"Hello," I say a bit awkwardly.

It's difficult to figure out how to react when our wands aren't out. When I spent an hour getting ready to see him. What do you say to your enemy when you're their second? When you- I twist my ring around my finger.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort says.

The band of metal heats up from the force of my twisting.

I laugh. We've been standing at opposite ends of the Shrieking Shack, just staring at each other. It's different when it's real. His long fingers beckon me closer. I step forward.

I want to fall, just a little trip. Play it off as an accident. Twist my ankle. But I stand firm.

"Where has your proffered trust gone?" he asks.

I move closer to him still. He grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug.

What?

And we are gone with a sharp pop.

"Kidnapper!" I shout, when I've wiped my mouth and the world's stopped spinning.

Voldemort smiles at me. That feels weird to think. But he does it anyway.

"They told me never to talk to strangers, or I'd get stolen," I say.

"Quiet, brat," Voldemort says, but he's laughing.

"You hugged me," I say.

He looks at me for a long time and pulls me into a bedroom.

"Stay here," he says while walking away.

I twist my ring ferociously.

"You could feed me first," I quip.

He shuts the door.

When he returns he hands me a necklace.

"I can't eat that," I say.

He closes my fingers over it.

"My affections cannot be bought," I say.

He sighs. (Sighs!) I think that sometimes I forget my "enemies" are people. They sigh and roll their eyes. They have friends and enemies too. Things hurt them.

"What hurts you?" I ask.

"Put it on," he says.

I fasten it around my neck.

"S?" I say.

"Slytherin. Keep it on," he says.

"Why?" I ask.

He makes a sound that is nearly a growl.

"You don't listen, you're stubborn. Why can't you understand that you are mine?" Voldemort asks.

He presses his lips against mine. Those same fucking stars swirl in my head dangerously.

"Why is my life so complicated? Can't you just kill me? Why won't you kill me anymore?" I ask.

"Do you want me to kill you?" he asks.

I twist my ring and shrug.

"I don't remember what normal is. This seems like normal," I say.

"You're forbidden from thinking like that. I'm not going to kill you," he says, "Get in the fireplace."

Even though I know he means the floo, I start laughing.

"You need clothing. Narcissa and Bellatrix will assist you. Tonight you will be introduced to the Inner Circle," he says.

"No! No bloody way will I be going anywhere with a crazy person, Voldemort!" I say.

"Tom. You alone may call me Tom. You alone are my equal. Together we will win the war," he says.

I say nothing and glare.

"Get into the floo, Harry. You'll find many things Albus Dumbledore told you untrue," he says.

So I do.


"I've told you before, Harry. Call me Narcissa, or Cissa if you like. No need to be so formal," Mrs. Malfoy says.

I swing my feet against the chair and smile.

"If you're really sure," I say.

"You should be more formal," Lucius mutters.

"I don't have a title," I say.

After a significant amount of crucios and a well placed killing curse, what I did have was respect. The Death Eaters have all received the memo: Harry Potter is not to be mistreated.I don't mind Tom's cruelty on my behalf. It makes me feel secure in my choices. Learning the reason I'm never to remove my jewelry is that there are numerous protection and tracking charms on them didn't hurt either.

"Master Harry!" a house elf says, my house elf.

"That would do," Lucius says.

I make a face at him.

"Please don't," I say.

"Lord Master be needing you," the elf says.

"Thank you, Mischa," I say.

He blushes. I follow him into the room I share with Tom. I rest my hand on the couch that I commandeered after it became apparent that he wanted us to sleep in the same bed. He sees no problem with that. Fiance or not, I see very, very many.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Come here," he says.

I don't listen very well.

"What do you want?" I ask.

He glares at me. I sigh and sit beside him.

"You will no longer avoid the subject. Why won't you fight at my side?" he asks.

"I don't want to be a murderer? The people I once called friends, best friends, would be the first to go as a Muggleborn and a so called blood traitor?" I say.

"Magic is dying, my little Patronus. It's polluted by the Muggle world. Our traditions are dying out to make Mudbloods more comfortable. There are hardly any purebloods left, and they will soon be gone," he replies.

His little Patronus? If he didn't kill six people in front of me yesterday I would assume he was under a spell or had taken some brain addling potion.

"Why did you-what…. fuck, "I say.

I'm quite proud of my conversation ability.

"You are a light that chases away darkness. Namely insanity, "Tom says.

I twist my ring around my finger.

"Do you have to fix it in this way?"

He touches my arm. I shiver.

"What do you suggest I do? I see no other way," Tom says.

My suggestion? He wants my input?

"And why have you slept on that poorly conjured couch for a month instead of the bed? Surely it can't be comfortable," he says.

"Because, Tom," I say.

He pulls me against his chest and lays backwards onto the bed. He traps me with his legs. I don't think escape is a worry; however; my head is swimming and I may be physically unable to stand.

"Because I… because, "I fumble.

Because of this. Because of the dreams that float down the bond.

"Because I'd like to kiss you," I say.

I pause.

"Shit, that was out loud, wasn't it? "I say.

He chuckles and pulls my face against his.

"Tonight you will sleep here. I never had a bed like this in the orphanage I mentioned. A bed this large feels lonely," he says.

Again with that maddening vulnerability. I relax against his chest.

"Tom," I whisper, "I won't leave you lonely anymore."

He turns off the light without his wand and pulls the cover around us. It's such a soft bed, and he's right, I'm terrible at transfiguring couches. I close my eyes and just feel his long, long fingers twisting through my hair. And if a single moment made sense, it wouldn't be my life.