pricking sensation washed over her, making her eyes widen. Then she was promptly blasted to the side, several feet away from him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bellatrix," a sugary-sweet voice said, "I didn't see you there."

They all turned back to see Harry standing at the doorway with her wand pointed straight at the offending woman. She dropped her fake-sweet smile and glared at her, before lowering her wand.

Harry strode into the room, ignoring the shocked faces of the Malfoys, and Voldemort's intrigued one. She slid up beside Voldemort and without hesitation looped her arm through his, even going as far as leaning her head on his shoulder in the way Bellatrix wanted to.

It was ultra petty and childish, she knew that. But the look on Bellatrix's face was worth it.

"You could seriously hurt me, you little—" Bellatrix shouted.

"Yes?" Harry urged her to continue. "What were you going to call me?"

Bellatrix's gaze moved from Voldemort's unhappy expression, to Lucius and Narcissa's pleading ones.

"My lady," she breathed. "I was going to call you 'my lady'."

"It didn't sound like that, it sounded like you wanted to say something else."

"No," Bellatrix insisted, rising to her feet and not meeting anyone's gaze.

"Good," Harry chirped, turning her attention back to the scroll that Voldemort closed. "I have to talk to you."

Done with her little act, she carefully extracted her hand from under his and looked at him seriously.

"About what?"

"My Christmas plans."

The last time she visited the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley urged her to find a way to visit for Christmas, and now that day was a few weeks away.

Voldemort was more stressed and busy lately, but she really needed him to agree that her Occlumency was on par so she could go. It was all she had been looking forward to.

"Oh, that," he rubbed his jaw, as he thought. "We'll discuss it after," he said dismissively.

Harry bit her lip. Did that mean it wasn't happening anymore? Was he just saying that right now and hoping she'd forget about it until it was too late?

"Fine," she sighed and left the room.

"Why does he have to test me?" Harry asked, staring at Barty Crouch Jr. unimpressed. "Why not you?"

"Because you don't have the capacity to block me," Voldemort stated.

"Then how can I block Dumbledore? If I can't even block you—"

Slowly, he turned his head towards her, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I-I mean, shouldn't we just prepare for the worst? If I can block you then we'll know for sure I can always block Dumbledore."

"Nice save," coughed Barty. Harry glared at him.

"If you can block Barty, it's good enough to block Dumbledore or anyone else. The reason you'll never block me is because we share a bond."

Oh right.

She doubted he meant the marriage bond, but the Horcrux did complicate things.

"I'm not getting anything, my lord," Barty said, looking straight into Harry's eyes.

"Go harder."

Harry sat calmly in her chair while Voldemort circled around her and Barty, waiting for her to break concentration. Barty narrowed his eyes.

"Merlin's beard, that's an awful haircut you used to have," Barty said to her, his lip tugging in amusement. Harry frowned in confusion, she didn't feel him in her head at all.

"Nice try," she said eventually, realizing he was bluffing to make her lose concentration.

"It's solid, my lord," Barty said.

"Excellent, you may leave, Barty," Voldemort said.

"So?" Harry asked, rising from her seat and smiling expectantly.

"You can go," he confirmed.

She squealed in excitement, making him scowl deeper.

"Oh, but," her shoulders dropped in disappointment when she remembered something. "I haven't gotten anyone any Christmas presents."

"You have to get them presents too, now?" he grumbled.

"Well, as someone who has nothing to do all day and isn't lacking the funding to do so, I can't walk in empty-handed. Do you think…" she almost didn't dare ask. "Perhaps Barty could take me to Diagon Alley? Just for one day?"

"No."

"Please?" she pleaded, stepping closer to him. "I won't keep him all day."

"He's too busy to even go for an hour."

Harry nodded in quiet resignation. Trying to look on the bright side, mainly so he doesn't get pissed off and take this away from her, she said, "I guess I can make a list and have one of the house elves check for me."

Voldemort quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement.

"Or," he said, leaning back against his desk, "I could just take you."

"Really?" Harry breathed, looking up in excitement again.

"Sure," he shrugged. "I haven't had the chance to flaunt my riches in a while, I could use this."

Harry squealed again and this time she threw her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was embarrassing, but she was constantly looking for ways to do it again.

Voldemort was surprised, once again, but he melded into the kiss much faster than last time. His hands rested on her hips and pulled her close, deepening the kiss far more than she intended. She started this, and he was going to end it when he felt like it.

She had to wear a disguise, he said. Not that she wasn't safe with him, but he wanted to give his enemies as little information about her as possible. Let them believe that she was a caged bird, and let them not believe her when she insisted she wasn't. The less they knew about their life, the better for him.

Harry was a ball of energy. His biggest mistake was forcing her indoors because she lived to be outside and with people. All the pent up energy was flowing on this one day. It resulted in her dragging him across every shop in Diagon Alley, and several of them more than once. At least eight times she told him she'd never been to Diagon Alley in the winter and how pretty it was.

He was very relieved when she wanted to stop for hot cocoa from a street vendor… Until he realized he had only fueled her with a sugar rush.

"We are never doing that again," he said the moment they arrived home.

"Why not?" Harry lamented. "That was so fun! I never knew you could be fun."

"All I did was pay for your shopping."

"And that's what makes it fun," she grinned mischievously, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He blinked at her retreating form, wondering when he began to crave affection.

She opened up to him more that night. When she told him about her life with her Muggle relatives, he understood why she craved affection from him too. And why she couldn't stand being locked up inside. And why, for someone with a spitfire soul, it was easier to make her bend to his will.

Growing up, she had been conditioned to do so.

"You're letting me out again?" Harry asked him, startled. It had only been a few days since their last outing and Christmas was next week. She didn't think she'd be allowed to go out again until then.

"You speak as if I keep you caged like a dog," he grumbled.

"That's because you do."

"No, I don't," he scowled, glaring at her. "I would be more comfortable with you going outside if it weren't for Dumbledore alive and walking about. That's the only reason I don't like you going out."

Of course. She rolled her eyes. Everything always came back to Dumbledore with him.

"So, where do you want to go? If you're going to be as annoying as you were at Diagon Alley, I'll have to arrange for Barty to take you."

Bellatrix was more apprehensive and cautious of her behaviour now.

It didn't stop Harry from goading her.

The air rippled in a way that signalled someone entering the wards.

"Who's that?" Harry asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort responded.

"She's coming? Why didn't you tell me?" Harry exclaimed, immediately setting her cup down.

"Why do I need to tell you—" and he watched in confusion as his wife waved her wand in front of her chest and neck, making small bruises appear. No, not bruises. Hickies. "Oh, for Merlin's sake."

Harry ignored him and hurried out to open the front doors and let Bellatrix in.

Her little stunt got her the reaction she wanted. It went even better when Voldemort couldn't take his eyes off her.

"You know, you could have just asked me," he stated, eyes roaming her neck.

Harry blushed, "This was faster."

And she brushed past him before he could say anything else.

Harry was wrapping her presents when she remembered there was more she wanted to buy. Well, time to see if Voldemort actually meant it when he said she could go out.

There was a small meeting in the dining hall with Bellatrix, Barty and Nott. Bellatrix was sitting in her spot again.

Sauntering in, Harry casually walked around the perimeter of the room, until she was closer to the table. No one looked up at her, all of them too busy looking at a series of forms. (Except for Bellatrix, she was playing with her hair). Barty gave a few suggestions that Voldemort agreed to.

Slowly Harry walked closer, putting a hand on the back of Voldemort's chair to see what they were looking at. There was a lot of paperwork going around that she was quite curious about now.

"My lady," Bellatrix said instantly, "I don't think you should involve yourself with this business."

Harry met her gaze evenly, unbothered.

"Don't worry, I'm not meddling," she said.

Bellatrix flicked her gaze down to Voldemort, to see if he was going to tell her to leave, but as soon as Harry's hand touched his shoulder, he closed his mouth.

Unable to hold her smirk from how easy this was, Harry slid both hands down her husband's chest and leaned closer to him.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, turning his face towards hers.

"I forgot to buy some things from Diagon Alley," she told him sheepishly.

"Barty can take you tomorrow," he replied, making Harry beam.

"Thank you," she said, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. He barely reacted but Harry wasn't nonplussed. Around his followers, he was never himself.

Harry arrived home from Diagon Alley with Barty.

"D'you want to come inside?" she asked him as the doors opened up to let them into the toasty warm house.

"If I'm not imposing, I don't mind sticking around," Barty shrugged, entering after her.

"Whether your imposing or not is up to Voldemort, I don't fully understand your relationship," Harry commented, taking her cloak off.

Hilsey came to grab her cloak as Barty wandered around the house. Another house elf grabbed Harry's bags to take upstairs.

"Where's Voldemort?" she asked them.

"Master is in the drawing room with the Malfoys and Lestranges."

"Oh shit," she mumbled under her breath, wishing she hadn't let Rolly take her bags upstairs so she could have an excuse to not stop by. She had to pass by the drawing room to go up the stairs and the door was open. Harry could hear their voices.

As quietly and quickly as possible, she tiptoed across the entrance hall and headed for the stairs.

"Harry," Voldemort called. "Come in here and join us."

Fuck.

Harry took in her appearance to make sure she looked fine before gracefully walking into the drawing room and greeting everyone.

Voldemort was alone in a chair. Lucius and Narcissa had a loveseat to themselves, and the only other sofa was occupied by Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan. Barty was sitting in a chair she knew didn't belong in this room and must have been conjured because there was no space.

Assessing the sitting situation, Harry wondered where she was supposed to sit and if Voldemort was going to conjure a chair for her too.

He didn't. He was looking at her expectantly. Everyone was waiting for her to find a seat.

And that's when she realized the golden opportunity she was given. Harry sauntered forward and shamelessly plopped down in her husband's lap. Voldemort had clearly been waiting for that because his arms curled around her without question.

"We should get more chairs for this room," she commented, to break the silence.

"Why?" Voldemort smirked. "This arrangement is fine."

Harry rolled her eyes and slid an arm around his neck so she was more comfortable.

And comfortable, she was. Sitting on his lap was a win-win situation for her because not only did it infuriate Bellatrix, but if Harry—

Voldemort let out the quietest, softest groan as Harry shifted in her spot.

She pretended as if she didn't notice, but really she was waiting for everyone's attention to be off them so she could do it again. The worse his condition got, the sooner all these people were out of her house.

Harry put on a wide smile and laughed as Barty retold a story from their shopping trip and shifted ever so slightly. Voldemort's grip tightened on her.

"What are you doing?" he muttered in her ear.

Harry, still smiling, turned to look at him. His face was much closer than she expected. "Me? I'm not doing anything."

As she said that, her eyes flicked to Bellatrix, who didn't even care that she was sitting next to her own husband and his brother. She clearly thought Harry's behaviour was ridiculous and was trying forcibly to make eye contact with Narcissa. Narcissa avoided her gaze and minded her business.

"Bellatrix, you're looking a little sick, are you under the weather?" Harry asked politely, carding her fingers through her husband's hair. Unintentionally he leaned into her touch.

"No, I'm perfectly well, my lady," Bellatrix clipped.

"Are you sure? Perhaps you should drink more of your tea. You've hardly touched it."

"I'm fine," she grumbled.

"Is the tea not to your liking?" she asked, with the hint of boldness. Despite not having anything to do with the making of food in this house, any compliments on good food were paid to Harry and if someone didn't like something Harry was the one who was supposed to be offended. Or something like that. She couldn't remember exactly how seriously these people took etiquette.

"No, not at all, my lady," Bellatrix responded.

"Then why won't you—"

"Bella, just drink it," Narcissa hissed, from behind her own cup.

Jaw clenching, Bellatrix took a big gulp of her tea and set it back down too aggressively. Harry's eyes widened and she blinked at her in surprise.

"Did I do something wrong?" she whispered to Voldemort, leaning even closer to him. Her 'whisper' was loud enough for everyone to hear. He gave her a deadpan look that said you know exactly what you're doing.

Still keeping up the innocent act, Harry played with his hand on her stomach, interlocking their fingers. Her gaze trailed from his (really nice) hands up to his devastatingly handsome face, taking in each feature. His eyes flicked to her once before he exhaled slowly and looked straight ahead. His arm tightened around her, pulling her even closer.

"It's late," he said suddenly, speaking for the first time in fifteen minutes. "Don't you all have homes to go to?"

They all stood and thanked him for having them over for tea.

"We'll walk you out," Harry said, standing up.

Voldemort shot up behind her, wrapped both his arms around her waist and pulled her back. Harry tried not to react to the feeling of his prominent bulge.

"No, we won't, they know where the door is," he clipped tightly.

Harry covered his arms on her waist with her own and let out a small giggle. "I guess we won't be walking you out."

Bellatrix's eyes were furious as she looked between the couple before storming out of the room. As soon as all of them were out, the doors to the drawing room slammed shut and Voldemort spun Harry around.

"What the hell is your deal?" he growled. "I know you hate her but must you take it this far?"

"Yes," Harry said, running her fingers up and down his chest. "She took something from me, so now I'm going to rub it in her face everyday that I took something from her. You're the only important person in her life. It's perfect."

"I hope you know what you started in doing that," he said huskily, hands roaming her body. Harry gasped as they ran over her chest.

"Of course I know. How else would I get you desperate enough to make them leave?" she said, grinning. "It's a win-win-win situation for me."

"How very Slytherin of you," he said, his eyes fixed on hers. "I'm going to ravish you."

"Good, I've only been waiting twenty minutes—"

He Apparated them within the house to his bedroom. The only other time Harry had been in this room was when they consummated their marriage. It brought back memories that made her nervous all of a sudden, like it was her first time again.

He pushed Harry back on the bed, just like last time. She leaned back and watched him crawl over her again, just like last time.

"Wait, wait," she whispered, frowning as she leaned forward to cup his face. "Your eyes."

"What about them?"

"They're still red. Make them grey again."

"Does it matter that much?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded. "Red eyes, you're Voldemort, the fearful Dark Lord. Grey eyes, you're Tom. My husband."

His eyes flicked between hers for a moment between he blinked and his eyes reverted to their original hue. A beautiful mix of blue, green and hazel, coming together in a whirlwind to make this colour.

She cupped his face and pulled him down for a breathless kiss. His hands ran up her thigh, hip and waist, removing her dress. Harry was aware that this was the first time he'd be seeing her naked, seeing as last time both just wanted to get it done and over with.

She began to work on his buttons but it was useless because he vanished his own clothes. His gaze trailed down her neck to the locket and then her chest. He groped her over her bra before taking that off too.

Eyes lighting up in delight, he squeezed the fleshy mounds in his hands before bringing his mouth down over one of her nipples.

Harry moaned loudly, struggling to keep her eyes open. She didn't want to miss a second of this. Her own hands ran up and down his back, feeling the toned muscle under his skin.

Moving her hands up to rest behind her, she gazed down at the man practically worshipping her chest. She grazed her leg against his and thats when he trailed his kisses up to the base of her neck, sucking in those hickies she faked the other day.

"Tom," she groaned. "Fuck me."

Not taking his lips off her skin, he pulled her knees up, spreading them far apart. When his bulge brushed against her center, she felt a shot of pleasure jolt through her.

"Tom," she whined again.

He pulled his lips off her skin and as soon as he vanished her panties, his eyes landed on another prize he wanted to explore.

"Please, Tom, we can do all this after, just fuck me again," Harry begged. She'd been waiting so long for this.

"After?" he mumbled against her navel, kissing his way down.

"Yes, please, we can do this as many times as you want, just please—"

He was back up in a flash, breathing heavily as he pushed his cock into her. Fully sheathed inside in a second, he locked eyes with her and started to fuck her hard.

Harry bit her lip to contain her noises until he crushed his lips to hers in a punishing kiss.

It was over within a few minutes, neither of them able to hold out any longer. As soon as he pulled, Harry dropped her head back and let out a satisfied sigh.

Then she felt his lips on her inner thighs. Her head shot up and she watched as Tom kissed, sucked and licked his way to her slit. Then he lazily looked up, meeting her eyes as he licked a long stripe up.

"Fuck," she whined, feeling her body heat up again. Any time her eyes shut he lightly slapped her leg to bring her focus back on him as he ate her out.

After she came a second time, she only had a few moments of peace before he began to ravish her chest again.

"Tom," she protested.

"You said I can do this as many times as I want," he reminded her, sucking on a nipple.

He made good on that promise, taking his sweet time to explore every crevice of her body all night long.

When he was finally done, he dropped down next to her, breathlessly, and slung an arm over her waist. A stark contrast to how detached he was last time.

"We forgot the potion again," Harry whispered in the dark.

He groaned in response. "Tomorrow," he said.

"Okay," she whispered back.

Harry gulped, wondering if he wanted her to leave so he could have his bed to himself. But his arm was around her? She tried to lift it up, which only prompted him to tighten his grip.

"Stay here," he said, pulling her naked body close to his.

"Okay," Harry said with a small smile, nestling in his arms and falling asleep.

He was the first one up, obviously. By the time Harry woke up, it was later than their usual breakfast time.

Tangled in the duvet, she kicked her legs until the cool morning air breezed across her naked body and she shot up, remembering the night before.

Harry searched around for her dress, but it was gone because he vanished it. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. She couldn't walk to her room naked, that was shameful and what if one of the house elves saw?

He had vanished his own clothes too, so she had nothing to cover up with except for the duvet. That's when her eyes landed on a crisp, white, collared shirt at the foot of the bed. It looked like he was debating between shirts while getting dressed and opted for the other one.

Harry grabbed the shirt and slid her arms through the sleeves. She stood and buttoned it up, glad that it covered her bum at least. Then she looked behind her to make sure she didn't leave anything behind and tiptoed out of the room to begin her walk of shame back to her own bedroom.

Was it still a walk of 'shame' if it was in her own house and she had sex with her own husband? It was for her, because she was supposed to be above all this. She was not supposed to fall for his charming good looks and drop her panties just because technically this was allowed.

"You're finally awake," he spoke from behind her, startling her. "I was just coming to wake you up."

He could have a house elf wake her, he's done that in the past. But he was going to come himself?

Harry turned around to face Tom.

"I gotta say, I like this," he smirked, taking her appearance in.

"Your eyes," she gasped, stepping forward to cup his face. She didn't know why seeing the real ones always surprised her. "You should keep them like this. They're so much prettier than the red ones."

"The red ones intimidate people."

Yes, but these ones will make me drop my panties for you again.

Too late she remembered that he reads minds and she was making it extra easy by staring directly into his eyes.

Tom snickered while Harry's face turned red and she scurried back to her room.