"There are different kinds of darkness," Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. "There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful." I pictured each. "There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good."― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

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"Shall we give this another try, or would you prefer to just stay here and I'll find something to pass the time doing here instead?" he asked sarcastically and leaned against the wall outside the cell, the warning clear in his voice. The wards were shimmering so slightly in reaction to his presence as usual. He could feel them just as easily as he could feel his own magic. He could tweak and change them as he wanted without much fuss.

Voldemort was in his usual corner with his blue blanket wrapped around him. Harry wondered if it had become some sort of security blanket for the man from the way he refused to let it go, not that Harry had tried to take it from him. Perhaps he should after the lasted infraction, but he hadn't. He could allow the man a blanket he supposed. There was after all still nothing else in the cell. Although, there was an empty bowl on the floor which told Harry that Voldemort at least had eaten. He assumed the lessons of being force fed had brought the point home since Voldemort rarely tried to starve himself afterwards. Harry wasn't interesting in him dying, not yet anyhow.

Although he had kept the man alive much longer than he had planned. He had planned to get his revenge and then kill him, but even after everything Voldemort had done, the thought of killing someone in cold blood, even the one who had killed his parents, didn't sit right with him. As the year had past, he had enjoyed having an outlet for his anger, for the dark beast that the war had given birth to, but as time passed even the dark beast seemed to have settled and Harry wasn't as bloodthirsty anymore as he had been six months ago. It had been fifteen months since he had brought the unconscious dark lord to this unplottable house and put him in the cell, and as he looked in on him now, he wondered what to do about the man.

He couldn't turn him in, not as the world thought he was dead. He couldn't kill him, or he could, but as he just realised, he didn't want to. Harry sighed and decided to push the problem out of his mind for the time being.

Voldemort had his head lowered and seemed to have decided not to answer. It wasn't something unusual.

Harry stepped through the wards and approached him. He could see Voldemort trying to not react to his presence, but it was easy to see how he tensed up as Harry came closer. There were still traces of bruises on his face from where Harry had backhanded him, and around his neck. Harry knew his back probably looked even worse from the bull whip he had used on him in anger. He had drawn blood when he had strung the man up and beaten him to the point where he passed out. Thinking back he felt a slight feeling of guilt at his action but considering what Voldemort had tried to do it didn't last long.

He knew that letting Voldemort out of the cell had been a risk, which was why he had changed the coding on the bracelets to avoid the man being able to hurt him. The feeling of betrayal though when he had brought Voldemort back up a second time and the man had tried to knock him unconscious with a heavy lamp had been enough for him to slightly lose control. He had dragged the man back to the cell and after letting him know just how much of a bad idea that had been, and then left him alone. On the logical side of things, he guessed that he couldn't blame the man for trying to escape somehow.

"Well, do you want to stay here, in which case I'll find a way to entertain myself on your expense, or shall we try again?" Quite frankly he couldn't understand why Voldemort wouldn't want to be let back up upstairs, but then again, he had never understood how the man's mind worked.

Voldemort still kept quiet.

Harry was tempted to hex him for not responding, but reigned the thought in. As he reached Voldemort, he used his hand to lift his chin. Voldemort allowed the gesture but kept his eyes on the floor. Strange, Harry thought. Normally Voldemort had no problem letting his feelings show through his eyes, especially since he was starting to realise that it wasn't apricated when done verbally.

"Tom?" he said, letting a note of steel slip into his tone. If the man wanted to stay in the cell, then, Harry would let him.

"Does it matter?" Voldemort asked. The tone took Harry by surprise. It sounded so resigned, defeated and something he couldn't identify. He frowned. This wasn't like the man.

"Not really for me, but it does matter to you," he answered, drawing the words out slightly.

"Why haven't you just killed me?" The question took Harry by surprise. Considering how afraid of death Voldemort was it came as a surprise that he would bring up the question. Deciding that attack was the best defence he answered. "Would you prefer me to?"

Voldemort shifted, looking very uncomeatable. The emotions that passed over his face passed to quickly for Harry to get a real reading. The man adverted his eyes and pulled the blanket even closer. "No," the word was almost whispered. Harry nodded. "Then would you prefer to stay here?"

Again, Voldemort shifted. His eyes rose briefly before going back down to the blanket and he toyed with a corner of it. "I assume there is a price?" How Slytherin of him Harry thought. He had not planned on setting a price, but when the man asked…

"A simple one," he answered, feeling generous. "Kneel". It should really be an easy one. He had made Voldemort kneel several times during his captivity and out of all the request, or rather demands, it was the one Voldemort mostly agreed to in order appease Harry. Still, the request made Voldemort tense up even more this time. Harry waited. After a few minutes, Voldemort seemed to have reached a decision because he shifted from his sitting position to a kneeling once. Harry nodded, mostly to himself. "Good. Come on".

He turned and left the wards. Then he waited a few meters down the hallway until Voldemort dared to approach the wards and come through them. Harry could understand his uncertainty as normally the wards would hurt him if he tried to approach them, and he had no reason to trust Harry not to try and trick him into walking into them. Finally, he stepped through and slowly walked down the hallway.

He led the man back upstairs and past the hallway where he had tried to knock Harry unconscious the last time and into the bedroom they had been in the last time. Just like last time he held out a robe that he had left lying on the bed and nodded towards the bathroom. "Do you want a shower?"

Voldemort nodded, not meeting his eyes as he reached out a hand and took the robe. Turning towards the bathroom. Harry stopped him. "And what do you say?" He asked, lifting his eyebrows. The man could afford to show some manners after all.

A muscle in Voldemort's jaw ticked. "Thank you, sir"." Harry was almost impressed it was possible to force such a coherent sentence out through clenched teeth, not to mention the 'sir' Voldemort had tacked on for the first time. He smiled and let Voldemort escape into the bathroom.

Harry sat on the bed and looked around the room. It was a spacious bedroom with a double bed, a sitting group in front of the fireplace, a desk and bookshelf in corner and large windows let the autumn light in. If was decorated in neutral colours and the most colour there was in the room was a large green plant by the door that led to a living room slash library. That room had double doors that opened out into a small terrace and the garden.

With a flick of his wand, he lit the fireplace. The evening was approaching, and it would get chilly soon, the fire would help with that. He then went into the living room and lit the fire in there as well. After leaving the room he found his notes in the bag he had brought for the weekend and took them back to the living room. He settled at the desk in the room and started working on the latest notes for the upcoming Wizengamont meeting.

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It took a while for Voldemort to come into the room. Harry wasn't surprised. He had half expected Voldemort to fall asleep on the bed in the next room.

Voldemort stepped slowly into the room; his arms wrapped around himself. His hair wet from the shower and slightly messy. Deciding to ignore him, Harry continued to revise his notes, chewing on the tip of the quill he was using. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Voldemort move over to the open doors that led out onto the terrace. He reached out a hand, probably unsure if the wards were up or not.

"It's open," Harry said, looking up. Voldemort turned his head slightly and nodded. He seemed to hesitate though. "You can go out if you want," Harry added. It wasn't surprising that Voldemort hesitated. The whole situation was very new for both. But in the end, Voldemort nodded again and stepped out. Harry could hear the sounds of his feet as they moved around.

Putting down the quill he rose and wandered over to the door. Leaning against the frame he crossed his arms as he watched Voldemort do his usual walk around the garden, taking in everything. It was one of those beautiful, last summer days, with a completely blue sky. A light breeze came through the garden, making Voldemort's robes and hair move with it.

"Where are we?" Voldemort asked, letting his hand roam over the trunk of the large oak tree in the middle of the garden. He tilted his head upwards and closed his eyes, enjoying the sun.

"Ireland," Harry answered, coming out onto the terrace and taking a seat in one of the chairs there. "I bought it just after the war." It felt strange to have normal conversation with the man who killed his parents and so many others.

Voldemort nodded.

"I assume you are hungry?"

"I assume there is a price."

At that, Harry actually laughed. Apparently Voldemort wasn't as broken and beaten as he appeared sometimes. At the sound Voldemort opened his eyes and turned his head towards Harry, he looked slightly surprised as if Harry's laughter had been the last thing he had expected to hear.

"Yes, there is, pet," Harry said making a gesture towards the floor. He could see the slight flinch that Voldemort tried to cover up but failing at. Harry waited. The man would either comply and come, or he would refuse, and Harry would let him starve and eat the meal himself. While Voldemort tried to decide what to do, Harry re-entered the house and walked over to the table and chairs that was set so that they were looking out towards the garden. Settling himself on one of the chairs, he pulled the tray over and cancelled the stasis charm he had put on hit. Not that it was necessary as the tray consisted of cured meat, cold cuts, cheese, bread and fruits, but he didn't want the apple slices to get brown.

Picking at the meat he looked up as Voldemort came in. Harry could hear his stomach growl at the sight of the very much more appealing looking food than he was normally fed. Harry could count on one hand the times he had offered Voldemort something better than the porridge that he was fed daily to keep him alive. Deciding that he didn't care either way as to what Voldemort decided to do, he simply summoned the Daily Prophet and started reading the front page while continuing to eat.

Voldemort seemed to have decided to go back out, but then he suddenly sighed. "As you wish," he murmured. The tone sounded completely subdued, resigned and defeated and so different from the tone Voldemort had used just a couple of minutes before.

Harry had to wonder which was the act, and he suspected it was the first. Looking up, he watched as Voldemort came over and then gracefully knelt beside him. Harry nodded to himself, good.

Reaching out he carded his hand through the wet locks and smiled as Voldemort for once manged not to flinch away at his touch. Removing his hand, he picked up a piece of bacon and held it out. Voldemort stared at it for a couple of seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he was second guessing his own decision, but in the end, he took the food from Harry's hand carefully.

He had bitten Harry once, but Harry assumed the punishment that followed would deterge the man from trying that again as the incident had been almost a year ago now. Time did fly.

The meal passed quietly. Harry alternated between turning a page, feeding himself and Voldemort, who in turn seemed to appreciate the silence. When the tray had been emptied Harry pushed it away and let his hand card through Voldemort's hair once more. He noticed a slight tremor going through him, and was he swaying? Frowning, Harry used his hand to lift his head. Voldemort blinked and Harry could see the complete exhaustion in his eyes. Apparently, Voldemort was pushing his boundaries further than he should.

"Come on, you need sleep," Harry said, letting go of his chin and standing up. He walked towards the bedroom. Turning once he reached the door, he was surprised to find Voldemort still on the floor, a look of fear passed over the handsome face before disappearing.

"I…," Voldemort started, not looking like he knew what he wanted to say. Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?" He prompted, letting some of his impatience slip into the tone.

"Please, can I just sleep here?" The question was asked so softly that Harry had to make an effort to understand it. Then it clicked. Of course, Voldemort assumed he was being returned to the cell downstairs. Harry sighed, and Voldemort flinched. Turning slightly, he let his wand fall into his hand from the holster that was attached to his forearm.

"Accio," he said pointing the wand at the door. Around a minute later the blue blanket from the cell zoomed into his hand.

"Come now," he said to Voldemort and went into the bedroom. "The bed will be more comfortable than the floor of the living room, don't you think?" he called into the room next door. He put the blanket on the bed and moved the grey covers to the side. It was still a couple of hours until the sun went down, so he pulled the curtains shut to block out the sunlight.

When he turned after closing the curtains, he found Voldemort standing in the doorway. His face was caught somewhere between hopefulness and wariness. He probably thought the question was a trick one and that he shouldn't interpret it the way he had. His eyes zeroed in on the blue blanket and his hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out to grab it.

Harry ignored him in favour of tossing two more logs of wood into the fireplace. It made the fire crackle and rise as it attacked the new source of energy. Standing back up he walked over to the door that led from the bedroom and into the hallway. Reaching the door he turned again, addressing Voldemort. "I've changed the wards. You have free reign over this room, the bathroom and the living room next door. You cannot go out into the garden, but you can open the doors if you want. I expect you not to break any of the things here, if you do, we do have an alternative room for you downstairs that you are very familiar with. Have I made myself clear?"

As expected, Voldemort nodded. Slowly walking over and picking up the blue blanket as he sat on the bed, a confused expression on his face. "Yes, but why?"

Harry just shrugged. "Do I need a reason?" Actually, he had his reasons, but he saw no need to share those with his captive. He let his magic reach out and watched as the wards rose, along the boundaries of Voldemort's new cell.