ahem. hi. it's me. the author of this story. i wanted to inform y'all that this story is also being posted on AO3 - it's actually here on FFN more like an afterthought. I advice all of you to read it there, as the formatting is less wacky and there are some minor changes in grammar (i'm using grammarly over there), as well as AUTHOR'S NOTES. if you want to hear the 'behind the scenes' with the author, you should really go over there. if you want to leave a review, go over there. i don't reply to reviews on FFN (although I do read them). If you're just here for the read, then by all means, continue as you have! I'm just saying that i, personally, prefer AO3 and that's where i post most of my stories. it's on there under the same name (Damning the Damned) and by the same username (KatWrech). That being said, thank you all for the wonderful reviews (and the not so wonderful ones. thank you for taking your time to comment that present tense isn't your thing. what do you expect me to do about it?), and please enjoy this new chapter! :D
"We're sure she's a Death Eater wannabe?" Tom asks. He's carrying the Ravenclaw girl towards the Meeting Hall, where they're planning on waking her up and interrogating her.
"Yes," Harry replies. He has his hands folded behind his back, comfortable in his pair of very clean Healer robes and with a disguise charm cast on him. "She used the term mudblood, Tom."
Tom nods. They arrive to the Meeting Hall moments later, and he sits her down on the floor, removes her ropes, trots over to his "throne", and first when Harry sits down next to him does he rennervate her.
She sits up with a gasp, lies her eyes on Tom (now Voldemort) and gasps again – louder this time. "My Lord," she breathes, stumbling to fall to her knees. "I – I am honored – "
"Quit the nonsense, girl," Tom spits. "It has come to my attention that you have kidnapped and harmed one Hermione Granger."
"Yes," the girl gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "the mudblood girl, yes – "
"Such behavior is not acceptable," Tom cuts her off, and her expression of awed joy falls into one of confusion. "What did you think this would get you?"
The girl, now trembling, ducks her head and looks at the floor. "I – I wanted pass with the Death Eaters – " she stutters.
"You're too young," Harry sighs. "You have to be at least seventeen to take the Dark Mark."
"Besides," Tom adds, "killing Granger would just have landed you in prison. Do you think you're of any help for me there?"
"N – no, my Lord," the girl whispers.
"Listen," Harry says. "You are not to harm any students, muggleborns or no, under the Dark Lord's name. It will do no one any good." The girl, apparently not caring that she has no idea who Harry is, gives a trembling good.
"Of course," Tom says, "if you're still interested in some years, you're welcome as one of our followers."
Ourfollowers, Harry's mind repeats. As morbid as it is, his heart warms, and he throws Tom a soft, warm smile.
"You'll have to swear an oath," Tom continues, a slight color having risen in his cheeks, "to not tell anyone anything about this. Do that, and you will not be punished."
The girl nods furiously. "I will take the oath, my Lord – anything for you, my Lord!"
Long story short, she takes the oath.
Harry takes her back to the school, then portkeys right back to the Manor.
"I'm staying here tonight," he says, plopping himself into the couch beside Tom's desk. "No questions.
"Then we're going to bed right now," Tom says. He looks stern, or is supposed to look stern, but in the gentle waves of moonlight coming through the windows he looks softer than ever before. "You need the sleep."
"Fine by me," Harry shrugs.
Tom smiles, and it's probably supposed to look like a smirk or a grin, but the douse of moonlight makes everything soft, even things that are soft from before, and with a small headshake Tom takes Harry's hand and leads him back to his bedroom.
Athie curls up with Nagini on a heated rock by the window. Harry tucks himself in against Tom's chest, relief trickling slowly through his veins at everything being okay, the content dulling his thoughts being fully his own.
Tom's fingers thread through his hair in slow, rhythmic movements, and Harry sighs softly and tilts his head into the touch. "Tom?" he says quietly. Tom hums, the sound rumbling through his chest and the air and everything Harry is. "If… if we find out how to break the bond," Harry whispers, "do you want to do it?"
Tom goes silent for a very long time. Then he sighs, pulls Harry closer to him and nuzzles the top of his head. "I don't know, Harry," he replies softly. "I don't know."
And that's probably all Harry's going to get, so he lifts his head, gives Tom a soft kiss, and goes to sleep with a smile.
The next morning, he wakes first.
Sunlight falls through the window and dances across the covers, thin in a way sunlight rarely is in Hogwarts. Harry rubs his head against Tom's chest and yawns. Their legs have tangled while they slept, as has their arms, and Harry encounters some troubles when he attempts to untangle them without waking Tom.
He doesn't succeed in that particular mission, and so Tom wakes with a quiet mutter.
"Good morning," Harry says softly, smiling up at him through his bangs. "Help me out here, will you?"
Tom helps untangle their legs, and then he lies back down against the pillows. "'Morning," he murmurs. "Slept well?"
"Huh, I didn't know you cared," Harry grins as he regretfully pulls on his Hogwarts Robes. They're clean now, thanks to the dutiful House Elves.
Tom cracks an eye open and glares at Harry. "I'd think it was pretty obvious I cared by now," he says drily, "considering all we've been through."
Harry laughs. "Yeah, I know," he says. He braces himself on the bed and bends down, pressing his lips to Tom's in a soft kiss. "It was a joke, love."
He pulls back a few inches – just enough to be able to meet Tom's gaze.
Time seems to stop.
Harry's hair, grown long enough to brush past his ears, hangs like a curtain between the two of them and the world. Yet the sunlight flitters in between the strands of hair, spilling over Tom's high cheekbones and illuminating what illuminates Harry.
Harry's breath catches in his throat – beautiful, he thinks, beautiful, and all mine –
there's something soft in Tom's dark eyes, something soft and warm, what's usually hard like stone now more like molten iron. And something within Harry melts, molds, and is shaped into a new yet familiar form.
"I love you," Tom whispers, breaking the silence between them, his eyes wide in disbelief and affection and hope. "Merlin."
Harry giggles, leans down, and captures Tom's lips in another gentle kiss. "I know that, as well," he replies quietly. "I love you, too, you dork."
Tom rolls his eyes, and the moment shatters like glass. "Go to school, you idiot."
Harry laughs again. "I'll see you later, then," he says, pulling completely away this time.
"Yes," Tom says. He's smiling when Harry puts on the bracelet. "You will."
"Safety," Harry commands.
Moments later he's standing outside of the Forbidden Forest. He'd returned to Malfoy Manor from this point last night, and now he's grateful. If he'd had to walk back through the Chamber now, that would've ruined his good morning.
He walks up to the school with a skip in his step.
Of course, his good morning is about to be ruined anyway, as Hermione sees him the moment he steps into the Great Hall to get his breakfast. She grabs his arm, nods to Theodore, and begins to drag him out. "Wait," Harry says calmly, putting a hand on her arm. "I want Neville to be there."
He's supposed to work like a barrier between Hermione and Harry. He's generally more at ease than Hermione when it comes to big things like these, and hopefully he'll manage to calm her down if she riles herself up.
In this, Theodore is an unknown element – but Harry isn't worried, not really.
Upon hearing his name in that sentence, Neville looks up from the table with his eyebrows raised in surprise. He gets up and follows them out of the Hall without asking questions.
They end up in an abandoned classroom, the four of them, and Hermione sits herself down at one of the desks with a stormy expression. It's obvious that she wants an explanation, and fast.
Raising his eyebrows at her Harry casts first a powerful locking charm on the door, quickly followed by a few privacy wards Tom had taught him in the beginning of the summer. God, that feels like it's ages ago…
"Right," Harry says, sitting down opposite of his three friends. Does Theodore count as a friend? Ugh, God if he knows. He sighs. "I suppose I'll have to start from the beginning." The three of them shuffle around a bit, finding a more comfortable position to sit and listen in. "It's October 31st, 1981," he begins. "Lord Voldemort shoots of a curse at baby Harry Potter. Me, in case you didn't know." He lets the chuckles die down before he continues. "The curse doesn't kill me. Instead it creates a soul-bond so powerful that one of the greatest wizards of all time still doesn't know how to break it."
And with that he has their attention. Hermione's staring with wide eyes, Theodore is frowning in concentration, Neville is leaning forwards and has paled a bit. "A soul-bond?" he breathes. "But those are – "
"Very rare, yes," Harry nods. "Anyway – I had no idea this soul-bond existed until the Triwizard Tournament." Here he breaks himself off with a small, hurting sound. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I have no excuses, just regret."
Theodore waves his hand dismissively to signal that he should keep telling the story – so he does.
"When I – when I got face-to-face with Voldemort, the bond reacted in such a way that I had no control over myself. I helped him return to his body, and I hated myself for weeks afterward." He sighs and leans forward on the desk, resting his elbows on his knees. "Two days after school ended, the bond freaked out and caused me to have a black-out. Tom had a blackout as well – " two gasps, one from Theodore and one from Hermione. Both of them recognize Tom's name. " – and so I was brought to Malfoy Manor, where he has his base. He told me that he'd made Horcruxes during the first war, that they had caused him to go insane, and that he now was whole again. I didn't believe him at first," Harry hurries to add when they all pull disbelieving looks, "but after three weeks or so… he found a book in the library. A book on past lives. He performed a spell on first himself and then me to see if we have lived before. He hasn't." Here Harry takes a dramatic pause, meeting first Hermione's gaze, then Theodore's, then Neville's. "I have," he says quietly. Two sharp intakes of breath, these from Neville and Hermione. "I regained the memories of my life as Harrison, Healer at Hogwarts infirmary during the Founders' Era. My mental age was now nearing 80, and my personality had changed. I saw Tom's side of things. Even if I hadn't already decided to follow him, I would have changed my mind then."
"But – " Hermione breaks in, "but Voldemort wants to – "
"Hush," Theodore says, "ask questions later, the story isn't done yet."
Hermione shuts up.
"I became Voldemort's right hand," Harry continues, as if he hadn't just been interrupted, "his partner in crime. In many ways I became his equal, although that was not what either of us wanted. We came up with the plan that he'd pose as Draco's squib cousin, so that I'd have a squib friend. It will help push our plans forward – and I'll come back to that later."
"So that – that was all a lie?" Neville pipes up, voice soft and fragile. "You didn't make friends with Draco last year?"
"No," Harry says, shaking his head. "I didn't. He was ordered to go along with the story."
Hermione, who's been frowning for a while, suddenly speaks up. "But – you told me Thomas was your boyfriend," she says uncertainly, "and – and you came back with hickeys that one time." Her eyes widen as she gasps. "Harry!"
Harry scratches the back of his head and looks away. "I, er… I might have… fallen a tiny bit in love."
"With the Dark Lord," Theodore deadpans.
Harry shrugs helplessly.
"But he – does he even have emotions?" Neville asks, flabbergasted.
"Yes," Harry sighs. "All of them," he adds, when Hermione opens her mouth to speak again. "He's admitted to loving me. Most recent was this morning, actually." There's no reason to tell them he's never said it before this morning…
"Alright," Theodore says diplomatically, "so you're in love with the Dark Lord. You've lived before. What about your plans? Why was Malf – Thoma – he so angry when Hermione was kidnapped?"
"Oh God," Hermione says, "I've talked to Voldemort."
Ignoring her for the moment, Harry turns to Theodore and begins to answer his question. "He's afraid of muggles," he says. "All he wants is the Ministry to see that they pose a gigantic threat to Wizards, Witches, and all magical creatures. He doesn't want to kill them, and believes that both muggleborns, half-bloods and squibs are all part of the Wizarding community." Here he sighs. He's going to need a Pepper-Up potion after this. "He wants to separate our two worlds, so that muggles will never be able to discover us. He doesn't care how it's done, as long as it's done properly."
There's silence for a few moments.
"And you agree," Neville says.
It's not a question.
"Yes," Harry nods. "I do."
"But Harry!" Hermione cries. "He – he killed your parents!"
Harry shakes his head. "Voldemort, the murderous mad-man, killed my parents. Tom didn't."
"But they're the same person," Hermione stresses, "Harry, you – "
"Hermione," Neville buts in, "they really aren't. Horcruxes… magic… it does things to you." He looks tired in that moment, expression haunted, and Harry thinks for one brief moment that it's he who should be going through this. "How sure are you that he's being sincere with you?" he asks, to Harry. "How much of that is because you love him?"
Harry smiles. "I've known since the moment I regained my memories that he's sincere," he says. "And I wasn't in love with him then."
Neville nods solemnly. "I don't know about you," he says to Hermione and Theodore, "but I trust the judgement of an 80-year-old who knows him more rather than a group of students who don't." He turns back to Harry. "If it matters any at all, I'm on your side, Harry."
Harry's smile turns wobbly as relief crushes over him. "Thank you, Neville," he whispers. "It means a lot."
Hermione still doesn't look happy. "But how do you know?" she asks.
"How do I know you are sane?" Harry shoots back. "Hermione, I understand that you worry. I do. But please trust me on this. I'm not asking you to side with us. I'm not asking anything at all, really. I just really, really want you to accept this. Because this is me. This is who I am."
With those final words, Harry slides down from the desk and exits the room. He shuts the door softly behind him, and feels like he shuts of a friendship.
Two weeks pass. Hermione doesn't speak much to Harry, Neville keeps throwing him worried glances, and Theodore doesn't act different at all. Pretty much all that Harry expected to happen. He isn't that hurt. Not really. He's almost 80 years old, damn it – he's seen time move past him like water in a river. One person more or less doesn't matter.
That's what he tells himself, anyway – but when Hermione seeks him out after the two weeks pass, his heart thunders in worry.
"Harry?" she says, standing above him in the library. She's sad, her voice like thin paper and shoulders hunched. "I… I wanted to talk to you, for… for a moment…"
"Sure," Harry says, closing his book and turning to Draco, who'd been lecturing him on the correct uses of moonshade. "Leave us, please," he asks, and Draco scrambles to stand up.
"Yes, my Lord," he mutters, bowing at the waist before nearly running out the doors.
Harry watches his retrieving back and hums. "Sometimes that boy takes his role a bit too seriously," he mutters.
"U – uhm," Hermione stutters. "That's… what I wanted to talk about, actually…"
Harry pushes one of the chairs out from the table. "Well, sit down, then," he says. "What's on your mind?"
Hermione sits down in the chair, but she doesn't speak up before a few moments have passed. "I… uhm… I've thought a lot about what you told me, and… if… if you're right about… about Voldemort and all that… then…" She takes a deep breath, looks up from her lap, and meets Harry's gaze. "I'm more on your side than Dumbledore's. That's what I wanted to say."
Harry's smile crumbles. "Oh, Hermione," he whispers. Tears well up in his eyes. "I can't – "
"Do you not want me to?" Hermione asks in surprise.
"N – no, I do!" Harry exclaims. The tears trickle down his cheeks, now. "I didn't expect you to – " He wipes away the tears and smiles again, this a smile of happiness rather than a smile of patience. "I'm just very happy."
Hermione smiles as well. "Good," she says. "So, can you tell me more about your plans?"
And Harry does.