Hilsey woke her up early in the morning for breakfast. Tom was already gone.

Harry trudged into her room and changed into a nice outfit for the day. Downstairs, Tom was at the table, reading the Daily Prophet like usual.

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked, sitting down.

He didn't look up.

Harry scoffed. "You know what? Fine. Be this way." She stood back up. "You're the one who got it all in your head that I'm trying to trick you when I've explained myself twice! I wasn't even doing anything wrong! It's not my fault that people haven't been nice to you before so now when I am, you don't trust it!"

"You have no reason to be nice to me," he muttered, still not looking up.

"It doesn't matter! It's just how I am, I can't help it! You think I want to be nice to you? No, I fucking don't! But I am a nice person and I am not a sociopath and when I'm around people I like to see the good in them. Even you!"

She stormed out the dining hall and straight to the kitchens for her breakfast.

Angrily spreading jam over her croissant, she accidentally scared the house elf who tried to do it gentler for her.

"It's okay, Rolly, I got it," she said quietly. He nodded and backed away, wincing when she took a hard bite out of the croissant.

The door burst open and half the house elves scurried away, while the other half bowed before scurrying away.

"Harry, get out of here. You can't eat in the kitchen like a lowly servant," he said.

"I don't care what you think, this is normal where I come from."

"It's not normal here, go back to the dining hall."

"Oh, so you decide everything that's normal around here?" she asked, standing up. "The least normal person?"

He sighed deeply, pinning her with an unamused look.

"I don't have the patience for this today."

"Then fuck off," she spat, walking past him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"Say that again," he threatened.

"Fuck off you fucking pathetic excuse of a human," she repeated. "I've bent over backwards trying to please you when I'm not even obligated to and you throw it all back in my face like I'm a traitor to be wary of. It's not a nice feeling and I'm pissed off," she explained sarcastically.

Again he held her back.

"What?" she shouted.

"Do you trust me?" he asked coldly.

"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have made the offer I did last night."

"Do you trust me wholeheartedly? With everything? Your life, your safety, your happiness?"

Harry hesitated before responding. "No."

"So if you don't trust me," he asked, gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on her hand. "You, who are the kind naive girl looking for the best in everyone—how can you expect me to trust you? It's like you said, I have more at stake with this marriage than you do."

"Because I'm not a psychopath. I don't enjoy tormenting people and stringing them along to make them do what I want."

"No?" he asked, surprised. "Then what were you planning on doing with the little information you gathered last night?"

"What information?" she scowled.

"The information about what I like to do in bed?" he asked, leaning closer. "What was that, if not a strategy for you to use in the future to manipulate me?"

"That's not what I was doing!" she scoffed, pulling her arm out of his grip.

"You're foolish for forgetting that I can still see into your mind."

Harry ripped her gaze away from him angrily. Was she going to have to wear sunglasses inside her own home?

"You're pathetic," she spat again. "And I hate you."


Harry was so angry that she actually considered meeting with Dumbledore out of spite.

That idea was quickly tossed out of her head. If all it took for Voldemort to distrust her was accidentally giving him the idea that he hurt her, then she didn't even want to think of what would happen if she went to Hogwarts against his will. Directly to his enemy.

She was in the library when he found her.

"What?" she asked, sensing him behind her, coming closer.

His hands gently, so gently, placed themselves on her hips. How was it possible that he was such an angry, spiteful, vengeful man, but still was so gentle with her? It was precisely this reason that humanized him to her the first time.

"Perhaps you were right," he murmured in her hair. She didn't want to let it affect her. "Perhaps, I jumped to conclusions when instead I should have been more appreciative of what you were doing for me."

Harry slowly turned around in his arms, to look up at him with a frown on her face.

It went against her argument of doing things to be nice with no ulterior motives. But she had been speaking of herself when she said that. Not him.

"You need something," she stated.

His gaze moved up to look at her.

"What do you need?" she sighed.

"Reschedule your meeting with Dumbledore. See what he has to say about the Horcruxes," he said, his arms dropping.

Pushing the self-pity down, she looked to the side and nodded. "I'll just pop in today and see if he wants to talk."

"Good," he nodded and backed away.

She watched him leave with a sad frown on her face. When did she become one of his followers? When did she become the sort of person who wished to see him succeed in his plans, and helped along with them? Harry could certainly understand why so many unlikely people became Death Eaters, after being around Voldemort long enough to want to be one of those people who made him proud.


"I'm sorry, Professor," she apologized, in Dumbledore's office. "I was hoping to come on New Year's Day like we discussed, but it's been complicated at home."

"It's not a problem Harry. Is everything alright?" he inquired.

He wanted Harry to open up to him more, and Voldemort wanted him to still believe she trusted him, and Harry had a lot of things to get off her chest. So what was the harm in indulging?

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I feel like… I keep trying to make the best of my situation. Find any way to make it bearable. But it's always only a matter of time before shit hits the fan and I'm reminded once again about how terrible of a situation I'm in."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Dumbledore said earnestly. "Do you want to talk about it? What exactly happened?"

"I'm not going to get into the specifics but… You remember how in our lessons I said how I thought that given the chance Voldemort could make the right decisions? And you said—"

"It's not possible, not since he abandoned Tom Riddle and became Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore finished, a faint look of understanding on his face.

"Yes. See, I was determined you were wrong. And I still sort of believe that. Because I've seen him do nice things. So I tried to be nice to him, to see him do more nice things. You know?"

"And it backfired?"

"Royally," Harry confirmed.

"Harry," Dumbledore clasped his hands together, looking proud that he was finally having a real conversation with her. "There are some people, like Voldemort, who aren't capable of being nice. The only reason he ever has been nice, and I saw this all the time when he was a student here, was when he saw an opportunity where he could gain something. He doesn't have your good heart."

"How does that make me good, then? If I'm doing the same thing as him?" she asked. He frowned so she continued. "I saw him be nice to me a few times, for his own gain, sure, I believe it. But then I started being nice to him for my own gain too. And isn't that why everyone is nice? Because they know the good deed will come back to them? So does that mean no one is purely nice, everyone knows that any good deeds they do will be karmically rewarded in the future? Isn't that an ulterior motive to being good?"

"I fear we have opened a can of worms and would have to divulge deep into philosophy theories if we want answers."

Harry agreed and dropped the subject.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked.

He stalled for a few moments, bringing up past memories and events. Then he got into the actual issue: the Horcruxes. Harry had to remember to act as if she didn't know what they were, didn't know she was one.

"I suspect he has more than one," Dumbledore said.

Yeah, try seven.

"More than one?! You can split your soul more than once?" she exclaimed.

The part that interested her, however, was items Dumbledore believed to be Horcruxes.

"You think the locket is one," she stated, staring down at her beloved locket in horror.

"It's a priceless artifact. Voldemort wouldn't want his soul in anything less. Being as intelligent and talented as he is, I wouldn't put it past him to have found the other Founder's artifacts."

Harry didn't remember seeing any of the other Founder's artifacts in their house. Except for probably that cutlery set that belonged to Hufflepuff, but that was a rumour at best.

"I see," she said uncertainly.

"And there's one more thing, Harry," he said slowly. Harry started to feel panic. "I think there was one he made unintentionally. The night he tried to kill you."

"Oh?"

"I think he intended to make his last horcrux that night with your murder, but when the curse rebounded the soul fragment searched for something to put itself into. You—"

A sudden crash made them both rise and look back at the doors.

"What was that?" Harry asked, alarmed. Have the imaginary people Voldemort thought were going to kill her finally come?

"I believe that would be your husband," he clipped. The doors burst open and a fuming Voldemort stood on the other side, dressing in his fine robes. His hair was slightly in disarray, but other than that his appearance was immaculate.

"What are you doing here?!" Harry exclaimed, stepping away from her chair and the desk.

He ignored her and walked up to the desk, glaring at Dumbledore. There was a dark energy surrounding his aura.

"Tom," Dumbledore greeted him.

"What are you doing?" Tom seethed.

Harry's eyes flicked between the two. What was Tom doing?

"I was having a chat with Harry," Dumbledore answered calmly.

"A chat?" he repeated skeptically. "About what exactly?"

Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Harry for a second before focusing back on him.

"It's rather a private matter," he said sternly.

"What business do you have discussing private matters with my wife?" he exclaimed. "You're forgetting who she's loyal to now."

"Hey," Harry felt the need to speak up. "I am—"

"Not now, Harry," Tom said coldly, shutting her up with one look. "I'll deal with you when we get back." His hand clasped over her arm roughly.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she apologized to Dumbledore. "I hadn't expected our meeting to end so soon but—"

"Unhand her, Tom," Dumbledore spoke quietly.

"Don't tell me what to do, you pathetic old fool. I know your game. You're trying to drive a wedge between us to get dear old Harry to divorce me. Well, it seems like you've forgotten but you forfeit any right to make judgments on Harry's behalf as soon as we signed that contract."

"I don't know what you think we were discussing, Tom, but I was simply catching up with an old student."

"And do you often conspire with past students on how to overpower their husbands?"

"Tom, you're hurting her."

"He's not," Harry said quickly, trying to take her arm out of his grasp. "I'm fine, please let's just leave. It's not worth making a scene over."

"This isn't over, Dumbledore, I'm watching you," Tom growled, pulling Harry away with him.

"Harry, remember what I said," Dumbledore called after them.

"And what was that?" Tom asked, turning back around.

"That help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," he answered right away.

Harry resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hogwarts never let either of them down, but Dumbledore did.

Tom scoffed and stormed out of the room, dragging Harry with him. It wasn't until they were off the grounds and Apparated back to their Manor that she pulled away from him.

"What the hell was that?"

"That was me pulling you out of an uncomfortable situation so you may maintain your relationship with Dumbledore."

"Oh," Harry said dumbly. "Well the timing was perfect. How did you do that?"

"Everything I do is perfect."

Harry rolled her eyes.


Dumbledore reached out to her one more time through the Weasleys. She was visiting them again near the end of January and Mrs. Weasley already had a message from him.

"He said something about whether you think the meeting needs to be continued?" Mrs. Weasley related.

"If I don't see him before you, then can you tell him I said no?" Harry said. "I think I understood his meaning."

She did, but she was going to pretend she didn't understand the full meaning.

"Hermione, look who's here to see you," Ron said, walking their best friend down.

Harry stood to engulf Hermione in a hug. Her heart ached like it always did seeing her like this.

"Have there been any developments in her condition at all?" Harry asked Ron, privately. He had a theory that even though Hermione was unresponsive, she was still in there and could hear them, so now he made sure she wasn't around when they spoke about her condition.

"None at all," he said bitterly, taking a large gulp of Firewhiskey. Harry's head turned back to look at Mrs. Weasley in surprise. When she was still comfortably living here, it was illegal to have Firewhiskey.

"How are you holding up?" Harry asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry that you have to carry all this weight on your own. You know I would love nothing more than to be here and help right?"

"I'm fine, Harry," he brushed her off.

"You're not!" she insisted. "Ron don't bottle your feelings up, you know how—"

"It's not that," he said. "I just can't complain to you. It's insensitive. What you have to deal with… I'd much rather be in my own position than yours. No offense."

"I'm perfectly fine, I've already told you."

"Are you?" he asked, looking straight at her.

"He's not husband of the year, but he certainly could have been worse to me. I'm honest, Ron, treat me like you've always treated me. It's the only thing keeping me sane right now. And if you ever need anything, you can ask me. His vault runs deeper than mine. With both of our wealths combined, we might be richer than the Malfoys."

He looked like he was really considering it.

"There's this treatment," he said. Harry sat up eagerly. "It costs thousands of Galleons because it requires her to be seen by a mind healer who will diagnose her and if they can reverse the curse, it'll take weeks of therapy to bring her back to her original state."

Harry stuck her hand in her purse and summoned a notebook and quill, writing down the names of the treatment, the recommended mind healer and the estimated cost.


"Absolutely not," Tom said firmly.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed.

"I'm not paying 6800 Galleons for this fool to give false hope and empty promises."

"He's the best mind healer in Britain!"

Tom snorted. "And he's smart to profit off his title, I'll give him that. But I will tell you right now, that treatment sounds like a sham."

"You can't know that," Harry said desperately. "It's a new procedure. There aren't many cases like Hermione's and this could work!"

"The day Ernie Eggleston is able to not only reverse a mind curse but bring Hermione Granger back to her high level of intelligence… that is the day I'll relinquish my title as Dark Lord."

Harry's shoulders deflated.

"I'll even make a formal apology to the Order of the Phoenix," he continued in amusement. "I'd even go as far as telling Dumbledore he was right, begging for his help to save my soul, and willingly detaining myself in—"

"Alright, I fucking get it!" she snapped, standing up from her chair and walking away. "There's no chance of helping, Hermione, I get it!"

"Now hang on," he said lightly. Harry stopped, her jaw locked. "Come back. I'm sure we can come up with a different way to help your Mudblood."

Hesitantly, Harry sat back down in her seat.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked him.

"I'm trying to think of who I might know that not only is an extremely skilled wizard, but has extensive knowledge of dark curses. Perhaps if this person is also tied with the Death Eaters who cast this curse on Granger, we might be able to get insight on what the curse was. And I'd have to trust that this person is more talented than most in the wizarding world because this won't be an easy task. Now who do I know that has pushed the boundaries of magic several times and achieved excellent results…"

Harry almost couldn't believe it.

"You're saying… you could do it?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, that's right, Harry!" he chuckled. "I'm a very skilled dark wizard and have decades worth of knowledge on curses that I researched beyond what any regular person wanted to know and I have the advantage of lording over my Death Eaters. I was wondering how long it would take for you to ask me."

"What do we do?" she asked hopefully.

Why hadn't she thought of this before? He was very precise and a perfectionist, he valued high intelligence, if she trusted anyone to help with good results it was him!

"First, I'd have to ask my Death Eaters and see if any of them know what the curse was because I can't ask Jugson."

Jugson was the Death Eater who cursed Hermione. The moment she dropped looking like she was dead, Harry, Ron, Fred and George's wands all pointed at him and he was out like a light.

"Okay," Harry nodded.

"I'm going to have to examine her before I brew the potion. I'll need to know which ingredients to order and they won't be easy to find."

"What potion?"

"It hasn't been invented yet."

"Y-you're inventing a potion to fix Hermione?"

"I'm inventing a potion to restore a mind I regret Jugson destroyed and as a bonus I hope it'll make my wife happy again," he said, resting his hand over hers.

Without hesitation, she turned her hand over and held onto his tightly.

"If you can do this… if this works…"

"It will work. I created the potion that gave me my body back," he said, looking down at himself. "Didn't do a bad job, did I?"

"No, you didn't," she smiled, hardly daring to believe her luck. He wasn't angry at her anymore and he was willing to help her.

Whether he meant to get her to sleep with him again or not didn't matter because she did it anyway. She was way too pleased not to.


"Absolutely not," Ron said instantly.

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

He put a protective arm around Hermione. "I'm not letting him anywhere near Hermione."

"Ron, he's the best shot—"

"The mind healer is the best shot."

Everyone else looked uncomfortable with the proposition too. Hermione's wellbeing deserved a family meeting so they can all discuss how to go forth.

"That mind healer couldn't fix Bellatrix Lestrange after she came out of Azkaban," Harry said. "In fact he made it worse. Now imagine how much more dire Hermione's condition is compared to hers! There's no way he can fix her!"

"And you think a simple potion will do the trick?"

"It's not going to be simple at all!" she scoffed.

"How can you trust him enough to suggest this? He could muddle up her mind even more!"

"Because I watched him create a potion by himself that gave him his body back! His original body, with the same genetic makeup—not some placeholder. If there's anyone I trust to work with magic this complex, it's either Hermione herself or him."

"Dumbledore is just as powerful as him, why didn't he come to us if there was a possible answer?" Ginny asked.

"Because the answer doesn't exist yet," Harry explained again. "He needs to come, examine her, and then he will know what sort of thing we're working with. Then he has to gather the ingredients which he said are hard to find and then he can brew the potion and we give it to Hermione."

They all looked back at Ron for the final say.

"I don't know about this, Harry," he sighed.

"What are you lot not getting about this?" she exclaimed. "It's a golden opportunity! He's presented us with an unimaginable offer—there's not a single healer in the world that would go as far as he is comfortable going to achieve results! And he's not even asking us for anything."

"I think that's exactly why we find it a bit suspicious," Bill said. "Not even a good person would make this offer just out of the kindness of their heart. So why is he?"

They all turned back to Harry.

"Because there's nothing you lot can give him that he can't already take," she answered simply.

"That's it?" Fred asked. "Just because we can't offer him anything he wants, he's decided he won't take payment?"

Harry gulped nervously.

"No he is taking payment," Ginny said suddenly, watching Harry closely. "Just not from us."

All their eyes landed on Harry again.

"What exactly is he asking for, dear?" Mrs. Weasley inquired.

"I-I… well," Harry wrung her hands together. "That's sort of between me and him."

They looked uncomfortable and concerned.

"No, it's nothing crazy," she said quickly. "It's honestly not that big of a deal for me."

"But Harry," Ginny began, only to be cut off.

"I'm serious. This is the very least I can do for Hermione."


The wards had to be brought down to let Voldemort in. All of them took the day off to be at home, their wands tucked under their sleeves in case they needed to protect their home in a moment's notice.

Early in the morning, Harry Apparated them to the Burrow and then she gave them another moment to prepare.

"You won't make a single comment about their house or living condition or decor or what have you," Harry demanded. They walked across the snowy field in their heavy cloaks. "Don't taunt them, please," she pleaded. "They're already nervous and reluctant as it is getting your help and I don't want to make them uncomfortable. We really need this for Hermione."

Harry could practically feel their eyes watching them get closer.

"Is that all?" he snapped.

"No," she said, grabbing his arm. He looked down at her in surprise.

They were back in that phase of their relationship where every touch came as a surprise.

"Thank you for doing this," Harry said sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

He nodded once and they continued forward. Harry raised her hand to knock on the door even though it was pointless to announce their presence since everyone was watching them anyway. Before her hand could rap against the wood, Mr. Weasley swung the door open.

His eyes flit from Harry to Voldemort and back.

"Welcome," he said. "Come in."

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," Harry smiled, her cheeks red from the cold. She pulled her dragon skin gloves off and shrugged off her cloak. Mrs. Weasley came forward to grab it from her. "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

She looked uncertainly at Voldemort, but he made no move to take his cloak off. Instead his eyes were scanning the plethora of people here. Not just the Weasleys, but half the Order as well.

He was seconds away from a jibe, Harry could feel it.

"I'm not here to kill anyone, you can all relax," he smirked. Harry's heart started hammering. He loved to make people squirm but this was not the time to do that.

"They know that. Let's go see her, shall we?" she insisted, putting her hand on his arm again and moving him along. "Hermione's in her room?"

Ron nodded, frowning. He met Voldemort's gaze once before dropping it and leading the way upstairs. Harry followed him up the rickety stairs with Voldemort coming in behind her.

"Wait here a second," Ron said quietly, going into the room first to check that Hermione was ready. "Okay, come in."

He held the door open and the two entered the bedroom Hermione shared with Ginny. There were chairs set up by her bed already that they sat in.

Tom got to work right away. His hands tilted her face up and down, taking in every minute detail of her visage. This part made Ron really uncomfortable but he held back any complaints.

After letting her eyelids close, Tom took out his wand and performed a series of spells. Harry shared a look with Ron, hating that she too didn't know what exactly Tom was doing.

Hermione was quiet as ever. The surprising part was that she was already responsive to him. When he made commands like 'look up' 'look down' 'hold out your hands' she listened and obeyed each one. Hermione was never able to listen to them.

Already he was making more progress than they ever did and Harry had no idea why.

Was it because he was a dark wizard and the dark curse responded to him? Was Hermione more aware than they knew and too scared to not listen to Voldemort?

He stood from his chair and backed away. "Can she walk?"

"Usually with help," Ron answered, helping her to stand up. He held her hand and she walked alongside him.

"Alright," he said eventually, looking at Harry. "I've seen everything I need to see."

"That's it?" she asked, startled.

"Yes."

"You think you know the curse?"

"Very well. Who did you think taught it to Jugson?"

"Wait—I thought you didn't know what the curse was! That was the whole point of coming here," she said.

"I didn't know which one it was."

It made Harry uncomfortable that he knew more than one curse to achieve an outcome as devastating as this.

"Right," she nodded dumbly. "I guess we should leave then. Thank you, Ron."

Ron closed the door to Hermione's room as quickly as he could and followed them back downstairs.

As soon as they reached the bottom floor, everyone stood up again.

"We're done," Harry announced. The air was so stiff and full of tension that it felt weird to be talking to them like this. She pulled her gloves on again and donned her cloak. "We'll leave now."

"Breakfast?" Mrs. Weasley squeaked, blinking. "S-some breakfast?"

The others in the room stared at her in displeasure and disappointment. But it was in her nature to offer food, especially to Harry.

Tom looked at the array of breakfast arranged on the table in surprise.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, but we should really get going," Harry said. She moved forward but Tom's feet were plastered to the ground. Oh no. "Tom," she mumbled, nudging him.

He smirked down at her and shrugged. "I could eat. It looks delicious."

It did look delicious, Mrs. Weasley went above and beyond this morning.

Harry glared at him. "No, you can't," she muttered. "Don't you have that meeting?"

There was a small meeting today with his most important followers to give updates.

"They'll wait for me," he said. Harry had no doubt they would. Just like she had no doubt he wasn't actually hungry, he was just doing this to be a pest.

"Not Barty, he has to meet with the Minister in an hour," she said.

He quirked an eyebrow, surprised that she had been keeping track of all these meetings.

"You're right," he said. There was a collective sigh of relief. Tom looked up at Mrs. Weasley, "Thank you for the offer. Assuming it was extended to me as well."

"O-of course," she squeaked again.

He grinned and headed to the door. Harry followed.

"You can stay if you want," he said quietly.

She really wanted to stay.

"Okay, but I'll walk you out first," she said. Make sure he didn't do any trifling shit on the way out.

"See you, Harry," Mr. Weasley said at the door as they walked out, shutting it gently but firmly behind them.

The wards were already up again.

Harry Apparated them back outside their Manor where she was free to Disapparate from again.

"I thought you were staying for the breakfast you denied me?" he said.

"I am, I just didn't want any of them to see this," she said, pulling him down and pressing her lips against his.

The cold only drew them closer to each other. The last time they kissed was during the rushed sex so now he really took his time. Harry didn't mind. Her arms looped around his neck while his circled her waist. Back arching as Tom pulled her close and she stretched to comfortably kiss him, Harry couldn't help but feel giddy. She felt like she was in one of those Christmas-themed rom-com Muggle films, where the couple share a passionate, heated kiss in the middle of a snowy street.

A sound distracted her enough to pull away but he didn't let her do that. Tom kept her face in place so he could continue his work, but the noise got louder. With a loud smack, Harry detached herself from him and looked to her left to see Barty, Lucius, Nott and Bellatrix waiting to be let into the Manor.

Harry pulled away from him as if he shocked her, while Tom glared at his Death Eaters in distaste, annoyed that they dared to interrupt him.

Harry, ready to die of shame and embarrassment, Disapparated on the spot.


"There you are, we thought you weren't coming back," Ginny said, letting Harry into the house.

Harry arrived five minutes ago but one look in her compact mirror showed that her lips were swollen and lipstick smudged. She could not walk into the Burrow like that, so she had to wipe the lipstick off, cool her lips to reduce the swelling and then reapply the lipstick so nothing looked amiss.

The house was loud with everyone in it. The table was extended and more chairs were conjured to fit everyone.

"Harry, come sit here," Mrs. Weasley pointed to an empty seat.

The food really was delicious, but the topic being her husband made it slightly less enjoyable. Some of the Order members thought it was preposterous to let Voldemort into a safehouse and near Hermione. Harry tuned that out.

"Arthur, I can't believe you would allow this," Emmeline Vance said for the fourth time.

"Well, Emmeline, not everything is up to me," he clipped. "As much as I view her as one, Hermione is not my daughter. I have no authority to decide what treatments she undertakes and what she doesn't. Her parents aren't here. The closest person to her is Ron and the other one is Harry. If they believe this could help her, I stand behind their decision wholeheartedly."

The other Weasleys nodded along in agreement. The Order members reluctantly agreed.

"Does Dumbledore know about this?" someone asked. Harry tensed. Fuck. She completely forgot about Dumbledore. He was going to pop in any minute now and demand why no one told him Voldemort was going to be here and healing Hermione.

"I'm not sure," Harry spoke. "Have you guys told him?" she asked Mr. Weasley.

"I have not seen him since we decided this. Didn't you have a meeting with him recently?"

"Yes, but Voldemort crashed it and took me away. He's fine with me around you guys, but he can't stand Dumbledore."

Her locket fluttered on her chest. Harry frowned and looked down in surprise. It started to heat up.

"Well, this is just as well," she huffed, standing up. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked up at her. "I have to leave now."

"So soon?" Mrs. Weasley stood up too.

"If it was up to me, I'd stay longer," she said, once again sliding her hands into her gloves and putting on her cloak. "But it seems as though I'm being called back."

Harry said goodbye to everyone and Mrs. Weasley walked her to the door where she handed her several containers.

"What—" Harry didn't get to finish her breakfast, but what Mrs. Weasley packed was way more than what she would have eaten. "This is too much, Mrs. Weasley!"

"Take some back for him. He said he wanted to stay, it would be rude not to give him any," she said quickly, not meeting her eyes. "Take care of yourself, and visit again soon!"

Mrs. Weasley pressed a kiss to her cheek and then Harry was off on her way back home. Just as she stepped out of the wards and turned to Disapparate, she caught a glimpse of Dumbledore Apparating in.


"How do you do that?!" Harry exclaimed, inside the dining hall. Tom was sitting at the head of the table alone with papers surrounding him. He tapped his wand on a stack and all the papers on the table joined together in the air to create an airplane before flying upstairs. Harry unloaded the food.

"Do what?"

"You called me back just before Dumbledore arrived. He missed me by a second!"

"Oh, really?" he grinned, standing up and coming around to Harry's side.

"How is your timing always so perfect? Do you have a tracker on him?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing. My meeting ended and I wanted to see you," he answered, pulling her close to him.

Harry rested her hands on his chest and smiled up at him. Her gaze flicked down to his lips and she pulled him in for a soft kiss. She really missed this.

"Mm," she grunted softly, stepping back. "Mrs. Weasley sent food because you said you wanted some."

Tom looked down at the food packed in steaming containers with less favour then he did before.

"I'm good, thanks," he said.

"Did you even have breakfast yet? You were practically salivating at it at their house."

"Because I wanted to see if they'd really let me stay," he grinned.

Harry rolled her eyes. "You might as well try it. You might like it. Mrs. Weasley is the best cook. I didn't get to finish my breakfast, so I'm eating," she said, sitting down in her chair.

"I'll just get the house elves to make something."

"Sure, if you want to wait. But this food is ready."

Harry plucked some sausages and put them on her plate.

"Fine," Tom sighed. Harry grinned, conjuring a plate and loading it up with the steaming food. There was too much to eat so she plated her favourites and set it in front of him.

He looked down at the greasy food in distaste but cut into it anyway.

"This is actually not bad," he commented.

"Told you," she said.

"I've certainly eaten tastier food," he added, "but I can't seem to stop eating this. It's good in a different way."

"That's because it was cooked by a mother and you know she cared enough for you to have some," Harry explained. "Trust me, I know the feeling. I was just as touched the first time I had her food too. Aunt Petunia always cooked with hate. Until she made me do all the cooking."

Tom looked up at her with a small frown.

"What happened to your aunt and uncle?" he asked casually.

"The Order relocated them somewhere you wouldn't be able to find."

"I can find them if I want to," he said firmly.

"Why would you want to find them?"

"To make them pay for abusing you."

"Do you know how hypocritical that sounds?" she snorted. "You tried to kill me, did kill my parents, terrorized me as a child, and you're the reason I even ended up with them."

"I may be the reason you ended up with them, but that's not an excuse for them to treat you the way they did."

"No, I know, there's no excuse," Harry agreed. "But I'm over it and I've made peace with it. You will not hunt them down, it's not what I want. I told you I want no bloodshed."

He didn't respond, instead he put more food on his plate.


I've just found out that not all the formatting of the original document translated over here, specifically the line section breaks :( Sorry if it looked like different scenes were a part of the same one and caused any confusion. I'm adding them in now!

Thank you all for all your lovely comments! I'm so glad you're enjoying it, and I love hearing your predications too! 333