As promised, I am uploading this chapter earlier, as it was supposed to belong to the previous one originally.
Thanks a bunch for all your lovely reviews, speculations and constructive critique :)
As user 'passanger' pointed out to me, I made a mistake in the previous chapter: when Hermione and Krum got together, Hermione was 15 already. For some reason, I thought her birthday was in June. That notwithstanding, the point about the whole minor-adult thing still remains, which is why I'll ask you all to graciously look past this mistake without me re-uploading last chapter.
Enjoy!
Chapter 68 – Not A Date
Harry did not, in fact, check a calendar before leaving, not wanting to miss another minute. Hermione's claim that this was absolutely a date didn't calm his nerves at all, even though he knew that most of their talks would be focused on practical topics, such as what to do about Harry's guardianship situation and Voldemort finally elaborating on why Dumbledore had visited the office of the Daily prophet.
As he descended into the tunnel beneath the one-eyed witch statue, Harry kept worrying about stupid, inconsequential things, such as his tie being crooked, or his clothes being covered in dust by the time he arrived. Realistically, he knew that Voldemort had never expressed any care for such trivialities and had seen Harry covered in grime and blood. Often been the cause of it even. Still, he felt very conscious of his looks at the moment.
That feeling did not fade in the slightest when he disappeared from the Hogwarts grounds in a flash of blue and landed in the living room of Riddle house, where Voldemort was already waiting. The Dark Lord was wearing elegant, green outer robes over his usual silk black ones. Harry could swear that his mouth dried out entirely as soon as he laid eyes on the wizard, although whether it was the unusual look or the familiar magic that possessively wrapped around him, the teen couldn't say. His brain was too busy trying to catch up.
''You are early,'' Voldemort noted, not unpleasantly. He stood and took a step forwards, which Harry happily took as his cue to give into an embrace that lingered longer than technically necessary for a mere greeting. His tongue was too twisted to answer, so he let Voldemort guide him into a seat and looked at the table in front of them, impressed.
The dining table bore a variety of foods and was decked for two. A bit to the side stood a glass vase with blue and purple flowers of various types that Harry recognised from the many Muggle gardens in Surrey. Though breakfast hadn't been long ago, Harry hadn't been able to eat a single bite due to nerves and he was grateful for having the opportunity to indulge here. A gust of wind tousled his black hair even more than usual, upon which Harry realised that the doors towards the orangery were open wide, which in turn was open to the rainy garden. The fragrance of coffee, flowers and wet grass pleasantly mingled.
''Thank you for wanting to meet,'' Harry said, still trying to calm his stomach enough to actually think of putting anything on his plate. It helped that Voldemort's magic settled down a bit until it was no more than a pleasant background hum that resonated through the room without being overwhelming. ''It doesn't feel like it's only been one and a half months. So much happened in that short amount of time.'' He rolled his shoulders, feeling more able to relax here than he'd been able to in a while.
''On both our ends,'' the man agreed, inclining his head. Then, he waved broadly over the table. ''None of this is poisoned, I will have you know.''
Harry chuckled nervously. ''Your explicit statement about that makes it sounds more suspicious,'' he pointed out, though he did take a croissant and began to butter it. ''Did you make this?''
Voldemort made no move to start eating himself, steepling his fingers under his chin and simply watching Harry's movements. ''No, I went to check on my office in France yesterday and put in an order at an excellent bakery that I have come to eat breakfast at more often.''
''I find it hard to imagine that,'' the Gryffindor faintly smiled. ''Even knowing how you look as Noctua, I just envision you sitting at a Parisian café as yourself, while chaos erupts around you.''
Voldemort shared the amusement through their link, at which Harry noticed how much he'd missed that. The man was in a rather atypically light mood today, which was a good sign for how their talk could go. After their last shared dream, Harry had worried his head off about having been too callous. He knew how much the Chamber of Secrets and the creature it had inhabited had meant to Voldemort. Harry felt justified in his own dislike of the place as it had nearly become his tomb, but he had killed the Dark Lord's pet in there…
''Evan,'' Voldemort spoke in a slightly chiding tone, and Harry realised that the other must have felt his returning dread.
''Sorry,'' he mumbled, biting into the buttered bread, chewing on flakes of pastry. ''As you're not eating, do you want to continue speaking about how you came to meet Dumbledore?''
The Dark Lord hummed low under his breath. ''I might as well get that out of the way. It appears that you and your Defence group are not the only ones who wish to oppose Dolores Umbridge. Dumbledore believes she is a danger to the school and is planning on taking over. It turns out that he was impressed by how defiant my articles have been, judging the Ministry instead of printing propaganda. He believes that we share a common goal of uncovering injustices. In short, the old man wants me to expose how ineffective and harmful Umbridge's actions are to the student body.''
Harry was quite shocked by that. Although Dumbledore had acted on behalf of students against Umbridge on several occasions, such as when he'd purposefully not informed the High Inquisitor before sending Harry away with the Weasleys before the Christmas holidays had started, the teen had not thought that the Headmaster would involve press.
''Are you going to work together with him then?''
''When I first got his message about wishing to meet, I thought it was about the refusal to print his claims about my return and had already made up my mind about rejecting any ideas that came from his mouth. Although he did address that, I hadn't anticipated this turn of events. I harbour a deep hatred for the old fool, but I can use this. Dolores Umbridge sent me a note too. It was a carefully worded letter, the core of which suggested that my job is not out of the Ministry's reach.''
Harry laughed: ''She threatened you?''
''Quite. And she isn't entirely wrong. While banning the national newspaper country-wide would lead to protests, they could force me to step down as Head Editor. In the end, all companies rely on the Ministry one way or the other. Even small businesses and freelancers need Ministry approval. If they perceive the people losing faith in its government as a direct result of my writing, they could revoke my license on base of treason, or, if they wish to settle matters quietly, pay me handsomely to resign. If I'd refuse to take that bribe, they could charge me with acts such as defamation of character and seditious libel.''
''Which are?'' Harry asked, unfamiliar with the exact meaning of those terms.
''With defamation of character, you would try to damage the reputation of a person with false statements. Seditious libel is similar but has a broader meaning. Instead of a false claim about a person, this is the term for malicious writings that defames, brings into contempt or disrepute, or excites the hatred of the people against the government. With our current judicial system, it's less a matter of whether it's true than how many people they can convince it to be true. Fudge would need only to persuade just over half of the Wizengamot to vote against me.''
All of it sounded rather precarious to Harry, especially as Voldemort's articles had been aimed at exactly that. ''Even if your writing itself held no falsities, was your whole outset not to make people doubt the Ministry?''
''Of course, I absolutely published those articles to turn people against our government,'' Voldemort replied with a sharp smile. ''Yet even if they discover that and sentence me for it, my main purpose has been fulfilled already. I will see how far they'll go, and how long it'll take. Also, the most interesting question for me right now is whether the French government will react the same. I could potentially have 'Noctua' move to France and continue publishing only in Nouvelles du Monde Magique. Alternatively, I resign from the press altogether and disappear. That would leave me more time to focus on the Hand of Magic, which is growing rapidly and in need of more structured leadership. In any case, there are enough options.''
''Right,'' Harry said, moving onto some interesting cookies which reminded of round granola bars. ''What would be your preferred option?''
The Dark Lord heaved a sigh. ''As interesting as running newspapers is, the environment is annoyingly hectic, and as I have to hide my identity, I need to keep up an act all the time. I'd prefer to quit it and move onto something else. I haven't had nearly enough time for research, political manoeuvring or for my duties as a Lord of Magic. On the other hand, I do have a foot in the door with this, can speak openly with people I wish to gather information from… losing that would be a setback.''
''So have one of your followers replace you if Noctua is forced to resign,'' Harry suggested. ''Surely some of them will love a job like that. Well-paid, with people to command… The Ministry won't be able to suddenly have a replacement ready, especially not when they don't know who on the current staff shares your views.''
Voldemort was silent for a while, simply staring straight at Harry, who tried not to feel too intimidated. Knowing the other, the staring wasn't actually meant to be impolite. The Dark Lord was simply too used to not having to take note of social etiquette any longer. ''That could work…'' the man answered at last. ''I shall consider it. First, however, I wish to see what I can do against Umbridge. I'll surely be able to defame her before getting pushed out of office.'' Harry doubted that it was going to be an easy or short process, but wisely stayed quiet. Voldemort's tone and feelings were incredibly determined.
''Do you need another interview from me?'' Harry asked. ''I mean, Umbridge would kill me for that, but it'd be worth it.''
Voldemort nodded. ''Having a more detailed list of the effects she's having from a students' perspective is valuable. To avoid your untimely death, I will not be putting your name under it this time. 'Several students who wished to stay anonymous out of fear of repercussion' sounds much better. I'll most definitely also mention that last time someone spoke up against governmental policies, they were unjustly and disproportionally punished. Now, any other questions about this?''
Harry thought about it for a while, then asked: ''Does this mean you will have to meet Dumbledore more often? How would you handle that?''
Voldemort sneered. When not directed at Harry, even that expression looked quite attractive, the teen noted. ''I hope for it to remain at written correspondence. As Headmaster, Dumbledore is not subject to the same mail checks as the rest of the castle. He does have that much power left still. For how long, I can't say. Speaking of Dumbledore, if discrediting Umbridge does not work out as fast as hoped, I can perhaps drag him down with me to make him lose the titles he has at the moment.''
''That sounds good for me personally, but wouldn't that mean Umbridge would take over Hogwarts in that case?'' he worried. ''I can't imagine how much worse everything would get if she did. Not to mention that if she quits Defence, the curse on that position might not activate.''
The Dark Lord gave a thin smile at that. ''Oh, I can assure you that it will. When designing that curse, I wasn't too certain of the exact framework, but after trying to circumvent it with Barty last year, I discovered that only a few months of being a Defence teacher is sufficient for it to activate. She's been there long enough that something awful will happen to make her leave the castle at the end of the school year, no matter if she'll try to switch positions within Hogwarts by now.''
''That's something at least,'' the Gryffindor muttered. ''But did you just admit to creating a curse without knowing every last detail about it?'' Harry noted, raising an eyebrow.
Voldemort flared his nostrils. ''I admit to doing so when I was barely thirty and inexperienced,'' he stiffly answered. ''It is not as if access to source magic suddenly made spell creation a breeze.''
Moving on to not offend the man, Harry continued: ''In the meantime, I guess I'll do my best to counter her teaching methods with my Defence group. Funnily enough, your Horcrux approved of the name 'Dumbledore's Army' for it, also to throw Dumbledore under the bus if it would ever be discovered.''
''Great minds think alike,'' Voldemort commented dryly. ''I always was a genius.'' The wafts of arrogance that reached Harry were undeniable. He didn't want to fan the man's ego, but neither could he objectively oppose that statement, so he bit into another cookie instead. ''Speaking of your army, you mentioned expansion plans?''
Harry instantly got excited and told Voldemort all about it, going into detail on what they'd been practising, who they were considering getting on board and how civilised the whole group was now despite all being from different houses. The man listened attentively and commented a few times on Harry's teaching methods and chosen curriculum. Then, he asked about the relations between the members. To Harry, it felt a bit like Voldemort was fishing for information on whether or not Harry was building up his own Death Eater circle. Which he wasn't. Totally not.
''I still don't really know what most of them are to me,'' he pondered. ''Some are my friends, but only those I already considered such before. Others are only acquaintances, I suppose. Hermione told me to ask everyone in the D.A. for help in my guardianship dilemma, but I feel like I'm not close enough to most members to throw that in the group. Not even sure if it would be helpful.''
''You won't need to.''
The declaration was so decisive that it took Harry aback. ''And why would that be?''
Voldemort rose from the table and started to pace back and forth, the light from outside catching on the shimmering material from his robes, making it look as if he were clad in liquid. ''Yesterday, Dumbledore contacted the Ministry with a suggestion for a family that could take you in. One of my people happened to be present when the news reached the responsible department. The rather overworked employees at the office responded enthusiastically to the proposition.''
Instantly, the teen sat up straighter. ''What? Who did he put forwards? Do I know them?''
''I doubt you would know them personally, although they are of your blood. Andromeda and Ted Tonks.''
Harry blinked. Tonks? The only Tonks he knew was the young Metamorphmagus Auror in the Order, who insisted that her mother had been mad to name her 'Nymphadora'. Was this Andromeda that same mother perhaps? Or another relative? Then, he truly registered what Voldemort had said, and tried to remember if a Tonks had been connected to the Potter line on the only family tree tapestry he'd seen. He couldn't recall. ''My blood?'' he carefully asked.
''Andromeda Tonks used to be known as Andromeda Black. You are related through your grandmother Dorea. It's not a close connection, but family ties are worth much in the Ministry's eyes. Apart from your godfather, the rest of your remaining family all originate from the Blacks too. The Tonks' fit nearly all the required boxes. They're not short on money, have raised a child who became an Auror in record time, and are married. The only flaws are that Ted Tonks is a Muggleborn, and that both are public supporters of Dumbledore, who is not very popular at the moment. For you as well, it would not be an ideal option, as I'm sure this means you will basically be under the old man's thumb instead.''
Frantically, Harry stood too, unable to sit still. ''So what do you suggest? This claim sounds so solid that randomly picking a wizarding family I agree with isn't going to cut it!''
''No… and that is where your relatives come in. You see, Andromeda was the youngest of two sisters. The oldest was Bellatrix Black, who is now in Azkaban. The middle one was Narcissa Black. Who married a certain Lucius Malfoy.''
Now, Harry really could not uphold his composure. ''You are telling me that all this time, my closest living relatives in the magical world have been the Malfoys?
''Together with the Tonks' and Lestranges, yes. Just like your grandmother, the Black sisters can be traced back to line of Cygnus Black II, whereas your godfather is from line of Sirius Black II. Of course, neither of them are direct family, it's all removed cousins and such, and the families they married into and the spawn two of them got is even further removed from your bloodline.''
''Still, the Malfoys are my best chance.''
''No, I'm saying that they are your only chance,'' Voldemort corrected.
This was not a turn of events he'd considered. His head spun. He could at least stand Draco now that the Slytherin wasn't being a constant prat and Harry had technically given the blond a hand of friendship, but they were far from bosom friends. He wasn't sure if he could manage Draco as a sibling. An older sibling at that.
Besides his issues with his former rival, he didn't know Narcissa and Lucius too well either. Draco's mother had been civil the few times he'd seen her, but that hadn't been more than a few minutes in total. Lucius on the other hand, had almost caused Ginny's death, tortured his own house-elves and tried to seriously harm Harry at the very least at age twelve. Harry truthfully still wasn't entirely sure what the spell had been that Mr Malfoy had tried to throw at him before Dobby had interrupted his former master. The only time the Death Eater had spoken positively on Harry's behalf, had been an attempt to suck up to his Lord once it became obvious that Harry had ended up on Voldemort's side. Having the slimy man as a father…
But it beat the Dursleys by miles. It also beat being under Dumbledore's control.
''Lucius is your follower though,'' Harry spoke slowly, narrowing his eyes at Voldemort. Somehow, this all was a bit too convenient. ''If the Tonks family would get me, Dumbledore would probably dictate what they tell me yes… but wouldn't you do the same with the Malfoys?''
''Very likely,'' Voldemort openly admitted. ''But consider this: my ideas of what is best for you more often aligns with your own views than Dumbledore's ideas, don't you think? I won't make them try to control your magic or preferred place to stay. You will still be able to visit your godfather and friends now and then… Most importantly, we can negotiate terms if you disagree with restrictions. I can guarantee you that the Headmaster won't give you that option.''
He was glad to have eaten when a lighter topic had been discussed. He'd lost all appetite, feeling stuck between a rock and a hard place. So, Voldemort was planning on getting control over him again?
''No,'' he whispered.
The other blinked rapidly. ''Pardon?''
''No,'' he repeated, louder this time, coming closer till they stood chest to chest. Stubbornly, Harry unblinkingly stared into Voldemort's crimson eyes. ''If I agree to the Malfoys getting custody of me, I don't want you to get involved. Any restrictions Lucius and Narcissa put on me, I will negotiate with them, not with you. I realise that Lucius is your follower, but I ask you this as a friend. Don't take back control of me through your minions. It's not appreciated. Suggestions about my safety are welcome of course,'' he added in afterthought. ''Your insight and experience are something I highly value, I simply don't like if it's used against me to take away power from myself.''
Voldemort cocked his head and held a concentrated expression. It took a moment until Harry realised that the man was trying to analyse his feelings over the bond. Good. Let Voldemort know exactly how persistent he was about this.
Finally, the man moved again, walking back to the table, patting Harry's head as he passed. ''I concede. Have it your way.'' A faint hint of pride flitted over, startling the teen. ''You're such a Gryffindor.''
''Speaking of control,'' Harry threw in before losing his confidence. ''Madam Pomfrey told me what exactly an experienced dark mage could do with a shrivelled arm.''
''Did she now?'' the Dark Lord airily asked. He took a sip from his coffee, eyes slowly sliding over Harry's form. ''Is there a problem with the payment you gave me for saving you?''
The way it was worded made the teen shift uncomfortably, but he pushed through. ''Did you ask for it to have a way to influence me again?''
With a clinking sound, the cup was set down firmly on its saucer. Emerald and ruby bore into each other. ''A useful tool can be a weapon. It doesn't have to be,'' the man cryptically answered. ''Usually, it is still only a tool. There are many uses I thought of before asking that price. That is all I have to say about it. Now, what I am most curious about, is why your school nurse knows anything about this matter.''
Not having planned on hiding this information in the first place, Harry told Voldemort about Pomfrey discovering the centaur arm and her method of showing him a 'better path' through healing education. The Dark Lord was hesitant at first about Harry's confidence in the nurse's silence, but eventually agreed with Harry's judgement after being shown the memory through Legilimency - a painful affair for Harry that he deemed worth it if it could save the nurse. It was bad enough that he himself had thought of attacking Madam Pomfrey, Harry didn't accidentally want to sic a Dark Lord on her who'd most likely not get second thoughts.
Afterwards, other topics were carefully breached as conversation turned more relaxed. On his part, Voldemort elaborated on the plan to appear at the Ostara Ball and filled Harry in on new details regarding Barty's promotion, which was to be a small affair between the Inner Circle before revealing Barty as his right hand during Easter as well to instantly establish a hierarchy. Upon further inquiry about the Death Eater, Harry found out that he was technically still staying at Riddle house, but Voldemort had sent him away for the day to 'not interfere', whatever that may mean. For the remainder of the hour, the Dark Lord told engaging stories about his trips abroad for the Daily Prophet and complained about his employees in a very human way that made Harry grin more than once.
When it became clear that neither of them would continue eating, they went into the rainy garden on Harry's suggestion, as he wanted to briefly pay respects to his parents before going back inside. The air was chilly still, but the past month had brought wetter and warmer weather, all frost gone by now. The field in the back garden was fresh and untamed, much in contrast to the front where Voldemort had meticulously planted useful flowers and herbs for potion-making. All the way in the back, Harry stopped and kneeled in front of the simple headstones.
''It is still surreal that I was able to speak to them. I never properly thanked you for that, did I?''
''If you call holing yourself up in your room and yelling about it 'properly thanking me', then you absolutely did,'' Voldemort snarked.
Harry rolled his eyes at the petty tone and looked over his shoulder at the Dark Lord. ''Well, thank you, then. I doubt that Necromancy is ever going to be my favourite field of study but… I have come to accept that it is useful, and I could save Sirius due to it. Maybe I should appreciate it a bit more.'' He sighed deeply as his eyes rested on the graves, from which he could hear faint whispering. ''If only I would stop having these side-effects,'' he muttered darkly. ''I still hear the dead every now and then, and see those soul pieces just as clearly as on day one.''
Voldemort kneeled down next to him, fingers trailing over the earth. It was indiscernible what exactly he did. Harry registered a spike of magic. ''Perhaps there is some lingering connection. Attempting another Necromancy ritual might fix that. There are plenty of students to quietly kill in Hogwarts,'' Voldemort suggested. Nothing about the feelings Harry received through their link hinted at it having been a jest.
''Does your moral compass point down the drain?'' Harry exclaimed, exasperated.
The Dark Lord furrowed his brow. ''I am attempting to help you,'' he frostily replied. ''Your connection to the cosmos is stronger than I have seen in anyone else. As I aided you in reaching it last time and you were emotionally involved regarding your godfather, you might not have entirely separated from it as should be the case. Going through a ritual by yourself from start to finish could be the only way to get rid of these side-effects. Of course, it could be that you are naturally weak against outside influences. You told me that your own attempts at Occlumency weren't brilliant either until my Horcrux tutored you.''
The assumption stung despite having been said in a casual matter-of-fact manner, mostly because Harry felt that it was likely correct. He wasn't good in shutting things out or ignoring anomalies. Willingly jumping to the extreme of murdering someone for the purpose of bringing them back to life, however? Out of the question. Voldemort made it sound like it was a quick case of 'kill and revive', but Harry knew by now that it didn't work like that. Sirius' resurrection had been pretty unique: Harry would not be able to lock up someone's mind and soul into their heart right before the body gave out. And reviving an actual corpse would give an Inferi at best… Even when under extraordinary circumstances, Lily and James had truly come back to life using the correct bodies, minds and souls, they hadn't lived for more than a few minutes.
''Couldn't I try it with an animal?'' he suggested. For some reason, all texts he'd read by now about the Art focused on human remains. While slaughtering some innocent animal wasn't ideal either, Harry certainly was less squeamish about that, having killed animals to eat, for potions, and in some other rituals before.
''That depends on what you'd like to do with it. Look at it this way: any mage can see ghosts. You as a Necromancer can even see the wisps of Muggles and Squibs that haven't passed on yet. However, even you cannot see dead animals. Like Muggles, regular animals are not close enough to us to effectively find their souls in the cosmos. The Art heavily relies on bonds and blood. The most you can do with an animal is taking the essence of life from the Cosmos and pouring it into a carcass. Unliked with human Inferi, of which you can still summon and bind the souls so you can make them do your bidding, you'll need to use external spells to command them. If your sole purpose is completing a ritual, I suppose that would do. Personally, I am of the opinion that it would be a waste of what could be interesting practise.''
Harry bit back a choice swear word. With more patience than he thought he had, the Gryffindor asked: ''You haven't mentioned magical animals yet. Would that change anything? There are plenty of non-sentient ones like Grindylows or Redcaps.''
''I have never seen the need to attempt a necromancy ritual on a non-sentient magical creature,'' Voldemort admitted. ''It'll be fascinating to see if that makes a difference. I know that Necromancy on sentient magical beings and beasts is possible even though they are genetically not even as close to mages as Muggles are. Tricky, but possible,'' he commented with a pointed look at Harry's arm. ''We don't quite have enough time for it today, but I can lend you Peverell's work so you can study the basics again until Easter.''
Harry grimaced, not very fond of the book. While 'Studies of the Art' was no doubt an interesting piece of literature, Peverell's writing style left much to be desired, as well as his handwriting. Deciphering the paragraphs took long and was near impossible without plenty of light. It would be difficult to sneakily read at night with a Lumos spell under the blankets as he'd done with Regulus' diaries. Sirius' younger brother had had a very pleasant handwriting, thankfully. Nonetheless, Harry agreed and was glad when they headed inside again in silent agreement.
Voldemort led him towards the comfortable drawing room upstairs, where Harry only threw a few stealthy glances at the white sliver of fog near the fireplace. Voldemort instantly lit the wood and basked in its warmth, which made Harry experience echoes of bliss. Noticing a familiar shape, Harry approached a rolled-up, sleeping Nagini. ''How is she doing now?'' he asked, eyes raking over her sleek form. The skin had all healed up by now, he was pleased to see. He felt a much deeper connection with her now he'd been in her head twice, sharing her terror.
''Better, although unfortunately not as talkative as she used to be and she sleeps much longer than is regular. It's only been two months since her kidnapping, so I mainly let her rest.'' The teen really wanted to give her a few reassuring pats, but didn't wish to wake her, so he retreated and sat left of Voldemort on the couch, facing the fire. While the Dark Lord summoned the aforementioned book from a shelf, Harry studied the vase with flowers that had mysteriously relocated itself from downstairs to the coffee table.
''What's up with that?'' he asked, ignoring the thick tome handed to him in favour of gesturing vaguely to the bouquet, which he identified to consist mainly of irises, statice, and purple lisianthus.
''Did you not mention preferring flowers?'' Voldemort asked. ''They're a gift.''
Harry opened his mouth a few times without producing any sound. He didn't have the heart to say that he hadn't actually expected to receive flowers, or even liked plants very much. Well, he guessed that this was a lie he'd now have to take to the grave. It's not as if he was opposed to them, per se. ''They're lovely,'' he thus spoke. ''Not sure if I can take them with me to Hogwarts.''
The Dark Lord didn't appear to think of that being a hindrance. ''I'll send them through our next dream,'' he decided. Harry sincerely hoped that if Voldemort made good on that promise, he wouldn't wake up in a bed of crushed flowers. That would be cause for some explanation…
''You don't look too pleased.'' The words were accompanied by a waft of disappointment and irritation.
Harry shifted uncomfortably. ''I think it's because… because I hadn't really expected to get gifts from you. Not so randomly anyways. Birthdays or some special occasions, I can understand, but I thought you just invited me today to talk? What are you expecting of me?'' he bluntly asked. Most of what had been on his heart, he'd already been able to speak about and it wasn't even noon yet. Only the murders of the Dursleys had been left untouched apart from the custody aspect. Harry preferred it to stay at that, at least for today. Voldemort was the last person he'd ask whether it was okay to not feel guilty over being pleased with the death of other people. He already knew the answer and wasn't keen on sharing an opinion on that particular topic with a murderous Dark Lord.
''Do you remember why I invited you here in the first place?'' Voldemort asked all of a sudden, unusually quiet.
Harry frowned. ''You only said that we need to talk in person instead of through dreams. That there is 'much we should speak of'. I figured that, because we never have enough time during the night as you also still want to tutor me, you preferred to do so here where we can accurately measure time.'' He didn't voice the wild hopes and fantasies he had about other reasons why Voldemort wanted to meet up in person, stamping them in the ground for fear of overreacting.
''Ah, Evan… I should have known that subtle efforts are wasted on you.'' Harry turned towards the other, feeling a bit offended. Voldemort raised a hand, thin fingers hovering in the air for a moment before splaying themselves across Harry's cheek and brushing the skin carefully. The teen's breath caught, all movements halted as that single touch sent a trail of shivers down his face. Voldemort smiled wryly. ''We both left in a rather… turbulent mood at the turn of the year. I believed that it would get better with time, when I could pick apart and analyse… all of this.'' The man admitted with some difficulty.
'All of this' crashed into Harry with full force as Voldemort let go of the control he had on himself. The background hum turned into a thrumming that would have been ear-shattering if it had been translated into sound. Magic rose like a tidal wave, a heavy weight numbing the teen's entire body as it captivated him. Harry closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. In addition, a whirlwind of feelings passed through their mental bond, too fast to identify. Vaguely, Voldemort's voice filtered through: ''Now, more than a month later, I have concluded that that was a foolish attempt. To be frank, I don't know where to start. Nothing prepared me for my own mind betraying me with such complexity of emotion. The answer on how I could solve this mystery leads back to you each time.''
''How so?'' Harry asked warily, prying open his eyes again to look at the other. ''I don't know how to deal with this any more than you.'' Okay, so he had a few ideas, but Voldemort had made his boundaries clear, which Harry didn't want to thread upon.
The Dark Lord shook his head. ''You do. You must.'' Frustration was added to the already confusing mixture. ''I wasn't like this before you came here. Our blood bonds is why I changed. And if you are the source of origin, then you can also tell me why this controls me so! You are the catalyst of my erratic behaviour, surely I can only find the answers with you.''
Harry swallowed heavily. What did Voldemort want him to do, exactly? Analyse the man's feelings and describe back to him what it was? The idea sounded laughable in his head, but it appeared to be exactly what the Dark Lord was thinking of. ''We share a soul and a mind, you can feel what I feel. If I could only have names for this, perhaps that would be a start,'' the older wizard spoke in all seriousness. ''Are you able to do that?''
Harry merely nodded mutedly, not trusting himself to speak. What if he would misinterpret anything? Or add wishful thinking to his explanations? Already, Harry could feel plenty that made him doubt the severity of his own crush in comparison. The teen balled his fists. No matter, if he couldn't even help the man he'd come to fall in love with, then he would make for a lousy partner. So, they were really doing this then.
Calming down enough to think clearly was pretty much impossible, so Harry went with his own gut feeling. He took one of Voldemort's hands in his own and tried to untangle the various feelings from the man's foreign yet familiar mind. ''Try… try to concentrate on a single thought at once if possible, please.''
Voldemort complied, and one by one, certain emotions strengthened. Trying to concentrate on what he'd been asked to do instead of the deep embarrassment he felt, Harry first started listing the feelings that he could clearly classify -contentment, frustration, jealousy- , and after several attempts, tackled the more muddled ones too. It was odd to feel such a train of emotions run past with the knowledge that they weren't his own. Contentment over acceptance, fear of loss, eagerness for something in the future… He was simultaneously thankful and annoyed about not being able to see which memories caused each feeling in Voldemort, as Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to know which ones exactly were directed at himself.
Harry tried to recall times where he'd felt similar emotions to cast them back at the Dark Lord in an attempt to show the wizard the subtle differences between their own variations. Time flew by faster than it had during all of their conversations. At one point, the chime of a clock caught his attention, and he looked up to see that the old Muggle wind-up clock showed that it was nearly two o clock. They continued, and Harry felt more and more drained from being subjected to such a rollercoaster. He peered into the most vulnerable parts of Voldemort's soul, uncovering both self-hatred and narcissism, serenity and passion. At several points, Harry almost tried to break the connection, dragged under by obsessivity and longing.
The emotions became less and less frequent until they stopped altogether, and Harry imagined he'd run through the entire spectrum of possible human emotions. For some reason, Voldemort did not look happy. ''Was it… what you expected?'' Harry tentatively asked, reaching out again for the hand that had slipped from his grasp before. The Dark Lord tensed up, yet allowed it.
~Expected, yes. Hoped… not so much. Even after everything I discovered now, the old fool was still right,~ Voldemort hissed, barely audible over the crackling fire that the man was glaring at.
Puzzled, Harry waited for an explanation that didn't come. ~Can you elaborate?~ he asked after a while.
Slowly, the man turned towards him again and carefully took Harry's face in his hands. Feelings of defeat and depression touched his mind. ~There was still one missing~ he replied. ~One that I know comes easily to you. Evan, in much the same manner as you did before, can you show me what love feels like?~
Speechless, Harry finally understood. He nodded wordlessly at the request. Pushing the awareness away of what this meant for him and the possible future relationship he so wished to have, Harry concentrated with every fibre of his being on the various types of love he felt: for Hogwarts, for flying, for his friends, for Barty, for Sirius, and lastly for the one in front of him. Voldemort's nails dug into Harry's face as the man took in the overwhelming force of it.
''It is beautiful,'' he rasped, clearly conflicted. ''I never thought…''
''It's okay,'' the teen muttered, wincing as he took Voldemort's hands and pried them off his face, feeling something wet slide down his cheeks. ''It's okay not to feel it,'' he tried to reassure. ''There is already so much that you have and-''
''Don't, please.''
The Dark Lord was turning away now, shutting him out. Harry's heart bled as he realised that this new onslaught of uncontrollable emotions had awoken hope in Voldemort that he was maybe able to love as well. Green eyes wandered to the flowers again. Oh Merlin.
Before any permanent damage could be done, Harry decided that he wasn't just going to let the other get away. He repositioned himself on the couch, leaned closer and wrapped his arms tightly around the man, who was as unresponsive as a brick wall. It didn't deter the Gryffindor at all. ''No, listen to me,'' he spoke in a tone as firm as he could muster. ''From the first moment that I realised what I felt, I knew what I was getting into. You told me multiple times before that none of this comes naturally to you. That did not stop me from wanting you. It's enough, it's plenty enough to know that you are willing to give me a chance.'' As Hermione had said, not every relationship was a perfect fairy-tale love story. ''I have seen that you care for me, that you enjoy our time spent together, and that you want me too,'' he continued, getting hot in the face as he so openly spoke about it. ''We can work on anything that comes after.'' The tense muscles relaxed minimally. Harry took that opportunity to slip under a thin arm and rest his face on the silk-clad chest. After only a few seconds, Voldemort responded wordlessly by tightening the grip.
The teen hesitated for a moment. Surely, the Dark Lord knew the full extent of Harry's feelings as well by now, but he still felt the need to speak it out. ''I can love plenty for the both of us,'' he whispered, smiling as a pleasant hum of agreement vibrated through the bony chest he awkwardly lay upon.
Although the man didn't verbally respond, Harry was infinitely thankful that Voldemort had been receptive to the words. They remained like that for a good while, both tired and having spoken about most pressing matters beforehand. The teen thoroughly enjoyed every minute, although his spine certainly didn't agree with that sentiment.
The clock struck again, and to Harry's shock, it had jumped two hours from when he'd last noticed it. ''I don't have long anymore,'' he reluctantly commented. ''I think I can only stay about an hour more or so. Dinner is served at six and I still have to walk back to the castle from my Portkey spot, hide my invisibility cloak and change into something that doesn't look like I crawled through a dirty tunnel twice.''
''Tunnels?''
Harry sat up and gave the Dark Lord an odd look. ''True, I did wonder why you never used those. There are several tunnels from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. Only two usable ones at the moment, but there used to be more. Regulus mentioned in his writing as well that he'd used one of those to go to you.''
Mentioning Voldemort's previous lover maybe hadn't been a smart move, as the Dark Lord grimaced at the name. ''I found only two secret ways that led out of the castle when I was at Hogwarts,'' Voldemort frowned. ''Both were collapsed and unusable, I figured that at one point in time, one of the Headmasters deemed it too much of a security risk and blocked all ways out. I didn't spend time searching for more exits afterwards.''
''Well, one of them hadn't been built yet back then, I suppose,'' Harry frowned. ''And most are indeed blocked or highly unstable. There's only a single passage that is safe to use at the moment, which is accessible from a quiet part of the castle and has to be opened with a password.''
''Good to know, although I doubt it would be usable to me personally. The wards of Hogwarts don't just reach to the ground, they go much deeper. You can go through as you are accepted by the wards in general, but intruders without permission to be on the grounds can't sneak in through there.''
Probably better, Harry thought to himself. Waking up to Death Eaters storming the castle wasn't something he could use in addition to everything else going on.
To Harry's slight dismay, Voldemort picked up the Necromancy book and started flipping through it, marking several pages by turning the corners.
''You know, if Hermione would see that, you'd suddenly have a new arch-nemesis,'' he commented.
Voldemort chuckled lightly. ''I adore books, but they are still nothing more than useful tools to transfer knowledge,'' he stated. ''As long as the creases don't run through the actual text, it won't do any damage to the purpose of the book.''
''That's a good summary of the argument Ron tried to use in an hour-long debate against her. He lost.''
Voldemort showed teeth when he smiled and said: ''I do hope that my debating skills are on a higher plane of existence than those of Ronald Weasley.'' He finished marking the book and handed it to Harry, who slipped it into his school bag.
''You could say that. So, how would you like to spend this last hour? Are there still any topics that you want to speak about?''
''Always,'' the Dark Lord spoke. With slow movements, he drew Harry to his side again, who did not protest in the slightest. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening, and he would bet his Firebolt that the other didn't either. Instead of their previous silence however, Voldemort started asking questions about ways to improve their tutoring sessions and which topics Harry was interested in most. Hands found their way into his hair as they talked, at which Harry sighed in utter content. During the middle of a talk about illusionary magic, Nagini woke up briefly and slithered over, wedging her massive body between the two of them, continuing her nap there. Harry was struck by the thought of how much he felt at home here, talking to Voldemort and petting Nagini. Hopefully, he'd be able to indulge in this far more often in the future. If the Malfoys would really apply for custody and win, it would probably be much easier to convince them to let him stay here instead.
''Oh, one more thing,'' Voldemort spoke as Harry's last minutes arrived. Out of thin air, he procured an envelope. ''Open this when you are back at school. No, it's not cursed,'' he added at Harry's look. The teen tucked it in his bag, taking out the invisibility cloak instead. After once forgetting it at the Astronomy tower and once in the same tunnel he'd come through now, Harry always made sure to put it on in advance. Nothing would be worse than Umbridge catching him right now.
''Thank you. For the talks and… everything,'' Harry spoke while carefully untangling himself from Nagini. He stood and hesitated for a moment, then plucked a single flower from the bouquet, wiping the stalk dry and putting it in his bag as well. ''While I appreciate you wanting to send it through a dream, the whole bouquet might soak my bed,'' he commented cheerily. Before being able to change his mind, he acted on a whim and leaned down, reciprocating Voldemort's forehead kiss of which the memory had fuelled many a daydream. The cold skin was smooth and dry under his lips, and made him want to plant many more, yet Harry restrained himself. ''See you next time,'' he managed to choke out, feeling light-headed even before activating the Portkey.
The dizziness didn't stop even after he'd long arrived at Hogwarts and changed clothing. Just as he went down to the common room, the Quidditch team trudged in, looking chagrined. Harry avoided Ron, who brusquely stormed past. The Twins just shook their heads and headed over to Lee Jordan, while the rest of the team dissolved. Ginny was one of the few who didn't let her frustration over the day-long training session get to her.
''Hey Harry,'' she said, clapping him on the shoulder. ''Hope that your Valentine's day was better than mine?''
Harry was silent for a second, then looked at her with pure horror. ''Valentine's?'' he croaked. ''What do you mean, Valentine's?''
The girl swung her broom over her shoulder and gave him a look with raised eyebrows. ''It's the fourteenth of February. Valentine's day. Oh right, you weren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade, right? I heard there were so many dates set up… be glad that you could avoid that.''
''But… but where are all the decorations? The pink hearts and whatnot?'' he exclaimed. Although the amount of enthusiasm around the holiday had dwindled ever since Lockhart's singing dwarves, there had always been something! He'd been in the Great Hall at breakfast and had not seen a single shred of confetti or heart-shapes.
She cocked her head. ''Err… Umbridge hates fun? And everyone else hates pink because of her? Not a great combination if you ask me. Harry, are you alright? Don't tell me that you forgot to buy gifts or something.''
''Not only that,'' he moaned, burying his head in his hands in despair. ''I'm such a fudging idiot!''
Ah, Harry has recognised what we knew all along :P
I hope the wait was worth it! Please tell me if you liked their date. (Sorry, Not a date.)
The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, the 8th of November, so roughly three weeks from now. You can look forward to a Barty POV and Umbridge shenanigans.
Please read and review!
xx GeMerope