Warning: Slash (male/male) Don't like, don't read.
Disclaimer Notice: Don't own anything you recognize, and I don't get paid for this either.
Guide: Thinking / "Talking" / "Parseltongue" (I think that's it)
Chapter 3 – Questions, Concerns, and….Massages?
Snape was extremely tired, as it was well past 1 in the morning, but he knew that he had to talk to Dumbledore about this latest development.
He knocked and a tired voice answered through the door. "Enter." Which he did. "Severus, I assume you know something of what is happening at present?" Dumbledore asked, a deep frown marring his features. Severus nodded. "Very well, you may sit down."
The Potions Master took the invitation. "Where do I begin?"
"May I suggest the beginning?"
So, Severus told the Headmaster everything from the time he had left to now. Potter's abuse by his relatives was also included.
"I should have known about that, but he never said…well, it is no9w in the past. The Dursley family will be brought to justice, and until then, let us concentrate on Harry's future." Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Do you think he will be safe?"
Snape let out a heavy sigh of his own. "The bond has to be completed through sexual intercourse, if not, then they will both die. Time is running out for them." He was silent for a moment, thinking on his next words. "You ask whether Potter will be 'safe?' From the way the Dark Lord was acting I think he will be, but I also know that the Dark Lord has no wish to die. It is quite possible that he will have to force Potter into something the boy will want no part in."
Dumbledore nodded. "I think because of the bond, Voldemort is changing…"
"Changing?"
"He is beginning to understand love."
Snape mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "Impossible."
"Not impossible. I have heard of this ritual before. It was created to settle wars, and it worked." The Headmaster rose from his seat. "I will wait for Voldemort's letter. In the meantime, I believe you deserve a break."
XXX
Harry could hear footsteps clunking on the floor, pacing back and forth. It was giving him a headache. He didn't know where he was or why he was there, but he remembered being stopped by someone when he had been running away from the Dursleys, that was the reason why he was pretending to be asleep. And he didn't think he could say anything without crying out in pain.
All of a sudden the pacing stopped and a voice said, "Finally, you are awake."
How had the stranger known he was awake? Harry's heart began to beat wildly in his chest. Voldemort could feel his panic and hated the emotion. He sat down on the edge of the bed wanting to touch him but knowing, and loathing, he his mate would flinch. The Dark Lord knew it would be hard for both of them: Harry being scared, and Voldemort trying to be patient.
Harry opened his eyes to see a twenty-five year old man with hair as dark as his own and scarlet eyes with slits for pupils…that was as far as he had gotten before he found himself trying to rise. A firm hand was placed on his shoulder to keep him still. He recoiled more from the contact than the pain it instilled.
"Please, don't touch me." Came the whispered plea. The weight left his shoulder, although rather reluctantly. He took a few deep breaths before he continued. "I think I know who you are, but I should be dead." Harry was extremely worried. Those eyes he knew belonged to Voldemort. Why wasn't he dead? Had he decided to keep him alive and torture him before killing him?
Voldemort frowned trying to find the words. "Harry, something…has happened." He felt the emotion of fear once again gripping his mate's chest. He reached over to the nightstand and picked up a very battered book and opened it to a certain page. Then he held it up for Harry to read. "This is the ritual I used in the graveyard to get my body back." He pointed to a place on the page. "Read from here to," He pointed to another place. "Here."
Harry, with some difficulty due to the inflammation and bruises, took the book a little warily and began to read.
Voldemort felt anger and panic start to overtake Harry as his eyes moved down the page. Then Harry's eyes rose to meet his. "Get out." He whispered in a dangerous voice.
"Harry, you must understand - ."
"GET OUT!"
All of a sudden, Voldemort felt an invisible force hit him in the chest and throw him out of the room. Seconds later the door had slammed shut and an audible click had followed.
This time it was Voldemort's turn to panic. He stood and dashed to the door sure enough, the door was locked. He pulled out his wand and performed the Alohomara charm, then tried the handle. He was shocked to find that the door had remained locked. He then tried every spell known to wizard kind that would open the door…None worked.
He is powerful. Voldemort thought, surprised. I'd best start pleading with him then…
"Harry, open the door. You are in no condition to be by yourself – ." This continued for some time before Harry's behavior started to annoy him. "Open this door immediately! Do you want to die?"
"If I have to sleep with you to live, then yeah, I want to die!" Came the answer.
Voldemort's heart jumped into his throat, "If you go much longer without food, you will die!"
"My personal best is three days!" Harry shouted back, then the Dark Lord heard a barrage of coughing and he felt pain again.
Voldemort's worst thought was that Harry's internal wounds had opened up and he was choking on his own blood.
"Harry, if you value your life, even slightly, you will open this door!" He growled through his teeth, but still the door remained closed.
For the next three days Voldemort sat in a chair by the door. He couldn't eat or sleep. He felt his mate growing weaker, and couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Good, because his magic was beginning to wear down, meaning that the door should open soon. Bad, because it meant that his health was also declining…
XXX
Harry couldn't move. It was just too painful. He couldn't think straight. He was bonded to his enemy!
Harry picked up the book and read through it again. The directions for the ritual were correct in every way.
He shuddered when his mind went back to that night in the graveyard…
Harry vaguely heard Voldemort pleading with him on the other side of the door.
He doesn't care about me. Harry thought franticly, trying to come to terms with everything. He only wants to do…that with me just to save his own skin…No one would love me…for me. No one. I'm not worth it. I'm just a…a freak. I can't even protect myself from my idiot uncle!
Tears came to his eyes, but he brushed them away angrily. He'd cried enough because of Voldemort…because of everything.
He briefly entertained the idea of killing himself just so that Voldemort would die. But a small voice inside of him said that he should give Voldemort a chance…And strangely enough Harry listened to that voice. Maybe, just maybe, something good would finally happen for once in his life! If there was even a slight chance that there was some form of good in Voldemort, however small, then maybe he could bring it out.
But I don't even know what to say…and I still hate him for everything that he's done. Harry took a breath then winced when pain shot through his stomach.
He was quite hungry, and despite being as nervous as he was it didn't stop him from gingerly getting out of bed to search for food. It was then that he realized he was naked! He scrambled to cover himself up blushing deeply. Who had removed his clothes? Anger overtook his embarrassment as he figured Voldemort was the one who had taken them. He grabbed a blanket that he found in a trunk at the end of the bed and wrapped it tightly around himself then, in a fury, he crossed the room and jerked open the door. And was surprised when he found his enemy slumped over in a chair fast asleep.
His anger left him when he realized his enemy was only feet from him and could also easily overpower him, judging by his muscular body beneath his robes…
Harry mentally shook himself. If he wanted to be able to hold his own against Voldemort then he would have to start with a good breakfast…and work his way up from there.
XXX
Sometime during the night Voldemort had fallen asleep, when he awoke it was near five o'clock in the morning. He looked at the door…it was open! He got up and walked slowly into the room not wanting to startle his mate. He found that Harry was neither in the bedroom nor bathroom. Now he began to worry.
The Dark Lord searched every room of the mansion except the kitchen. And before he stepped through the door he heard Harry and his House Elves talking.
"Are you sure Pen can't get you anything, sir?" The Head House Elf asked.
"Yeah, I'm used to cooking for myself…and others, besides it feels weird having other people – er – House Elves waiting on me hand and foot. I'll be okay, just one thing: Where is the frying pan?"
"Over here, sir."
Voldemort decided to make himself known at this point, "You really should stick to just very small portions of fruit for now, Harry. Especially since you haven't eaten in nearly a week."
Pen and three other House Elves spun to face their master and Harry paled pulling a blanket closer around his body. Voldemort had just noticed it and rose an eyebrow in question.
Harry blushed and glared at him all at the same time, "I couldn't find my clothes, someone must have taken them."
Voldemort knew what he was implying and if the situation wasn't serious he would have laughed. "When I saw the state you were in I called Oval who specializes in healing. She must have been the one to remove them."
A flash of anger appeared in Harry's eyes, "Does everyone have to know! First the Dursleys, now this bond…" He searched for a word, but came up blank, "thing."
"There are only six people I know for certain are aware of all that has happened so far."
"And they are?"
"Severus, Lucius, Oval, Dumbledore, and Draco." Voldemort answered promptly.
"Malfoy! How did he find out!"
"I wrote a letter to his father."
"And I suppose it was them, Snape, Lucius, and Draco, that kidnapped me."
"Very good, but I think rescued is a more apt term."
Harry suddenly paled again and swayed on his feet; if Voldemort hadn't caught him he would have hit the floor face first.
He was breathing heavily and shaking. He struggled to wrap the blanket tighter around his body, but it was already so constricting that it as almost like a second skin.
Voldemort kept him upright. "You should have stayed in bed."
"Drop dead." Harry whispered.
"I could, but then I would be taking you with me. Now are you going back to bed or do I have to carry you there?"
Harry growled, "I came down here by myself and I am leaving the same way." And with said, he walked toward the door and went to his room. After all, there was no where else to go and he couldn't survive for very long outside.
Voldemort sighed and sat down heavily at the kitchen table.
Pen had never seen his master look so distraught. "Is there anything Pen can get for you, Master?"
"Yes, make a fruit salad and put some of it in a small bowl, save the rest, bring it up when you have finished."
"Yes, master."
Voldemort rose from the chair and heard his knees crack. He winced, I suppose sleeping in a chair for nearly a week will do that to you. Then he went to check on Harry and found him lying in bed, as requested, looking out the window at the approaching dawn.
Voldemort saw, with amusement, that Harry had piled extra blankets over himself. It was also then that he saw the bottle of salve.
He walked over to the nightstand and picked it up.
Harry glanced at it with suspicious eyes. "What's that?"
"A salve for your bruises. I was ordered by Oval to place it on your body once in the morning and once at night. But as you have probably noticed, I have not been able to follow through with those directions."
"You're not getting near me with that!" Harry said fiercely.
"Why must you be such a trial?" Voldemort questioned.
"Because I know that you would rape just to stay alive!" Harry snarled.
Voldemort winced, but he did see Harry's point. He sat on the edge of the bed, in turn, Harry scrambled as far as he could to the other side of it, meanwhile trying to keep himself fully covered.
The Dark Lord leaned over and reached out a hand toward him, Harry tensed closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, preparing to be hit. But Voldemort just placed his hand under his jaw and lifted his face up.
"Open your eyes and look at me, Harry." And he did, though reluctantly. "I would never rape you to save my life, but if your life was the one in danger…" He let that hang in the air. "Other than that I would never force you to do something that you are not willing to do and I would never willing hurt you, I give my word-."
"YOUR WORD! Your word means nothing to me! You killed my parents, Cedric Diggory, Frank Bryce, Bertha Jorkins, and Merlin knows who else!"
"How could you remember - ?" But Harry cut him off.
"NO! I'M NOT FINISHED! You have destroyed other peoples' lives. Neville Longbottom's parents no longer even recognize him, all thinks to your followers!"
"I had nothing to - ."
"Yes, you did! It may not have been you personally, but they were still Death Eaters, your followers, who committed the act!" He took a deep breath, and said in a quieter tone, "You have no idea how many families you have torn apart. But I do, because every year that I've gone to Hogwarts new stories keep coming to light…and they just rip me apart inside. I can't stand it!"
Voldemort did not want a lesson in morality at this moment, but he couldn't help feeling slightly guilty. He felt pain through the bond, but it wasn't physical.
"I will not say that I am sorry, because that would not be true. Everyone I have killed so far I have done with reason." Harry opened his mouth to argue, but this time Voldemort cut him off. "None that you would understand, of course. But I can tell you – No – I promise you, that I will never willingly harm you. Please, believe me." He looked at Harry with pleading eyes. Voldemort needed Harry to understand that. He needed to get Harry to trust him, to love him.
Harry closed his and tried to see through his hate, though that was difficult. He found that he did believe Voldemort, but…
"I suppose I do believe you, but your still a murder, still willing to kill again."
Voldemort nodded in agreement. "I guess that's a start. Now lie down so I can apply this salve."
Harry shot him a glare. "You are not putting that on me!" Harry was very worried that if Voldemort even touched him, he might forget his promise and jump him right there!
"Yes, I am or Oval will have my head and I am doing this more for your benefit actually. So, again, I ask you: Please, lie down."
Harry did so, warily. He still didn't like the idea of Voldemort touching him, but there wasn't any other argument he could make to defend himself. But, he had to admit, the black silk sheets felt good on his skin now that he had the time to fully appreciate them.
Then a thought occurred to him. He gave Voldemort a serious look and said, "No going below the waist, agreed?"
Voldemort nodded. "Agreed, but could you move more toward the middle of the bed? It will be rather hard for me to reach that far."
Harry saw the sense so he moved closer to Voldemort who unscrewed the top of the jar and dished out the substance onto his hand. Harry closed his eyes and turned his face away from him, a red tinge appearing on his cheeks.
Voldemort placed his hands on Harry's abdomen where the worst of the bruising was and began to rub in the medicine in slow circles. He felt the muscles tighten under his hands and warmth spreading through him. He felt as if he was in 7th Heaven and began to fully appreciate the beauty of his mate's body and the bruises he had sustained. Voldemort had to control his anger at the site. But for now, he thought it best the Dumbledore figure it out.
Harry's quidditch training had certainly paid off. His entire body was well built. A stunning site for the eyes to fest on, which Voldemort did with no complaint.
He then moved to the upper chest, taking care to not touch either of the nubs on his chest for fear of startling him.
Voldemort spent a few more minutes on the chest before asking his young charge to turn over.
Harry looked at him guardedly. 'I haven't tried to kill you yet, have I?" Voldemort replied, then winced. Yes, he had tried to kill him on numerous occasions. "Please, just turn over."
Harry slowly rotated his body over so that his chest was now against the sheets. He used his arms to create a pillow for himself. He had almost relaxed when a pair of large warm hands rubbed against his skin. His body gave an involuntary jerk.
"Relax." Voldemort hissed the command in his ear.
The Boy-Who-Lived felt a cold shiver run down his spine at hearing parseltongue. But his body did obey the command to a degree. And as the hands moved across his back he left himself drifting off to sleep…
Voldemort felt Harry's emotions weaken as he fell asleep! I'm surprised he would even consider leaving his body in a vulnerable position…It must be the bond.
In, what felt like no time at all he was done and began to screw the lid back onto the jar. At that moment, Pen came in holding a bowl with fruit salad.
"What kept you?" He growled at the elf.
"Please, Master, there was some difficulty - ."
Voldemort waved off the explanation. "Put it on the nightstand."
Pen did as told, then turned to his master and asked if there was anything else he could do.
"No, you may leave." And Pen did.
The Dark Lord looked longingly at the bed his mate was now asleep on and wished he could join him. Unfortunately he realized that he had work to do and things to arrange. And, with a sigh, he left.
XXX
HPTR fangirl: The person who played the young version of Voldemort is Christian Coulson. :)
Bobby: Hope you got what you wanted. ;) And I don't mind your criticism! Keep it coming!
Everyone else: I have gotten so many reviews telling me that Voldemort was OOC with Oval. I understand this and I will explain: One, Voldemort respects her because she knows a hell of a lot more than he does about healing, so he let her take charge. Two, he realized that if he didn't do what Oval said, he could put Harry in danger. Three, he was too furious to even look at Harry's wounds. He knew he had to get a better grip on himself or he would have lost it. Four, Oval and him are sort of 'friends,' if you will, he got her out of a tight spot many years ago and she has been faithful ever since.
Now, I wish to address the Dumbledore thing. He will be good. I'm sorry for any of you who hates him, (I don't like him myself if it's any consolation, far too cheerful) But don't worry, I'm not planning on having too many scenes with him.
Til next time - Source of Silence