Avoiding Dumbledore wasn't easy. With Tom's help, however, it became easier.

Acting as the overbearing and controlling husband (which he actually was) he constantly got in between any plans or meetings Dumbledore tried to set up with Harry. Which she didn't mind because she was dreading having that conversation with Dumbledore.

Steadily, Harry and Tom fell into a balanced relationship. Balanced, as in she obeyed him and presented herself as a lovely lady when she was with him. And in turn, he trusted her with more and more freedom.

By June, she was visiting the Burrow at least once a week. Every once in a while, she caught up with her friends at Diagon Alley. She was a frequent shopper at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George hit a small decline when the price of dragon blood went up significantly and they were forced to use a substitute of lesser value.

"How do you feel about supporting small businesses?" Harry asked Tom one evening.

Their dinners were hardly ever awkward anymore. Occasionally when one of them had a bad day, it would be quiet. But Harry was slowly getting him to open up to her more, as it was him with the most bad days. At first, he was resistant, then she argued that she had nothing else to do all day so the least he could do was tell her about his. He doesn't want her to feel bored and trapped at home so much that she does something to endanger them, so he started talking to her about his day.

"What businesses?"

"Just all in general."

"How do you mean support? I'll not sponsor any of them financially, if that's what you mean. They'd have to offer me something extremely rare and hard to get for me to invest in a business."

Harry chewed on her bottom.

"What if they're really popular?" she added. "Like extremely. They just need a little help sometimes with buying some ingredients."

Tom set his fork down and pinned her with a flat look. "Why do I get the feeling that you've already done something?"

"Well, not all of our money is your money! I came with a lot, if you remember," she argued.

"I do remember, and I know it'll be a long time before we're close to your money running out. However, our assets have merged once we married. So it's my money too. What did you do?"

"Just invested in a small business," she mumbled.

"Harry."

"It's a small business! It's not some big company that's going to drain our money."

"How much?"

"Five hundred Galleons."

"And what is this business?"

"You would really like them. They're very smart."

"Who are they? What do they do?"

"They're brothers. They make things and sell them."

Tom's lips pursed in annoyance. "Do they have names? Do they know what they are making?"

Harry sighed. "Their names are Fred and George Weasley. They are brilliant wizards who think very innovatively. They supplied the Ministry with those Shield Cloaks, if you remember. And the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that we used to escape you guys a few times."

"The Weasley twins?" Tom growled. "You invested my money in a joke shop?"

"I thought we just agreed that the money was both of ours!"

"They're not even a small business—they're the cause of all the traffic at Diagon Alley!"

"Well, then you know it's a good business!"

Tom was not happy.

Harry had to make it clear to the twins that her involvement was to be kept secret and to write her name down as Harry Evans in their books just because if anyone caught wind of the fact that they were investing in a joke shop, and asked Tom about it, he would probably level their shop.

She did, however, start buying him some items from their shop. And she wasn't wrong when she said he would like them. Tom was intrigued and impressed with the twins' creativity and skill. He was especially impressed with the Portable Swamp, which Harry thought would stick around for longer than it did. Tom had inspected it, nodded in approval, then waved his wand and took it apart.

"How did you do that?" Harry gaped. It took Umbridge weeks to dismantle, and both McGonagall and Flitwick had to take it down together when she finally couldn't.

"Because whatever they are, they'll never be smarter than me," he rolled his eyes.

Harry came down the marble staircase when Tom emerged from one of the rooms to the entrance hall. He eyed her outfit, a white shirt tucked into a plaid skirt and black tights with black boots on.

"You look lovely," he commented, at the bottom of the steps. Harry beamed at him. His arm curled around her waist to pull her close to him and she felt a rush of butterflies swarm her insides. His forehead touched hers and, oh, this was one of the days where he was feeling extra affectionate.

She basked in the feeling, closing her eyes as he kissed her cheek and neck. Her hand rested on his chest, moving up to his shoulder.

Harry wanted to stay like this for the whole day, but she was already late in meeting her friends and he had a lot of work to do today.

"Tom," she pulled away from him reluctantly, "I should go now."

She pressed a couple soft kisses to his lips, to really show him how much she didn't want to leave him.

Tom sighed and curled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"What are you doing again?"

"Shopping."

"Hmm," he hummed. "You have enough money?"

"I'm taking fifty Galleons." That was more than enough to cover shopping, lunch and anything else they decide to stop for.

"Take another fifty," he insisted. Harry frowned in confusion. "Buy yourself some clothes fit for a warm climate."

"Tom," she said slowly, a grin stretching across her face. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," he said with a small smile, "you're getting your birthday trip early this year." He held her chin between the side of his finger and his thumb. "I have some important things to do between July and August so we won't be able to leave the country."

"Okay," she grinned, wrapping her arms around him even though she just detached herself with difficulty. "When are we going? Where are we going?"

"We'll leave on the eighteenth," he answered, also wrapping his arms around her again. "And stay for a week."

"Where?" she breathed.

"I thought I'd let you decide that," he said, smirking at the fact that he obviously made the right decision because she was so happy with it. "I can get us a Portkey anywhere you want, so name it."

There were about six country names on the tip of her tongue, but she held them.

"I will have to think about it," she said instead. This needed consideration and she always loved hearing Hermione's opinion.

They went to Portugal. It was sunny and beautiful and warm. There were so many magnificent landscapes and wonderful beaches. Harry was in utter bliss. In a little rented cottage with no one around but Tom, she was away from unexpected Death Eater guests, away from Barty's puppy-like behaviour, and the general threatening vibe that existed in their house.

Here there were no house elves so they either made their own food or got up earlier to have breakfast in a local cafe. For the first time ever, Harry was happy to wake up early just so she could get dressed, put on some makeup, style her hair, and walk down the quaint streets hand-in-hand with her husband.

Harry shopped more for him than she did herself that day in Diagon Alley. And she got the majority of their clothes from Muggle shops, which she didn't tell Tom.

He looked so handsome in a loose, white linen shirt. He refused to wear shorts but she managed to find trousers suitable for vacation that were still up to his standards.

He was pale, extremely so. Harry worried he'd burn under the sun but she forgot who she was worrying about when Tom cast her a judgemental look and flicked his wand to protect his skin.

The sun kissed her skin as Harry laid down at a breathtaking beach in the Algarve. She bought a bikini specifically for this occasion, having never been on a beach like this before. It was all everyone cracked it up to be. The sun was so much nicer here than in England. Harry covered her eyes with her sunglasses and closed them, while Tom entertained himself with some wizarding magazines like Arithmancy Today. Who the hell even wanted to read that?

"Tell me about your travels," Harry said suddenly, stretching her arm out to touch his knee. He paused his reading to look at her.

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Just share one of your stories?"

He was silent for a moment. Harry wondered if she overstepped by asking—perhaps he didn't like talking about his travels.

"You know that forest we went to in Albania?" he said after a while. Yes, she remembered that forest. He said it was full of vampires and she didn't care to stay long enough to find out if he was joking or not. It was also the same forest he hid in when he lost his body. But she didn't mention anything about that.

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, the first time I came across it was actually when…"

He had a very soothing voice. Why didn't Harry ever notice that before? It was so smooth, like honey. It was low and quiet. He rarely raised his voice, instead the world quieted to catch every word that slipped his lips. And he knew it.

Soon enough, Harry moved closer to him, to rest her head against his thigh. She took her sunglasses off and gave him her full attention as he spoke. He glanced down at her smugly. Fingers toying with the ends of her hair, he retold his adventures while she slowly began to relax so much that she dozed off.

She woke up to the sensation of strong hands running across her body, kneading her breasts.

"Tom," Harry groaned, eyes fluttering open. They were back in the cottage and Tom was lying on the bed next to her.

"Good, you're awake," he said, removing his hands. Harry turned in the bed and draped herself across him before he could get up. He froze for a moment. "It's dinner time."

"Okay," Harry mumbled, snuggling closer.

"We have a table at the fancy restaurant down the beach. I thought you wanted to go?" It was their last night here so Harry wanted a special dinner.

"Oh, I do!" Harry shot up like a bullet, hurrying into the bathroom to get ready for dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged in an evening dress with her makeup touched up.

Tom stared at her, transfixed. Harry couldn't lie, it felt really nice to be the only thing on his mind. He had no distractions here except for her.

He stood, offering her his arm. She took it and they made their way out.

It happened when Harry suggested they get butterbeer ice cream and Tom's nose puckered at the suggestion.

"It's actually really good, trust me," Harry insisted. She had tried some at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and they were serving them at this restaurant.

The waiter clearly didn't know who Tom was because he was rambling his mouth off to sell the ice cream.

"Just try it, please?" Harry asked, hoping they can get rid of the waiter before Tom loses it.

"Fine," he snapped. Harry grinned.

The ice cream was delicious, like she knew it would be. He was certainly surprised with how much he liked it.

"It's not bad," Tom commented.

"I know right," Harry agreed, instead of saying 'I told you so' (he didn't react well to that). "It shouldn't work but it does."

He watched, in amusement, as Harry devoured her serving.

"Do you want mine, too?" he asked, sliding his bowl across the table.

"Oh, no, that's okay. You should have it."

"It's alright, but I don't love it."

"Oh, well," Harry said, "if you don't want it."

He watched, again in amusement, as she carefully dug into his share too.

"You got some—" he reached over to wipe the bit of ice cream she got on the corner of her mouth before popping the tip of his finger in his mouth.

What he was hoping would elicit a suggestive reaction, instead got him a serious look.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing," she blinked quickly, looking down.

The walk back across the beach back to their cottage was a quiet one. Harry walked a foot away from and uncharacteristically didn't say anything.

She noticed Tom frown at her again before pulling her close to him where she should be and lacing their fingers.

"You're very quiet," he commented.

Harry squeaked in response.

"Fine," he sighed deeply. "We can stay another week if you want."

"What?" Harry gaped at him, stopping and turning to face him.

"That's why you're upset, isn't it?" he said, grabbing her other hand in his too. "I had a feeling you might be like this. I cleared my schedule for two weeks. We can stay one more week if you want."

Harry blinked at him.

She knew he didn't love it here as much as she did. She wanted to be by the beach, she wanted to eat local food, she wanted to traipse down the streets hand-in-hand to show off her handsome husband. He only indulged her because this was her birthday present and now he was extending it for another week because he thought that's what she wanted.

Which she does, but this wasn't the thought that was plaguing her.

The real issue on her mind was that she was happy.

For the first time in her entire life she was truly happy.

The threat on her life and her friends lives was lifted. People didn't expect her to do anything but survive marriage with Voldemort. That was a huge weight lifted off her shoulders, and what was even better: marriage to him was nice. Really nice. He was too busy for them to constantly be in each other's presence and get annoyed with the other. He was observant and considerate of her needs and wants. He trusted her (to be smart enough to not disobey or defy him). He was affectionate and loved to be touching her all the time—something she never knew she also loved. Sex with him was brilliant. He cured her best friend when no one else could. He let her choose their travel destination and all the activities they participate in (with very minimal complaining).

And now he was saying that this whole time he had cleared an additional week in his busy schedule (and he was a very busy man, running a country behind the scenes) just in case she wanted to stay longer.

A rush of emotions flowed through her.

Harry lifted herself on her tiptoes and pulled his head down to crush her lips against his. She hardly gave him a chance to breathe or understand what was happening because she was brimming with emotions and needed to kiss him.

Tom wrapped one hand around her waist and the other around her back, because he never pushed her away.

"We don't have to stay another week if you don't want to," she said eventually, face too close to his as she dragged her loving eyes across his features. "Whatever you want."

Hermione and Ron were getting married. She wanted to come over for dinner to personally invite Tom so he knew how grateful she was for his help.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Harry said right away.

"If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't even be getting married!" Hermione insisted.

"But Hermione… dinners at the Manor are not like they are at the Burrow. If he ends up having a bad day, we'll all be quiet and it'll be very tense."

"So let me know when is a good time to come and we'll come then."

Harry sighed. "What does Ron think about this?"

"He agrees with me."

"Because he actually agrees with you, or because you bullied him into agreeing with you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll see how Tom feels about it. He doesn't really like entertaining people. The only guests we ever have are his Death Eaters."

When she asked Tom about it, he said no.

Harry felt she owed it to Hermione to try a few more times. Unfortunately, she managed to catch Tom during one of his good moods the next time she asked, he did that thing where he looked into her eyes, stroked her cheek, and said that if this was what she wanted then one dinner wasn't too bad.

The 'L' word was still bouncing around in Harry's head. Did he even know? Did he know how doing things like this made her feel?

This was never supposed to happen. Yet it did, and the only downside she managed to see about this was that it gave Tom more power over her. It was no secret she was trying to take down as much of the power he had over her. And it made her wonder if he did know what he was doing.

Did he know playing his cards right was making her truly love him? Was that why he did it? He was used to getting people to adore him so they follow him unconditionally, but she never saw him put as much effort into her as he did for others. He also never got anything out of it as much as he did with Harry.

Was that not a relationship then? Him putting more effort into it then his other relationships, the rewards being bigger than all the others as well. They didn't hate each other anymore, though there were the occasional incidents that made them scream at each other.

Whatever it was, as long as it was their own, Harry was fine with it. They always drew their own path with everything they did. This relationship did not fit into any pre-existing mold.

"Welcome!" Harry said to her two best friends in the entrance hall. She had the door open on it's own for them so Hermione didn't have to see the house-elves.

"Wow, Harry, your house is beautiful," Hermione said in awe. Ron nodded in agreement, taking in the details of the inside.

"Come, I'll give you guys a tour," Harry said excitedly. The house had changed since she moved in. Harry didn't have much to do all day, so she made slight improvements. Fixing broken lanterns, cleaning up rusted metal, brighten some of the walls. It was still a dark manor with certain elements that unnerved people, but that was because it sometimes acted as Tom's base of operations and he would not agree with holding Death Eater meetings in a house that looked like Candy Land.

"The Manor used to belong to Slytherin's great-grandson or something," she explained as they walked down the hall of portraits. "It was passed down his line for generations until it ended with this man here," she pointed to Horatio's painting, "who never had a family. After that it was left abandoned for I don't know how long until Tom found it during the First War."

Hermione and Ron eyed the last painting apprehensively. It was the one of Harry and Tom, where she was smiling wide and occasionally looking up at him. He was scowling and mumbling under his breath.

"You look so beautiful," Hermione said in a slightly choked voice.

"Thank you," Harry gulped, getting the feeling that they thought it was odd that she looked so happy around Voldemort. But Harry was happy. She was happy now and she was happy even in that painting because it was one of the first times Tom acquiesced to her wishes.

"Right, let me show you the library," Harry said, moving on. Hermione found the library massively impressive. She was a little unnerved by all the books on Dark magic, but knowledge was knowledge and books were books so she still wanted to get her hands on a lot of them.

Harry showed them other rooms on the second floor, caring not to take them up to the third. It was where their bedrooms were and Tom's study. They couldn't go into Tom's study, obviously, and Harry was not keen on showing them her bedroom that clearly hasn't been lived in for months and was gathering dust.

The tour ended at the dining hall, just in time for dinner.

"You have house-elves?" Hermione asked, as they walked to the table filled with food.

"Yes, and before you ask, I do pay them wages and have offered them days off. They agreed to take the wages if it meant they don't have to take holidays which I agree to but the offer is still up if they ever want it."

Hermione nodded, a small smile on her face.

"I think Tom doesn't know about the wages, though, so it'd probably be best if we don't bring it up again," she added quietly. Ron looked at her curiously. "What?"

"I didn't know you called him 'Tom'," he said.

"Of course I call him Tom, he's my husband. I'm not going to call him 'Voldemort'," she scoffed.

"I think what Ron means," Hermione said, as they took their seats, "is that you two are more comfortable with each other than we expected." Her eyes suddenly flicked up behind Harry and both of them tensed. It's all Harry could do not to groan when Tom came up behind her, put one hand on her shoulder and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek, while he watched her friends for their reactions.

"Hello," Hermione said quickly. Tom eyed them both critically as he took his seat and nodded at them. "Y-you have a lovely home."

"Thank you," he spoke smoothly, "though I must give all the credit to Harry."

"I don't think you've ever officially met," Harry said nervously. "But you know my friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."

"Congratulations on your engagement," Tom said flatly.

Neither Ron nor Hermione were sure if he was being polite or sarcastic or how to respond.

"Th-thank you," Hermione mumbled. "Erm, and I wanted to thank you also for curing my illness. I'm truly very grateful—"

"I know," Tom cut her off, "Harry's told me."

"Of course," Hermione said quickly. "I-I just wanted to thank you personally. You didn't have to do it and it means a lot that you—"

"I didn't do it for you," he said, light amusement in his eyes.

Harry gripped her fork tightly in her hand, glaring at him. Meanwhile Hermione was realizing why Harry wanted to avoid this dinner.

"Right," she whispered, looking down at her plate.

"Could you not be so rude?" Harry hissed at him. Ron and Hermione's eyes darted to her in alarm.

"No, he's not being rude—" Hermione said quickly, not wanting to start a scene, but she was ignored.

"How am I being rude?" Tom raised his eyebrows, one finger pressed into his cheek. "I haven't pointed my wand at her, called her a slimy bitch, or stormed out yet."

"You're still on about that?" Harry huffed in annoyance. "That was ages ago. And if you care to remember, we made a deal which I already complied with. We're even."

Tom didn't respond, instead he flicked a finger and the roast turkey sliced itself, a portion floating over to his plate. Harry followed after, but made sure their guests' plates were filled first.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," she said in a calm voice. "Anyway, how have you been feeling?"

"Almost completely normal," Hermione squeaked, picking up her fork. "Thank you."

"Ron, how's Ginny?" Harry asked, determined to start some type of conversation. These were her best friends, she wasn't going to make them feel unwelcome in her home. Harry tried so hard to be the perfect wife Tom expected her to be in front of his people, the least he could was not hold a grudge against her for a dinner gone wrong with her godfather's murderer.

"Doing great," Ron responded, a voice stronger than Hermione's. "Her training starts in three weeks."

"That's amazing!" Harry smiled.

"What training?" Tom asked, making them all tense again.

Ron met his gaze nervously, his eyes flicking down before he spoke. "She's joining the Holyhead Harpies as a Chaser."

"Quidditch player?" Tom raised his eyebrows. "What about yourself?"

"I've applied to the Auror Academy, but the training won't start until September."

Tom hummed in response. Harry gulped at Ron's answer. They had planned to attend the Academy together, but after Hermione's incident and the height of the war, it was not doable. Then Harry got married and Ron had Hermione to take care of those dreams dissipated. Now, it was back on the table for Ron.

"And yourself?" Tom asked Hermione, but he was looking down at his plate as he said so. Hermione stared blankly for a moment, not sure if he was speaking to her (but who else would he be speaking to?). Harry widened her eyes and nodded, to indicate that she was to answer.

Harry had the horrible feeling that Tom was treating her like this because she was a Muggleborn. Ever the observant girl, it seemed Hermione noticed it too.

"Oh, erm, I've just got a job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," she said proudly.

"Why that department?" Tom didn't bother hiding how useless he thought that job was.

Nervously at first, then slowly getting comfortable as she always did when she spoke facts, Hermione explained her mission to grant magical creatures more rights. It was something Tom completely disagreed with, which made sense because he believed himself to be superior than most wizards, forget about creatures.

What happened next was a startling debate that got progressively more hostile—one that had both Harry and Ron on edge, ready to jump up and cast protection spells.

And then, after Hermione was almost red in face arguing centaur rights, Tom smirked and sat back.

"You are certainly very determined, Miss Granger, I'm going to have to keep an eye on you," he said.

What did that mean? Was he going to kill her if she gave too many creatures rights? Harry frantically looked between Hermione and Tom. Her best friend was wondering the same thing, and wondering if it was a bad idea to tell him all this.

"Oh, no, erm, you don't have to do that," she said quietly. "I barely know what I'm doing."

"On the contrary," Tom continued, "I'd think your intellect and drive is better suited for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Harry let out a small breath of relief.

"Oh," Hermione blinked. "Thank you. I was hoping to build my way up there. Erm, Harry… What about you? Are you thinking of working?"

Tom tensed, glancing at Hermione coldly. This made Harry tense up again too. Why couldn't Hermione just leave some things alone?

"Not at the moment," Harry said, aware of Tom watching her critically. "I'm happy with how everything is right now."

And she was, she was really happy. She did not need Hermione coming here and making a mess of things because she believed Harry deserved more rights and would force them down her throat, just like she did with house elves. It took her so long to get to this level of happy balance with Tom, and Hermione was shaking the ground and in risk of destroying that if he believed that Harry was putting up a front.

"What about the—" Hermione began, pausing momentarily as Harry glared at her to shut up.

"Hermione, you barely touched your food, have some of the potatoes," Harry insisted, accidentally making a few pieces of potatoes fly into her mouth and forcing her to be quiet.

Tom was looking at Harry suspiciously.

"No, let her speak," he said, waving his hand and clearing Hermione's airway. He slowly turned his gaze to Hermione. "What about what?"

"It's nothing," Harry said.

Tom's piercing gaze made Hermione buckle under the pressure and she said, "I was only wondering about the Auror Academy. Harry has always wanted to attend the Academy and become an Auror, too."

Great.

Harry's jaw locked and she gripped her cutlery tightly as Tom's gaze washed over her again.

"Is that so?" Tom murmured. "Harry, you still wish to become an Auror?"

"No," she said quickly, too quickly.

"Don't lie to me," he said coldly.

"I don't!" she insisted. His lips pursed in annoyance.

"Then what is it you want to do?"

"Nothing—"

"But Harry, you always talk about being bored all the time," Hermione said quietly, thinking she was still helping. "If he's open to the idea, then maybe you can work—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, will you please just shut up!" Harry snapped, rising and throwing her napkin on the table. Tom's fury was mounting, she could feel it through their Horcrux connection. It was similar to that time he blew up because she let him do anything to her in bed for his birthday and he thought she was setting him up to look abusive.

Tom hated Harry leaving the house, but what he hated more than that was caging her like her Muggle relatives did. He loved knowing she was safe in the Manor that he warded himself, and he loved coming home to a wife happy to see him because she didn't see a lot of other people. It meant she looked forward to seeing him and that was the best he could afford. His wife was a very loving person and he was a man who could offer her everything except love.

"It's getting late, perhaps we should leave," Ron said quickly, getting up from his chair and urging Hermione up too.

"Well, as long as you're leaving," Tom muttered, also throwing his napkin on the table as he strode out of the room.

"Harry—I'm so sorry," Hermione said, her eyes misting. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I did!"

"I'll walk you out," Harry muttered, walking out of the room. Hermione apologized a few more times on the way out. Harry walked them all the way to the gates and outside of it, to ensure they were away from his wards before she spoke her mind. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Harry, please—"

"No, Hermione! You don't get it! I—do you know how fucking hard it was for me to get to where I am right now?!" Harry exclaimed.

"You're shut up inside a house because he won't let you leave—that's no way for anyone to live, much less someone who grew up like that!" Hermione insisted. And maybe she was right. Maybe Harry should listen to her. But she was happy. What she had right now worked—why should she mess that up?

"I don't care about that—I'm happy!" Harry shouted. Ron and Hermione blinked at her outburst. "I know you all think I'm miserable with him and I'm only putting a brave face and sure I was at the beginning, but now I'm happy! Do you know how fucking hard it is to make a marriage with Voldemort happy?! But I managed! That painting you saw—it was because I wanted it! Calling him Tom—it's because I want to and I am comfortable! This locket—he gave it to me and I put his fucking picture inside it! We kiss, we fuck, we do everything a regular husband and wife do because we can! He cares about me—"

"I'm not saying he doesn't," Hermione said slowly, "but we were talking about this and we think you should consider that maybe he's only pretending to care so you listen to him!"

"So what if he does?!" Harry threw her arms up.

"So you deserve better than that!"

Harry pressed her shaking, manicured fingers to her eyelids and took a deep breath.

"Have you considered the fact that maybe I know that?" she said quietly. "Have you at all considered the fact that I know exactly what he's like and sitting around at home being the perfect little housewife for him is what makes him so agreeable to me? Knowing I'm bored and scared that I'll go find something to do is what gets him to open up to me, to talk to me? And how I need that if I'm going to have any part in how he runs our world? Which was the whole point of why I even married him?! You think I married Voldemort of all people because I wanted love?"

"No, I-I don't," Hermione mumbled, reaching out to Ron.

"You have the privilege of marrying someone you love and who loves you," Harry choked out, tears streaming down her face. "And I'm so happy for you two. But I don't have that and I never did. My whole life was leading up to being hunted and killed by him, I had no chance of a future with a husband but now suddenly I do! I know everyone thinks it's so tragic I had to end up with him, but I'm able to do so much more now than I ever was in the Order and it just happens that me and him are good at compromising and meeting each other's needs! He showers me with presents and jewelry because that's what he thinks a good husband does and he wants to be a good one for me! He cares about how comfortable I am—did you know for months he only came into the Manor to sleep because he thought I wouldn't want to see him? He's considerate and he doesn't shy away from my need for affection, and that's already so much more than I expected from him! I don't care about being an Auror when I have what I have, I don't care about staying inside for long periods of time, I've reached a balance with him that works for us."

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione was crying too now. She threw her arms around her. "I didn't think about any of that I'm sorry, I'm so stupid."

"I'm happy," Harry repeated, pulling away and looking at them. "And I know that sounds horrible because what kind of a person is happy with Voldemort, but I am. And I like my life like this, it's already way better than every other scenario I imagined growing up. Just please accept the fact that I know what I'm doing and it's good for me and my life has never been better."

Hermione apologized several more times as did Ron, even though his behaviour through dinner was better than hers. Harry wiped her tears away and said goodbye, heading back inside the house and trying not to think about how Tom clearly noticed she left but didn't bother to call her back through the locket.

"Tom?" Harry gently opened the door to his study, where he was writing furiously.

"What?" he snapped.

"Can we talk?"

"No, I'm busy. Why don't you go back to your friends, as I'm sure you enjoy their company far more than this empty house?"

"It's not empty when you're here," Harry said, walking closer to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Your presence brings a lot of energy into the house."

"I said I'm busy," he snapped, shrugging her hand off. Harry's heart froze and shrivelled up, like her fingers as she retracted her hand. He never pushed her away. She did it to him a few times and she wasn't sure if it felt the same to him, but this was like a bucket of ice washing over her.

"What are you writing?" Harry asked suddenly, her eyes flicking over the letter in front of him and catching her name on it.

"Writing to the DMLE. They oversee the Auror Department and since I can't bully Shacklebolt, I'll bully Lucius instead to list you as a student enrolling in the Academy. You'll start training this September along with your friend—"

The letter burned and turned into a pile of ash under Harry's intense stare.

"I'm not going," she stated.

He looked up at her. "Then what the fuck do you want from me?" he hissed. "I've done everything I can to make you happy here. You wanted to go on vacation, we took it. We did all the stupid things you wanted to do and ate all the junk you wanted to. I let you go out to your friends regularly, I treat you better than Nott treats his wife! I—"

Harry couldn't take it anymore. "I know," she said, cupping his cheeks. He had an angry pout on his face that she was sure if he knew about, he'd be even more annoyed. "I know all this!"

"Then what more do you want? You're going around telling people how bored you are in this marriage—and I told you it's not safe for you out there, especially not with this department!"

"I don't want anything else," she implored. "This marriage is the farthest thing from boring, and I'm very happy right now. I don't want to join the Aurors. I used to, but not anymore."

"Don't lie to me," he spat, "I saw into your mind. You want to join them."

"Fine then maybe a part of me wishes I could join along with Ron. For years that was my ambition. Because I never thought I could have this," one of her hands ran up to card through his hair as she stood between his legs. His grey eyes scowled at her distrustfully. "Tom Riddle, you are the best and the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I can't imagine being as fulfilled with anyone else as I am by you. There's nothing more exhilarating than you and this marriage, it's the most alive I've felt in years. I like waiting for you to come home, I like it when you take me to our bed and ravish me," she grinned lightly, "I like that we do it all over again when we wake up. I like it when you can't keep your hands off me, or when you come home and I know you've been thinking about me all day. I think about you all day too," she admitted.

His gaze softened slightly and he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. Pulling her close so she sat on his lap, straddling him, he smirked, "Go on."

Harry smiled too. "I like it when you try things because I said so, like the butterbeer ice cream. I like that you were considerate enough to wait for me to come to you for our consummation. I like that you introduced me to a whole new world of pleasure, and some pain. I like that you were ready to extend our vacation because it was something you thought I would want. I don't mind being a little bored during the day. Maybe one day I'll find something else that works for both of us. But right now, I'm counting my lucky stars that I ended up being this happy with you. And if you still don't believe me then look into my mind again."

Tom's gaze flicked from her lips to her wide, sincere eyes.

I love you.

He froze. "You love me?" he repeated, startling.

Harry's heart was beating rapidly, having bared herself in the most honest way to someone who was not the best at handling emotions.

She couldn't bring herself to say anything more, and hoped that her lack of denial was answer enough.

Meanwhile for Tom… well this was one of his worst fears.

His face turned blank, and Harry's heart that had just been refilled with love, shriveled up again, shattered into a million pieces and disintegrated to dust.

"Oh," she whispered softly, carefully lifting her hands off his face.

Alarmed, Tom tightened his grip on her.

"Don't go," he said quickly. Harry watched him apprehensively. "I can't give you what you want," he admitted quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't," he swallowed, annoyed with having to say it out loud. "Love. I can't."

Harry blinked at him in confusion.

"Don't be upset," he scowled.

"I'm not," Harry shook her head. "I-I didn't expect you to be able to…" His eyes flicked up to hers again. "I mean you're not exactly the best example of a loving person, so-so I never expected you to say it back or anything."

"Then what do you expect?" he asked, still scowling. It was best Harry made her expectations clear to him now.

"Have you not listened to a word I just said?" Harry huffed. "I've already told you I'm happy. And I've told you everything I liked and if you already forgot, well, that's on you because I'm not repeating it."

"You don't expect me to love you back?"

"I think what you already do is enough," she reassured, running her thumb across his cheekbone. Bending closer, she pressed their lips together in a kiss that was somehow more vulnerable than their first one.

Harry was fine with this. She was.

She had always been the more emotionally mature one, she understood feelings better than he did. Growing up in a cold, loveless house, she knew this was the farthest thing from it. Whether Tom needed time or courage to admit he loved her too, she would give it to him. Because she saw the signs of his love for her, no matter the size, and it was undeniable.