In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

78. C78 - Definitely a Date

Thanks so much for all the support, so happy to see how many people are into this story :)
I'm back on a regular update schedule yes, you can look forward to a chapter each week.
Since this one turned out to be so massive, I didn't really have time for my planned corrections of previous chapters as I planned though since I prioritised writing ^^''
It will still happen (I have a whole long list of everything I want to correct) but I didn't want it to cause me not finishing the new chapter in time.

That being said, let the fluff commence!
Enjoy!

---

Chapter 78 – Definitely a Date

''Ouch!'' Harry cried out the instant he landed, slipped on something, and fell with his arse in… sand? Blinking up into sunlight and bright sky, various distinct sensations flooded him. The smell of brine, loud cawing of birds, a sweltering heat and a constant rushing in his ears. Sharp ridged shells broke beneath his fingertips as he pushed away from the ground to get to his feet again. When finally not feeling disoriented anymore from the Portkey, he forgot entirely to search out Voldemort – who had to be very close as pleasant tingling magic was already dancing across his skin, slightly pulling at him – eyes drawn instead to the endless, glittering ocean. His breath caught at the sight, nothing he'd ever witnessed before having made him feel so infinitesimal. The largest body of water he'd seen so far – the Black Lake- was nothing compared to this: water stretched out left right and centre as far as the eye could see, surface reflecting the multi-coloured sky above: blue, orange and gold broken by ridges of white where the waves crashed in on themselves. It was mesmerizing, and Harry surely would have stood there gaping for another hour if he would not have been interrupted.

''I take it you are enjoying the sight?''

Voldemort sat a few yards behind Harry on what looked like uncomfortably sharp rocks, but by the way he lounged on them, they might as well have been a velvet-lined throne. The man wore no disguise, his already unusual eyes shining gold now in the light of the setting sun. He was stunning.

''This is not exactly the cold, harsh environment you said I would enjoy,'' Harry spoke with a half-smile. ''But it's beautiful, nonetheless. Where are we?''

Voldemort stretched and slid off the rocks like a cat. ''Angola. There are several stretches of beach here that are shielded from Muggles, yet few mages know about them nowadays. When I needed a place to study sea serpents, this was recommended to me by an Angolan Magizoologist whom I'd helped with a particularly foul Kelpie before. Would you have preferred a stony beach in the Highlands?''

''Not particularly,'' Harry admitted, shivering to think of how the temperature would be that far up north right now. While he'd seen a few couples romantically warming each other during winter months, that was definitely not going to happen with Voldemort by anything other than warming charms. ''I didn't think it would be this large,'' he pondered, gaze once again drifting to the water in wonder, even as his feet started carrying him closer to the Dark Lord.

''It's quite warm too,'' the man mentioned, taking a step closer too to embrace Harry briefly.

''It is, I am a bit too heavily dressed for this weather.''

Voldemort threw him a bemused look. ''That too, but I did not mean the air.'' Before Harry puzzled together what had been meant, all coherent thought left his brain, eyes glued to the way Voldemort's silky black robe first slid off one shoulder, then the other, revealing smooth skin below that Harry's fingertips itched to caress. Even clad in nothing but a piece of cloth wrapped around his hips, the man regally strode down the beach to the edge of the water, submerging himself quickly. Harry fumbled with the clasp of the cloak Draco had insisted him to wear. He'd been invited here to swim?

A mixture of curiosity and the tantalising magic he'd missed feeling so closely drew Harry to the shoreline too. On the way, a trail of clothes was haphazardly left behind as he rushed to rid himself of them until only his grey boxer shorts remained. He threw the last sock back onto the beach in a wide arch. The water was indeed pleasant as it hit his skin, hardly cooler than the air around. Salt prickled his nose as he waded further in, following the speck of white that occasionally emerged. With an inward grin, Harry speculated whether the feared Dark Lord could get a sunburn. It did seem likely unless he used constant spells against it. When finally reaching his partner, they silently circled around each other a few times and Harry once more wondered what the hell they were really doing. This was Voldemort. Someone who always had a plan, a goal, a purpose in everything he did. Even when reading fantasy books in his spare time, this man had the ulterior motive of using it to further educate himself. There was no way that he simply enjoyed floating around in the water for no other reason than relaxation.

''Have you ever seen sea serpents?'' came the question, and as Harry looked at the other, he caught a familiar hungry glint in ruby eyes that answered his unspoken question. He was here to learn something, to discover something new, to be taught. Of course.

''You know that I have not and take it that you are about to show me?''

''They are even more magnificent than Basilisks,'' Voldemort promised before diving under water. Harry's heart sank in his stomach when reminded of all the glory behind the Basilisks' deadly teeth and even deadlier eyes. Why could he not have fallen for someone who was a fan of fluffy bunnies. He yelped as a hand enclosed around his ankle and yanked him below the surface. The expected gulp of sea water didn't come, and as Harry felt around his face, he concluded that Voldemort had cast a bubble head charm on the both of them. He pushed all unpleasant memories about almost drowning by his own charm failing aside to brazenly delve into the depths. Giant monsters were a lot cooler to look at when in company of an expert who knew how to deal with them. And when they weren't actively hunting Harry.

Voldemort tirelessly swam further out into the ocean, ever deeper, a Lumos having to light the way now. Harry's muscles protested against the currents and increasing water pressure as he struggled to keep up. Two years without Quidditch and no regular training regimen to replace it had definitely made him lose some endurance. D.A. sessions could only do so much when Harry mainly instructed or gave demonstrations. He should get involved a bit more with actual duelling. As least Barty's teaching this summer had been a slight boost to keep in shape again. How did the Dark Lord move so effortlessly here? There had to be some kind of spell involved, as Harry doubted Voldemort bothered with fitness. How unfair.

The promised warmth of the ocean had completely left by the time they finally halted. Harry was freezing to the bone, yet stopped himself from recklessly performing magic when not certain whether it could be tracked. 'Shielded from Muggles' didn't necessarily mean they were in a separate dimension altogether, and Harry only had his own wand to cast with.

''There''

Harry jumped at the voice that echoed through his head and he gave his partner a wide stare. Telepathy? Seriously? He attempted to think very hard about several questions he had, but the other did not react at all. Giving up, Harry scanned the water in front of them. The light didn't reach very far, and not knowing what exactly these sea serpents looked like made it rather difficult.

Or so he'd thought. It wasn't difficult anymore when with a loud rumble, a shape moved away from the rocks below, black scales reflecting the light as the serpent unfurled itself. The water moved around him unpleasantly and he was suddenly sucked a yard further down before an invisible wave threw him back again. He would have attempted to swim against the current if he hadn't been so utterly frozen, this time not from the cold. He attempted to control his breathing as a specific memory he'd buried in the furthest corner of his mind hit him with full force. Massive tentacles, an unearthly shrieking, maws attempting to swallow him up.

''Calm yourself, it's a pescatarian''

So was the Giant Squid though, and that hadn't helped at all. But as hard as he tried to convey those thoughts, he was throwing them into a void as Voldemort did not answer, instead leaving Harry alone to descend further. With it, he brought the light closer to the beast: a pitch-black thing with milky eyes, so large that it dwarfed any dragon Harry had ever seen. He understood the pictures now of eel-like animals wrapping themselves thrice around large ships, for it looked long enough to do just that, its tail disappearing from view in the darkness at a point where it was still so thick that it would barely have fitted through the great entry doors of Hogwarts.

When the utter terror subsided enough to move again, his first instinct was still to run. His second, stronger instinct, was to put himself between the beast and Voldemort to ensure his partner's safety. Only logic kept him still as the Dark Lord had done this before and knew damn well what he was getting into, far better than Harry. Fascinated, he watched as the other drifted close enough to touch the serpent and rested a pale hand against its snout. Despite the man being around 6'5'', the massive head alone was more than twice his size. Gathering all Gryffindor courage he could, Harry willed his limbs to move – past the fear, past the cold – until he floated next to his partner, feeling entirely out of his depth as he too stretched out a hand to caress the scales. They were harder than a dragon's, he noticed. Sharper, too. The edge looked like an obsidian razor, though he didn't dare test that theory in case it liked the smell of blood.

Considering the size of this animal, Harry had to wonder whether Voldemort's previous comment about it only eating fish was entirely true. How would it realistically distinguish between anything it swallowed up? He had so many questions, yet frustratingly no way to ask them. Attempts to speak failed as the bubble around his head didn't appear to allow any sound to pass it. Additionally, Harry noticed how the cold put more and more strain on his body, and he longingly looked up to the surface above. Breathing was only one problem when swimming, Voldemort didn't appear to have accounted for the rest. Unable to communicate in any other way than basic gestures and feelings, Harry simply pointed upwards before slowly putting more distance between himself and the surprisingly docile sea serpent that was just chilling on the ocean floor. Nonetheless, his eyes never left it in case it would move again and cause the ocean to become turbulent. The way back took longer than he thought, and Harry was still shivering when hauling himself onto the hot sand again. While waiting for Voldemort to return, he gathered his clothes and thought upon the experience. A slightly insane laugh slipped past Harry's lips when the thought came to him that he would have really preferred it if Voldemort wishing to show him a sea serpent would have been a euphemism.

Said man emerged about ten minutes later, carrying a scale the size of a hand fan.

''Please tell me that you didn't rip that off,'' Harry wearily commented.

''You should know by now that you are the suicidal one of us,'' came the dry reply. ''I have no intention of angering a creature that is a hundred times my size.''

''More like a thousand,'' he muttered.

''It was so close to the shore to get rid of parasites by rubbing itself on rocks. It's the ideal place to harvest its scales, a perfect tool for scrying. This was the most intact one I could find.''

''Scrying?'' Harry asked, wringing out his hair so the water would not unpleasantly drip down his back anymore.

Voldemort looked at him for a few moments before answering: ''You must have noticed that it was blind. Though their eyes are still there, they are vestigial now, sea serpents evolved a far more efficient system of viewing. Everything their scales reflect is transferred directly to their brains. It effectively allows them a 360-degree view around their entire bodies. While the connection is no longer there when scales are not attached to the body anymore, the magic is embedded into the material itself, much like Demiguise hair can still turn invisible even when cut when treated with the correct spells. Of course, it's not incredibly useful to form a connection between this scale and a human brain to see it's reflection – though possible, a charm to widen peripheral vision is less excessive than strapping a sharp scale to your back. Instead, the magic can be drawn to the surface and re-routed, then connected to other places. The only downsides are that it can only be connected to other reflective surfaces and the initial connection cannot be established remotely.''

''So right now, you cannot use it.''

''Not fully. I have another scale at home that became weathered over time. It is still connected to quite many places that I possibly cannot visit personally anytime soon. I hope to link the two, as I cannot get a clear view anymore in the scrying mirror that I have. You're lucky I found a useful scale this time, I've visited this spot multiple times now with no success.''

''What can I say, my luck must have rubbed off on you,'' Harry shrugged. Then, he chuckled: ''I'm cereal.''

The Dark Lord blinked. ''What?''

''I'm a lucky charm,'' Harry snickered. ''You know... the cereal? Come one, they have it at Hogwarts.''

''They most certainly don't! Even worse than a Muggle product, it's an American Muggle product!''

''So you have heard of it,'' Harry smugly spoke. ''Oh right, I think the Twins once mentioned that Dumbledore introduced it at breakfast after hearing the tagline 'it's magically delicious' or something in that sense. Probably wasn't at Hogwarts during your time then.''

''They're not even sold in Britain,'' Voldemort grumbled.

Once again, Harry wondered whether 'useless knowledge' just somehow stuck to Voldemort's brain or if he actively went out of his way to search for it. While he may be the more suicidal of them both, the teen decided that he wasn't feeling like dying today specifically, so didn't ask. To change the man's mood, he focused on something else. ''What was that before, where you spoke to me? A form of Legilimency? I didn't feel anything intrusive.''

''Thought transference. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. It can only be used across short distances, which makes it quite useless when someone is already in hearing range above ground. But as it's not a two-way connection, there is no danger to the receiver. You'd need very specific mental shields if you'd wish to block that out too. After all, if you cast a Protego against harmful jinxes, that doesn't block out sound or light either. It's on a different wavelength, so to speak. Perhaps I should have taught you how to use it as well, it was frustrating not to know what you were thinking. I only felt… fear, for which there was no reason.''

Harry sighed and came closer, lacing his fingers through Voldemort's. ''In your estimation and probably realistically, there was no reason for fear. However, you told me absolutely nothing about sea serpents before showing me one. I do not have the most pleasant experiences with humongous, sharp-teethed creatures. The Basilisk you mentioned almost became my death and the last time I encountered a large, seemingly friendly animal under water, the Giant Squid saw me as a snack and tried very hard to eat me. Forgive me for not instantly being enthusiastic about approaching an unknown beast.'' He squeezed the immobile hand while analysing the feelings he picked up. Voldemort appeared to be disgruntled at this information, almost frustrated.

''Was it not enough that I led you to it?''

Harry raised an eyebrow and threw his partner an incredulous look. ''Because you have such a great track record with keeping me away from danger? Even after I was on your side, you put me in the Triwizard Tournament to prove myself. It had nesting dragons.''

''Your shields-''

''-protect me from active harm. You may harness magic beyond imagination, but if that thing had decided to suddenly shoot out into the deeper ocean, I might have been dragged under by the currents it created and smashed my head against those rocks. I cannot cast magic here, can I?''

Voldemort abruptly withdrew, a shadow over his face. ''I see,'' he spoke in a clipped tone. ''Perhaps it may be too early to expect you to trust me enough to share such moments.''

Harry inhaled and exhaled slowly to calm down, although he really did wish to start ranting about how unfair Voldemort was being. The sum of their experiences together gave Harry a very rational picture of why he could never trust the Dark Lord to always have his best interests in mind. Just recently they'd been at wand point because Harry had wished to protect his guardians from literal torture. None of that would matter to someone who didn't want to hear it though. Especially not to someone who'd spent unfeeling decades with mainly artificial emotions under full control, only to now be assaulted with so many unknown ones that he was only just starting to understand. This was one point where someone like Sirius would surely say ' I told you so' at Voldemort's seemingly irrational response. But Harry could sense the balled-up betrayal, bitterness and need to withdraw. He reached out once more, hoping that this would not become a back-and-forth thing. ''For trying to include me, I'm very grateful, please don't misunderstand that. I… I missed you, too.''

''What gave you the impression that I missed you?'' the other harshly asked, though his fingers reflexively closed around Harry's again at the touch.

''You wrote me letters. Multiple, long letters,'' Harry clarified while trying very hard not to smile when Voldemort's scowl deepened. ''What I want to say is, it was very thoughtful of you to take me here, seeing the ocean and all. While I hadn't expected a dive to a sea serpent, even that wasn't unwelcome now I can think about it while back on the sunny beach. But next time – and I would really like for there to be a next time – a heads up on its abilities would be nice, just to know what I can anticipate. I mean, you yourself never go anywhere unprepared, do you? Even all of your experiments were only done after you spent hours pouring over books to pull together a coherent theory so you'd know most possibilities that could happen when putting it into practise. We may have different ways of thinking and processing, but in this I'm sure we're very alike. I'm not too fond of surprises. Honestly, it's the main reason why I have been thinking of dropping Care of Magical Creatures next year despite knowing it might break Hagrid's heart. Suddenly being shoved into a den with the next magical animal with zero preparation is not my favourite experience in the world. On top of that, regardless of how much you were able to protect me, I could not protect myself. In short-'' he held on tighter. ''My trust in you was not the main issue here. I dislike feeling out of my depth and reliant on others.''

''I… can accept that,'' the other curtly answered, the tight feeling in both their chests relaxing, minimally at first, then vanishing entirely as Voldemort unceremoniously sat down in the white sand and pulled Harry down with him, winding one arm tightly around the Gryffindor's waist to pull him close.

They sat like that for many peaceful minutes, what they lacked in sound made up for by curious explorations of the other's feelings and magic until Harry was pleasantly cocooned in silky threads of humming, living energy. But time did tick away slowly even if they only noticed minimally by the way the sun crept closer to the horizon. ''There's still a lot I want to talk to you about and ask,'' Harry said. ''For each hour we're apart, it feels like I find a dozen questions that only you can answer.''

''Why does that not surprise me in the least.''

The tone was playful enough that Harry didn't think twice about shooting away with the first request: ''Is there any way I can convince you to reverse your orders for Snape regarding my godfather?''

''You may certainly try,'' came the generous answer. ''I doubt much can convince me, but you've been known to change my mind on many matters that I had a fixed opinion of before. If I lack any information when it comes to Black specifically, do rectify that. However, if your only reasoning is that you're afraid for his health, I won't care an awful lot.''

''You've made that abundantly clear in the past,'' Harry huffed. ''In a way, I took your advice and started to… to experiment with Sirius to find the limits of my control over him. With his full awareness and permission,'' he quickly added. ''There lies the crux: because he remembers, he's now at peace with what he is and is willing to work with me.'' As Voldemort's interest had been piqued, Harry left out that he still very much wished to find a way to break the connection.

Cogs were clearly turning in the man's head. ''He realised his actions were harmful to you. In knowing that he is bound to serve you, he is compelled to take a different approach next time. If his memory were to be erased, he might instead repeat it again. He most certainly will after already suspecting us to have a relationship due to your lack of subtlety.''

''Basically,'' Harry nodded, glad that Voldemort came to that conclusion so quickly without needing to have a lengthy argument about it. ''So, you see that altering his recollection of the Ostara Ball would be more likely to create another sticky situation than leaving him be and under my control. He does not automatically like you or our… our relationship,'' he coughed, getting warm when voicing it. ''But he won't attempt to push me away from you anymore.''

To emphasize his point, Harry also wound an arm around the other, marvelling at the feel of how soft the hairless skin was beneath his fingers. Voldemort closed his eyes and a spike of pleasure shot through Harry at the same time he heard the softest of moans. Throat suddenly very dry, he brushed his fingers against the underside of the man's ribcage.

''Evan..'' Voldemort growled in warning, turning his head to look at the teen. That may not have been the Dark Lord's best idea, for Harry could only focus on how intense the stare and how dilated the pupils were. All conversation forgotten, he pushed himself up and twisted around so he sat on his partner's legs, one arm still curled around the thin waist, while his left rested on a shoulder that was indeed starting to turn a slight pink from the sun. His heart was hammering away as he leaned in closer, capturing thin lips beneath his own. For a moment, he faltered as Voldemort drew away, but when cold kisses were instead feverishly planted against the burning skin of his neck and shoulder, Harry felt encouraged enough to press even closer. His body shook as he dared hug the man so tight that their chests met.

''Oh—'' he breathed as the movement also pushed his lower regions snugly into Voldemort's lap. He became aware of his own excitement in the same moment that he realised his partner had also hardened beneath the very thin layer of black silk.

For the second time that day, he harshly landed with his butt in the sand. Harry blinked owlishly at the sky, mortified as it sank in that he had once again been very close to treading on Voldemort's boundaries. ''I'm so sorry-'' he choked out, putting a hand over his own face. ''I shouldn't have-''

A shadow fell over him and Harry peeked through his fingers, wondering why he didn't pick up any anger. With a swift movement, wrists were pinned above Harry's head, held together by a single hand as Voldemort crouched over him with an unreadable expression. ''No, you shouldn't have,'' the man murmured, leaning down only to plant a soft kiss to Harry's scar. ''But I understand that three months is an impossibly long time to wait for a teenager, so I'm not going to hold it against you.'' Harry squirmed as sharp nails raked across the length of his torso, teasingly stopping just above the waistband of his still straining shorts.

With a last, amused look, Voldemort withdrew completely and summoned his clothing again, leaving only Harry rather naked. The Gryffindor had to grudgingly admit that he'd deserved being left in the metaphorical cold now and didn't protest as he sat up and pretended it hadn't happened. The Dark Lord appeared perfectly fine with that as well, as he smoothly picked up the previous conversation again. ''I'll pull Severus back on one condition: you will monitor Black much closer than you previously have. In his contract, he was supposed to report every detail of the Order of the Phoenix to you when you would ask about it. It doesn't appear you have done so, unless you chose not to relay any of that information to me.''

''I thought Sirius would just tell me what he finds important no matter whether I'd ask?''

''That would be a high security risk. Imagine you visiting your godfather and he starts flooding you with information irrespective of who is around to abide by the contract. Your cover would be blown in an instant. I could not give him that power. Do you agree to my condition?''

''Certainly. I planned to contact him a few times before the end of the year again anyways, so I might as well have him fill me in about what the Order is up to. Is this really relevant to you though? You also have Snape there.''

''Having multiple accounts of the same meeting could give me a more detailed perspective. There may be specifics that Severus did not think important enough to put in his report. Lucius has another contact in the Order, whom has at several occasions brought forth useful information that Severus either did not have or didn't bother to mention as well.''

Considering that Lucius' contact was Kreacher, Harry could imagine that the Elf could hear much more than only what was told in official get-togethers of the entire Order. It was likely that Snape indeed didn't have access to all the info. Oddly, it didn't sound like Voldemort was aware of the identity said contact. Harry considered telling him, but Lucius had revealed Kreacher's loyalty as a sign of trust, plus Voldemort would surely be able to simply order his follower to spill the beans if he was really interested. It did come across as strange to Harry that the Dark Lord didn't seem to care enough to do so. Normally, Voldemort was a control freak.

Carefully, he inquired: ''So there's another spy in the Order, but you don't mind that it is someone who reports to Lucius and not to you?''

''Not as long as the information given turns out to be correct. Lucius' fragile status was very damaged. It makes him feel important to give me scraps I was yet unaware of, especially as I passed him over to give the position of my right hand to Barty instead. I have considered taking that away now that his value has additionally increased by taking you in, though it is not a high priority. The Order of the Phoenix barely managed to set back my plans so far, with the exception of their mostly coincidental capture of Nagini. Other than that, they are stumbling about cluelessly, so I direct my attention on more important factions. Both Dumbledore and its members surely think they are the greatest hurdle for my plans, but they're a mere annoyance at best. They have not prevented any alliances, they did not catch onto my larger plans, they didn't even keep you away from me. Plus, I am thinning their ranks considerably. Neither Severus nor Black are fully loyal to them, Doge and Moody are dead and Vance is under the Imperius for now. Including Dumbledore, they have a grand total of fifteen loyal members. One of those is a Squib, another a thief, not even a good one at that. You have seen the amount of people who bowed at my feet, Evan. Do you truly think I consider the Order a threat?''

''You shouldn't underestimate what a single, dedicated person can do,'' Harry warned. ''You were afraid of me when I was a baby. Small groups can ruin establishments.''

''Which is why I am still keeping an eye on them,'' Voldemort countered. ''But they fight a non-existing enemy. Dumbledore wishes to prevent a war that I won't start. They have no idea what it is I want.''

''Wouldn't that mean they could be allies?'' he hopefully asked. ''Even Dumbledore himself told you that he likes your ideas, didn't he? He just didn't know they were yours.''

Voldemort shook his head. ''Several members of his Order could perhaps become my allies when Dumbledore is no longer in the picture. Diggle, for example, or Jones. But the old fool's main goal is the destruction of me, personally. To ensure I will never bear any influence on this world anymore. I cannot shake hands with a man like that in hopes that he changes his view of me. Neither will I risk your safety by giving him a foot in the door.'' Rolling his shoulders, he said: ''Now enough talk of Dumbledore, it gives me a headache.''

While Harry pondered on his partner's view on Dumbledore, Voldemort approached the shoreline once more and put his bare feet in the water, sighing in contentment. It made Harry remember the freezing water in the deep. ''You seem to prefer the heat,'' he commented. ''So why did you not have trouble when swimming in the cold?''

''It's simple Herpology''

''What does your body temperature have to do with Herpo the Foul?'' Harry asked absentmindedly while kicking a rock into the waves.

''Did you ever open a dictionary, darling?''

Harry missed the next rock as the endearment threw him physically off balance. Only once he gathered his wits again, did Harry answer, under the amused eyes of the infuriatingly smug Dark Lord: ''The Dursleys were allergic to knowledge, didn't you know?''

''You mentioned sneaking into libraries…''

''Yes, but the few times I managed that, more interesting books than dictionaries caught my eye. Sorry for gravitating towards pretty pictures of planets and the human brain rather than Oxford's drab cover when I was ten.''

''Clearly, you skipped books with images of reptiles,'' the man huffed, nostrils flaring slightly at the movement. ''The necessary adaptations of creating a rudimentary body to possess left me cold-blooded due to using Nagini's blood and venom. That trait carried over during my resurrection as I used that body as a base ingredient to shape myself around. It affects my metabolism - the speed of digestion. My body functions best in warm areas when my metabolism is sped up. However, that does not mean that I cannot function in the cold. It simply makes me more… drowsy. Some species of snakes and other cold-blooded animals can even survive being frozen, did you know that? Extremely low temperatures are of course not incredibly healthy after a long period of time, but a short dive is nothing. It helps that most of my body also functions due to magic more than any biological process.''

Harry blinked at that news. ''You mean that magic holds your body together?''

''Yes.''

Eyes roving over the impossibly thin waist that was visible even beneath the robe, Harry could absolutely believe it. Before, when Voldemort had first headed towards the ocean, he'd seen a glimpse of vague shapes of organs and bones as the sun had hit the near-translucent skin from the other side. Why hadn't he considered this before? Something cold grasped at his chest. ''So… so if you'd ever, for any reason, not have access to your magic, even if only for a moment, then…''

''Don't be ridiculous, Evan,'' Voldemort scoffed. ''I will always be able to rely on my power. It courses through me, whether I am gravely wounded or unconscious. Worry not.''

He said it so proudly that Harry was unwilling to counter it with the million fears that popped into his head. About spells that could maybe hinder one's magic, or Muggles inventing technology to do the same. He was talking to someone who'd beaten death, who could craft himself anew from a handful of ash and blood. The thought lingered. That even if Voldemort's body was hacked into tiny pieces – a vision that left Harry shuddering involuntarily in dread – Voldemort could survive it. He had. Nonetheless, Harry gave into the urge to step closer and hug the man from behind, just a bit tighter than before.

''You're afraid again.'' The exasperation was palpable. ''Of what?''

''For you,'' he corrected, resting his head between bony shoulder blades.

''Some Gryffindor you are, frightened at imaginary threats,'' the man sighed. They remained still like that for a while, Harry's fears slowly dissipating again as they simple were, evening sunlight giving off a gentler touch, feet caressed by rolling waves.

''Is this the last time I see you until summer?'' Harry finally asked. ''Apart from dreams, of course.''

''No, this was merely a preview,'' Voldemort spoke, turning around to look down at Harry, lifting his chin up with a nudge of cold fingers. ''I'm sure I mentioned I wish to indulge in you for a full day. A few hours in the evening hardly count. We have a full schedule for tomorrow.'' Sadness turned into elation within microseconds upon hearing that news. That Voldemort made even more time for him than previously announced made his heart swell. That feeling of soaring heightened even further when the other offered: ''As for the remaining hours, we shall spend it at home. Unless you wish for me to return you to Malfoy manor…?''

The slight fatigue that he'd started to feel as the time passed was gone in an instant. He shook his head -regretting it slightly when Voldemort's hand fell back to his side-. ''No! I mean, it's great there too but… I'd love to go to your place.''

He stepped away to grab the bundle of clothes, figuring he'd only put them on again once he was entirely dry – underwear still sticky with saltwater clinging unpleasantly to his skin, made worse by all the sand. While his partner appreciated the view for a while longer, Harry made a futile attempt to brush the crusts off his feet that had formed the instant he'd stepped out of the water and sank ankle-deep into the beach again where the sand was loose. When Voldemort finally moved to gather his own things – a small black satchel in which he'd put the harvested scale – Harry threw envious looks at his perfectly dry and clean feet.

''Unfair,'' he remarked. ''You can't just use magic to appear effortlessly regal all the time.''

''I'll have you know that in fact, I can,'' the other smirked while walking lightly across the burning sand. The side-apparition could have been done perfectly well by grabbing onto the man's arm, but Voldemort made a point by wrapping it snugly around Harry instead when reaching him.

Harry hoped they'd come here again.

XxX

A childish giddiness that he hadn't felt since at least his early twenties had taken an absurd hold over him. For a while, Voldemort hadn't recognised it at all, as he'd usually only experienced it when accomplishing a difficult task others had told him he would never in a hundred years be able to complete, or when he'd outsmarted or shown his superiority over other people. There was no achievement here, no triumph in the sense of that he'd actively done anything. And yet, it was clearly there, strengthened each time he noticed how much Harry enjoyed the evening. It was a shame that his partner had appeared with his back towards Voldemort, though hearing the delighted gasp upon seeing the ocean had been music to his ears. For the first time in decades, his fingers itched to play music again to accompany the enchanting sounds.

Was this how a relationship was supposed to be? He'd thought he'd explored all there was to human connection with his first partner. Regulus had been attractive and devoted, their talks lengthy and their nights even longer. Yet he'd never considered to put Regulus' wishes over his own or gone out of the way to please him. It felt so bleak in comparison that even the betrayal that had ripped deep wounds and made him thirst for deadly vengeance now faded like an old scar. How strange, barely months ago he'd been more than willing to personally send Black to the other side for suspecting the man had had anything to do with that treachery. Now…

Now he felt no more than annoyance when finding Sirius Black in his own dining room after apparating Harry here and entering the house together, clinging onto each other, the teen still mostly naked in his arms and exuding wave after wave of positivity. Waves that unfortunately stopped abruptly when noticing they weren't alone.

''My Lord!'' Barty exclaimed, shooting up from his chair only to sink to his knees. Good that at least someone still knew their place. Voldemort was pleased to note that the left sleeve had been pushed back to expose the man's unique mark.

''Explain yourself,'' he stated, raising an eyebrow at Black, who appeared to be frozen in place, eyes wide. They must make quite the sight. Harry had stilled entirely, but as the teen made no move to put distance between them and his general mood wasn't jumping to anxious, the Dark Lord was content to occupy himself with hearing Barty's excuse instead of checking on his partner.

His Right Hand rose again and faced him with full confidence. ''Snape is up to something,'' Barty growled out. ''Black informed me that the man has been… stalking him. As I have the highest level of clearance and know absolutely nothing about this, I had to assume that he is either acting on his own or worse, on Dumbledore orders. As I know Snape to be incredibly persistent, disappearing into the Muggle world wasn't an option this time, so the only place I knew I could fully hide Black was… here.''

''Severus is acting on my orders,'' he assured. Barty's expression faltered. ''Albeit outdated orders,'' he corrected as a spike of nerves travelled from Harry's hands to his. Red eyes bored into grey ones as he focused on Black. ''Evan, get a shower and dressed, you're getting sand everywhere. In the meantime, I'll fill your godfather in on the… change of plans.''

Unsurprisingly, the Gryffindor didn't listen to him – not instantly at least. ''Hadn't expected to see you so soon,'' Harry said with an awkward smile, escaping Voldemort's grip to instead approach his godfather. ''I'd hug you, but I'm kind of wet. I saw the sea for the first time. Well, properly for the first time I mean, not on a shoddy boat in the middle of a storm where I was clinging on for dear life.''

Voldemort tried to keep in mind that Black was like family when he swept Harry up in a tight embrace. The Dark Lord did send out a glare when Barty was about to do the same, a glare that made his follower stay put. This was supposed to be an uninterrupted day, which is why he'd specifically instructed Barty to give Delacour a tour of the office in France in his disguise as Timotheus Crux, expecting it to last well into the evening. Finding him home and in the company of Black was very unwelcome. It was unfortunately unwise to kick either of them out right now, not before changing Severus' orders, with which he'd wait until Harry had to leave to not take up too much time.

He sat and waited, fully aware of that his mere stare would ensure everyone else would hasten to accommodate him. Sure enough, Barty bowed and disappeared into the hallway without another word, giving Harry a shoulder nudge in passing as a sign for him to hurry up. The teen himself also soon excused himself to go wash up after throwing a few glances back and forth, leaving his godfather alone.

''You did not leave a positive impression on me last time,'' he started coldly, eyes trailing Black, who refused to sit down and unnervingly paced back and forth.

''I don't care about your impression of me. Pretty sure it wasn't stellar to start with and that is entirely mutual.''

''So I've heard when you shouted out your biased opinion in front of my following.''

''Biased, yes?'' Sharp teeth blinked even in the relatively dark room. ''I'm sure you had no selfish motives for taking my godson specifically to the ocean at all.''

''I won't waste time attempting to convince you otherwise.'' Black's opinion of him didn't matter in the slightest, attempting to reconcile would be a waste of breath that he wasn't willing to invest in a walking corpse. ''As for what I wish to discuss, Evan told me of your experiments together. He concludes that it would be unwise to erase your memories of the events that led up to you realising you are bound to his will and magic. I shall allow it, on the condition that in return, you follow the contract you previously signed much closer than you have until now.''

Black frowned, looking confused. ''I did follow it! I didn't' tell anyone about you, nor Harry's connection to you, I didn't harm any of your followers…'' he broke off the sentence with an unhealthy sounding series of coughs and rubbed his chest.

Voldemort ignored the pained expression and pressed on. ''You neglected to keep your godson updated on the happenings in the Order.''

''There wasn't anything of importance to report,'' Black mumbled when having caught his breath again, not sounding very apologetic. ''Meetings are all a repetition of everyone running around in circles trying to discover your plans without finding anything. I didn't want to bother Harry with such boring topics. Dumbledore hasn't even attended any meetings personally since Christmas. If I would get a new piece of exciting info, I'd be sure to tell him, but I don't want to waste the little time I have to speak to Harry with rattling off non-happenings just to appease you.''

''Be that as it may, I cannot simply trust you, Black. I don't care if your info is worth nothing, you'll give it to Harry regardless, so I know where you were and whom of the Order you've spoken to at the very least.''

Black looked as if he'd swallowed something sour. ''It's about keeping track of me?''

''Among other things. If I've learnt one thing in my lifetime, it's to never keep your eyes off a Black, for you never know what they end up doing,'' he bitterly stated. It was true for any member of the family, even the ones who'd been on his side. Sending Bellatrix anywhere without supervision could lead to unwanted attention and violence, even if he'd been prone to forgive her for it. And Regulus…

''Right, cause when we don't follow your perfect plans, you just kill us Blacks off, right?'' the other ground out, fire in his eyes, body completely tense. ''Like your attempts on Andromeda's life in the first war? Or when you killed my little brother when he had enough of your reign?''

''Enough of…'' he repeated, arching an eyebrow. ''You truly think that is why Regulus betrayed me? Because he no longer wished to fight for our cause?''

''Of course! What else could there be? Regulus never had the stomach for being a Death Eater, not when outside of safe castle walls and confronted with the real consequences of war.''

Blinking at the man opposite of him, Voldemort finally let go of the last bit of suspicion he'd had. As Harry had insisted, Black truly didn't know. ''Regulus personally killed and tortured several of my enemies,'' he informed the other, whose face resembled someone who'd been hit by a bludger upon hearing that. ''I will not have you slander his name by insisting he was some innocent naïve boy who got in over his head. He knew what he fought for and was a stellar mage with devotion to our cause, much like your godson. The only difference was that your parents poisoned his mind until the point where he could no longer differentiate between truth and propaganda.''

''You blame my parents?'' Black sputtered indignantly. ''I mean, I'm the first person to point fingers at them when it comes to missteps in parenthood, but I fail to see a connection here. They were absolute Pure-blood supremacists.''

''And there lay the fault,'' he darkly spoke. ''I care for magic, Black. And as the old fool has undoubtedly gloated about in the Order, my own heritage is… less than glorious. Enough of this. I will speak of Regulus no longer.''

Black miraculously stayed silent, though his body language screamed out many unspoken thoughts. Involuntary tremors of balled fists, tensing of the crowfeet at his eyes, quick and shallow breaths… Voldemort may not be able to emphasise and understand why, but it wasn't difficult to conclude that Black was furious. Not that it was his problem. ''To not spend any more time today than necessary, I shall only inform Severus on Sunday that he is to search for you no longer.'' Or more likely, he'd simply already wipe the Potion master's own recollection of the events instead. ''As you cannot move anywhere else for the time being, yet are also not to come into my way, your visit is limited to the outside except when I explicitly tell you otherwise. Change into your Animagus form if it makes it more bearable, I don't especially care as long as you remain out of the house itself.''

''You cannot just-''

''This is my house. I very much can,'' he reminded the man with a dangerous edge to his voice, irritation bubbling closer to the surface. He itched to simply hoist Black out of here and throw him far away.

''I don't fucking care about sleeping outside,'' the man snarled back, ''You can't just drop the subject of my murdered little bother and expect me to accept that!''

With a fluid motion, Voldemort rose to his feet, magic sizzling at his fingertips, waiting to be formed into a deadly weapon. He forcefully shut the link connecting him to his partner so Harry wouldn't come downstairs and interrupt.

''You won't kill me,'' Black breathed, face contorted with both anger and a twinge of fear. ''Or hurt me. Harry would be devastated.''

''I don't need to kill you.'' He saw it suddenly, with crystal clarity. The sparks that had danced across his skin receded. ''Unlike you, I am not confined by his happiness. You live only due to my graciousness, killing you would defeat the point of your life being a reward to him. That life does not necessarily include freedom. I can command Dementors if I so wish. It would be all too easy to trap you in a tiny space with one of them.'' He smiled cruelly when Black staggered back as if physically hit. Voldemort inhaled the smell of fear with elation.

Then, inexplicably, that suddenly turned to disgust. Black threw him a glare filled with more loathing than he'd ever had directed at him. ''You… you think of Harry's happiness as a constriction? All this time, he's attempted to convince me that you're a better person than I thought. But it's all an act, isn't it? Do you even have a single shred of love in your distorted soul?''

Those words shouldn't have mattered. Bait from an enemy to be swept aside as nothing more than it was. ''I…'' he started, for once grasping for words, white-hot panic settling in when finding none. Love… that one missing piece, a mind-numbing emotion that Harry had shown him once when asked for in a moment of weakness. No memory of the actual feeling had remained, apart from the knowledge that it had been wonderful… and crushingly unavailable.

'It's okay. I can love plenty for the both of us.'

''Animo Animato Imponi!'' he shouted, drawing his wand with a speed that would make lightning jealous. Before Black knew what hit him, Voldemort had stridden to the side of the bewildered dog, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged the struggling thing with inhuman strength through the orangery and into the garden. ''And stay out!'' he hissed, closing the doors with a force that dangerously rattled the old glass panes. Breathing heavily, Voldemort took a few moments to gather himself, sinking down onto the warm tiles, easily falling into the meditative state he used so often in preparation for draining feats of magic. It was ritual and prayer in one, a way to grasp his purpose as he concentrated only on the source magic that ran rich through the entirety of his body.

Frantic uncertainty was replaced by inner peace. Black had purely been compelled by his own bond with Harry to act like this, that was all. He mistakenly thought that Harry would need to receive love to be happy. That anything less was not enough.

But it had to be.

Ever so slowly, he dropped the barriers again, almost subconsciously searching out the feel of Harry's subtle yet solid magic.

With lighter steps, he left a sufficiently intimidated Black behind in the garden for Barty to deal with, who had crept into the living room to await orders a while after his fight with the dog. Voldemort needed no more than a few unspoken gestures before his follower hurried out into the garden to ensure that Black didn't accidentally stumble across the entrance. Voldemort focused his attention elsewhere: on the one he'd arrived with. He had no intention of letting his plans be disrupted any longer. Neither this evening nor tomorrow. Humans, especially his human, had a tendency of forgetfulness, and he could not even count on dreams to leave as much of an impression as he wished to. Just in case, his partner needed to be reminded of how tight Voldemort's hold was, how close their bond, to fend off the swarms of suitors the famous Harry Potter was sure to attract during his stay at Hogwarts.

As he reached the top of the stairs and placed his left foot on the landing, a loud 'oomph' was to be heard, followed by a half-coughed, half-hissed: ~Don't forget that you are a mighty constrictor and I a mere puny human.~ Looking to the right, he saw a tangle of limbs being smothered by Nagini.

~True, you little sack of bones~ the serpent hissed affectionately, tongue darting out to touch Harry's cheek. Sensing his presence, her head shot up, large yellow eyes seeking his approval across the corridor. Interestingly, her pair of eyes wasn't the only that landed on him in that exact moment. From the moment he'd discovered Harry's true nature, the Dark Lord had of course theorised the teen's sensitivity to his magic to be caused by the piece of soul Harry carried and drawn comparisons to reactions of his familiar. Their exact synchronisation left him feeling as if that connection had not yet been researched closely enough. Was the intensity of their awareness of his proximity the same, regardless of them having minds of their own and being of different species? It would have been uncanny if it hadn't been endlessly fascinating.

~Nagini, as much as you certainly want Evan to pamper you, not today.~

~He will leave again... for a long, long time!~ she complained, unable to comprehend the exact stretch of two and a half months. For Voldemort would wait no longer to draw Harry to his side again than the very first day of the summer holidays this time, protection or ruses be damned. Although it would be infinitely easier now Harry would no longer be confined to the Muggle world under Dumbledore's watch during summer and instead be in the safe hands of Voldemort's own followers, who would never deny him any wish, no matter how ludicrous.

~Exactly, he will leave,~ he spoke, getting a bit irked by how clingy she was. ~He will have to leave us before the next sundown, so he shall remain with me until then! There has been enough time wasted.~ The Hogwarts express would leave at 11 'o clock sharp on the day after tomorrow. Although he'd explained to the Malfoys that Harry would be busy 'helping' him until late tomorrow evening, the teen would need to prepare, pack, and be at King's Cross in time on Sunday morning. He wouldn't be able to spend another night here.

At last, she unhappily uncoiled and slithered away, brushing her head apologetically against Voldemort's leg to appease him. He may not be able to sense her mood like he could with his human Horcrux, but it was calming nonetheless that she indicated that she understood. As he concentrated again on Harry, he realised that for a moment he'd forgotten that Harry perfectly understood Parseltongue and had caught onto his intentions. His partner felt... pleased and flattered. As he should. Voldemort extended a hand, leading his partner to the drawing room.

The place was more messy than usual, Voldemort had been elbow-deep in work before deciding he had enough and finally granted himself some time with Harry. Having needed more space than the study could provide, the floor and tables resembled a horizontal library, covered with files and scrolls. To not disturb the chaotic order he'd formed, Voldemort carefully lifted specific papers off the couch and relocated them to a still-empty corner in the same order as they'd been put in before.

''What is all of this?'' came the astonished question. The teen had picked up one of the files. ''Phoebus Penrose…'' he read out aloud, the name scribbled across the ribbon that tied the stack of parchment together.

''This is the result of my secondary purpose in becoming Chief Editor of the Daily Prophet. As press, it is infinitely easier to gather information on people. Interviews, polls, sent-in letters, all of it combines to create profiles. Of subscribers, their friends and family and of other noteworthy people in our world.''

''All of these files are on individual people?''

Voldemort couldn't pick up whether the tone was leaning more towards impressed or disturbed. He thus carefully responded: ''Yes. To push through my legislations while at the same time avoiding war, it is essential to know what opinions everyone holds and how they can possibly be swayed. I listed every detail I gained on individuals, from their favourite foods to whom they'd be likely to vote for. Naturally, I presented the polls to be processed anonymously, but with the right spells, it was easy to find out whom had written what exactly.''

''Isn't that a breach of privacy?''

Voldemort couldn't hold back a chuckle. ''Of course it is. What alternative method do you propose for gathering this intel, my dear? I noticed that most people protest their homes being broken into to be tortured for that same information.''

''Speaking of torture, how did the talk with Sirius go?'' Harry asked, quickly dropping the subject, Penrose's file being placed back on the table. Voldemort did not answer initially, recalling all that stack of parchment contained. Penrose was one of the more educated wizards that worked at the Ministry, having gained a Professor title at the respectable Accademia di magia applicate in Florence, where he sadly majored only in Muggle studies. Although Voldemort would be the last person to claim Penrose's recent report: 'A Study into Muggle Suspicions about Magic' was useless. It had confirmed his belief that Muggles often came far too close to the truth about magic, from seeing carelessly thrown Quaffles to spotting the Loch Ness monster. Unless firm borders were in place, it would lead to one calamity too many in the future. Penrose did not seem to share that opinion, finding it fascinating how Muggles explained these phenomena away with aliens and dinosaurs, unseeing to the consequences of what would happen once they did reach the correct conclusion.

''Voldemort?'' Harry asked hesitantly at his brooding silence. The Dark Lord tore his eyes away from the file, though he mentally was still busy with forming connections on how to make Penrose see the danger, with which he'd be swayed towards a more careful approach of Muggles and thus a more positive outlook on Voldemort's reforms. Only when meeting worried green eyes, did he focus on the present again.

''Black is out of our hair for now.'' A poor choice of words, by the way Harry raised his eyebrows and threw an impossible-to-miss look at Voldemort's head. ''Not a word,'' he warned when the teen opened his mouth.

''Fine, fine,'' Harry replied, mirth in his eyes. With a last mild glower, the Dark Lord returned to clearing the space and ignited the fireplace, sighing in delight when the warm flames flickered to life. ''It's finally gone,'' the Gryffindor commented vaguely, staring off to the wall. It took a moment until it clicked.

''The remnant of that Muggle? Perhaps you lost your sensitivity.''

''Unlikely, I still saw the one in my dorms the day I left Hogwarts and that one is even a lot older, right? Maybe the castle's magic allows them to remain longer.''

Voldemort hummed noncommittedly. It rankled him that his own predictions hadn't come true – the prediction that Harry would learn to block out those sightings as easily as he had. And that Muggles nor squibs could stick to this plane of existence as long as they apparently could. Was Harry truly that receptive? Or was something else going on? ''Do you still hear whispers too?''

A shrug, followed by: ''Occasionally, I think. So vague that I am never sure whether it's paranoia or the actual dead talking. It doesn't freak me out as much as seeing souls.''

''They're not souls,'' he corrected. ''They're merely… tiny pieces, garbage that's been left behind but which cannot form into anything comprehensible due to a lack of magic that could create a true imprint.''

''Imprints?''

''Ghosts,'' he clarified, sitting down next to Harry and summoning two glasses, filling his own with a rich elf-wine and Harry's with ice-cold juice. More easily than he'd like to admit, Voldemort relaxed into the comfortable couch, half-turning towards his partner. Harry's breath hitched ever so slightly as Voldemort placed a hand on his knee. Magic crackled once more, intermingling like they had done in the Malfoy's ballroom. To steer the teen's mind out of the gutter, he continued his explanation: ''In my research around the topic of death and life, it was imperative to find out where ghosts are placed. What their role is, how they fit between life and the Black cosmos. They clearly have coherent thoughts still, which baffled me at first. At the very start of my years at Hogwarts, I believed that they would be the key to achieving immortality.''

''I sense a 'but' coming.''

''After speaking to several of them for a while, I noticed patterns. Ghosts dwell on the moment of their death most of all and secondly on their fear of said death. They seem to think – if one can call it thinking – that they never 'moved on' and instead stayed behind. After some interesting experiments, I found that this wasn't entirely true.'' Harry sat up straighter, listening with rapt attention, exactly as he liked it. To see how mesmerised the other was by his words… It gave a feel of thrilling accomplishment that was hard to find anywhere else. This is what he enjoyed so much about their interactions: that he could share all of the knowledge of their extraordinary world and know that it was deeply appreciated. If only he could pick the world apart and lay it out for Harry to pour his endless wonder over.

''So what is the truth?'' Harry impatiently spurred him on.

For a second, the wide-eyed look of enthralled emerald eyes made him forget to continue, until Harry nudged him softly. Clearing his throat, he explained: ''You know the basic theory of the components making up a mage being Animus, Corpus, Mens, Vita and, most importantly, Magia. Can you follow the logic behind that theory to determine which apply to a ghost?''

To his great pleasure, Harry neither blanched nor pulled a face at the question. Voldemort was certain that many of the teen's peers had a far more negative attitude to being asked to actively think instead of simply waiting for someone to explain the universe to them. ''By way of exclusion, ghosts don't have a body and as they're pretty much the definition of dead, I'd say that life is out too. Then again, none of the books I read actively talked about what the force of life is. When transferring it to Sirius, it all went very instinctual.''

''They indeed do not have life. Life needs an anchor to exist on this plane in a recognisable shape. You'd be hard pressed to find it without a physical form. I am one of the few beings on this earth who managed to live outside of my body and that only as the Horcruxes acted as substitutes. They are not mere vessels for the soul itself, they also ensure nothing else can leave.''

Harry looked sufficiently impressed. ''Okay… so no life and no body. They have to possess magic though. Even if they can't seem to wield it, the difference between ghosts and muggle remnants is, as you said, that magic keeps them together.''

''A rudimentary way of describing the process, but I'll let it pass. And…?''

For a while, Harry stared into space. By the way his mouth moved, Voldemort noticed that the other was chewing on the tip of his own tongue. ''Your Mark!'' he suddenly exclaimed. ''It has to be Mens.''

''I'd love to hear how you connected the Dark Mark to that conclusion.'' For truly, he could not see it. The Mark was a modified Protean charm, it did not have a mind of its own.

''Not the mark itself, I was thinking of how you adapted it to… to deal with traitors. Like Wormtail'' He did pull a face now. ''You said you were not as cruel as to make the Mark devour their soul for all eternity like Dementors do, but it devours their Mens, right? And with it all consciousness, all memories and the sense of self. If the mind encompasses all of that, then ghosts have to have a mind. So ghosts are… a mind that is kept on this earth with sheer magic?''

Voldemort bowed his head minimally in acknowledgement. ''Correct in its basic essence. There are of course complications. If the Mens does not move on, hampered by fear or a traumatic death, it becomes tremendously damaged, which is the reason why ghosts are considered a pale reflection of the person they were when alive and also why they focus so much on their end. Do keep in mind that none of this has any bearing on their soul, which very much does pass onto the Black Cosmos still regardless of will.''

''Because it all separates. That's why Necromancers have to use a Veil to keep everything attached to each other. It would all split into parts otherwise.''

''Indeed. And we as individuals are forever lost,'' he warned.

''Is that why you are afraid of dying?'' Harry softly asked. ''Truly dying, I mean.''

He took a deep breath and gathered his magic all around him in reflex. Curiosity turned quickly into concern. ''It is now,'' he whispered. ''It wasn't always, but there's been no form of death that I could ever accept. Not hell, not oblivion, certainly not what it turned out to be: a place that unravels all that makes up the man I am now. Existing on another plane makes no sense if it obliterates me. Especially as a Necromancer, I know that the dead do not compare. Minds become one with the cosmos and retain very few individual memories. Souls, the essence of us all, is useless without being attached to anything else. It would be an existence without magic, what could be more terrifying than knowing I would lose that which is most precious to me?'' Even the one instance that he'd experienced in which two people had truly been put together again, showing that it was possible, they hadn't belonged here anymore, the connection so fragile that it broke after minutes. ''What's more, if I am gone, then all I worked for would be forgotten in time, trampled on and twisted by others. I cannot let that happen.''

He didn't push Harry away when the teen suddenly hugged him tightly, but neither did he return the gesture, thoughts having turned to a dark place from which it was always difficult to return.

''As long as I live, you can never die,'' Harry promised with a whisper. ''Because I keep your soul safe, and with that your entire existence.'' A much smaller, rougher hand took his. ''I will do everything I can to keep on living.''

''You keep promising me everything,'' the Dark Lord muttered. ''I don't think you know what that word means.''

''I did get that far into a dictionary,'' Harry smiled, a tad sad. ''You know that I love compromises and I'll try my hardest to ensure I keep everyone I care for safe. But if it comes down to it…'' His Adam's apple bobbed upon swallowing. ''If it's you or them, it'll always be you.''

''That's not what I picked up from your conversations with Barty,'' Voldemort spoke with suspicion. ''Nor from your many discussions with me either, for that matter. Did your sense of misguided reason and morale leave you? No second thoughts about what to do when I decide a war will be more effective?''

The eloquent reply was a shrug and a head with messy hair that slumped on his right shoulder. ''We weren't in a relationship then. That was my opinion before we were even friends. Things change.''

Voldemort attempted to analyse that statement but had too little information. By his knowledge, absolutely nothing had changed. It was still just as likely as before that either the Ministry or Dumbledore would force his hand into a war, that he would free his Death Eaters or even take Hogwarts by force so the next generation would not stay in his enemies' hands. However, asking would mean admitting that he struggled with understanding Harry, which he wished to avoid at all costs. He was a Lord of Magic, for Merlin's sake! He could command storms and raise the dead, why was simple communication so difficult?

The hand that still held his gave a slight squeeze. ''I mean that I trust that you're not, and never will become, someone I truly have to fear,'' came the answer to his unspoken question.

''Is that meant to be an insult?'' he asked, affronted by the idea that he would not be frightening. ''You admitted that you were terrified of me!''

A wonderful laugh filled the room. ''Do you want me to be terrified of you still?''

''A bit of healthy fear would not be amiss.''

Harry sighed. ''Unfortunately, I'd be lying if I said that your actions don't frighten me at times. When you directed your wand at me recently, I wasn't sure how it would end. But I don't want to be afraid of someone I love, so I declare right here and now that I won't be any longer. Look, I can't believe that I am spelling this out, but I wouldn't be together with someone I fear will hurt me. By extension, I will have to let go of those fears I held about you turning into some raving madman who'll drench the world in death. I know you're very capable of it, but you're also reasonable and found out already that it's not the right way to go about fulfilling your task for Magic. So, I will have faith in you, 'cause I honestly don't think I could mentally handle anything else.''

It almost felt like sacrilege to accept the trust his partner put in him. More than trust, Harry spoke of love again. Voldemort wished to prod at the topic, dance around it with silver words until the truth would be drawn from the lips he'd found out to be so pleasant when warming his own. But subtlety was so incredibly wasted on this dense Gryffindor that it would be far too much effort to try.

''Does it bother you that I cannot love you back?''

The words echoed through their link while Voldemort felt his own magic still in anticipation. There had to have been a better way of asking this, yet it was too late. Black had truly gotten deeper under his skin than he'd wished to. He studied Harry's face as much as the tangle of emotions between them as the teen's head lifted again to look at him directly. Would there be pity? Or empty hope of that surely, he'd learn in time?

''Do I need to repeat the words that you took as a sign of that we're together?'' Harry merely asked, neither compassion nor anger in his words. ''Because I will if you want me to, as many times as you need to hear it. I thought at one point that it would be impossible for me to be with someone who could never love me. That I'd be devastated or unhappy. But I'm not. All the time I spend with you is… wonderful. You accept me for who I am, indulge in my millions of questions, protect me without attempting to keep me from the outside world, rather encouraging me to see more of it than I ever have. You've given me more than I ever thought I deserved. That you want me, care for my wellbeing, even if it's slightly rooted in selfishness for me carrying your soul… it's enough. I love you. You might not reciprocate my feelings exactly, but you still gave me a chance. If you show the same thoughtfulness for the rest of eternity, then I don't see what I'm supposed to be missing.''

There seemed to be no other appropriate response than to close the gap between them further, warm breath against his lips. As Harry's had been parted in surprise, he finally got a taste of the inside, kissing the tip of a hot tongue before retreating again. The teen gave him a dazed smile before leaning back into the couch again, humming happily.

''Did I ever thank you for staying over after the ball and giving me a hangover potion?'' he suddenly asked.

''Even if you did, I never tire of being appreciated,'' Voldemort smirked.

''Of course, I forgot whom I was speaking to,'' the other shot back with an even wider grin. ''You should probably get me another potion soon. I feel like you might have just made me drunk again.''

Oddly enough, he could feel it, a tipsy dizziness exuding from Harry. ''There's nothing in your drink,'' he assured, casting the glass a doubting look. ''Or there shouldn't be.''

To his surprise, Harry merely laughed at that. ''It's not the drink. Never mind. I'll just sleep it off.''

''If you are certain… you aren't ill, are you?'' he pushed. The slightly drowsy head shake that he received wasn't convincing him otherwise.

''Here,'' the other offered, scooting impossibly closer and putting a warm palm against his right cheek. The instant it touched his skin, his mind was flooded with the most marvelous light.

''Oh,'' he breathed, the last thing he could utter before being enclosed in perfect, warm safety.

XxX

Time was the strangest experience that even magic would never be able to explain. One day with Voldemort felt like a blissful eternity, moments piled on top of each other as the hours stretched on. Saturday started with a lavish breakfast - to which a very surly Sirius had surprisingly been invited – combined with lengthy talks: about the future of the newspapers and Harry's well-received report on Fleur that had finalized the Dark Lord's decision to make her his successor, followed by a discussion about Harry's own future career wishes during which Voldemort had some very insightful information about different types of healing and recommendations for teaching positions at various schools if Harry rather would wish to go that route. Even Sirius had broken his own cold staring to give pointers eventually.

Afterwards, the Dark Lord had recreated the ritual that Harry had missed most of during Ostara due to drowning himself in misery. It was a smaller version, just for Harry, filled with nature and fire magic, the smell of burning, fresh herbs wafting through the house and not leaving his nose for hours.

Most of the remaining morning and early afternoon were then spent with a familiar combination of work and pleasure: Voldemort zapping them around various countries to scour remote locations for rare ingredients that all disappeared into the black satchel he'd seen before, which turned out to be bigger on the inside, leading to yet another flood of patiently answered questions about expansion charms.

When returning home, they started brewing multiple potions at once, shared magic, and talked until Harry's throat felt hoarse. Voldemort allowed him to be present when binding the newly harvested sea serpent scale to the old one and taught him scrying, showing a myriad of different locations in both the magical and the Muggle world.

And suddenly, it was evening again, the only warning Harry's rumbling stomach. Humming happily, he went to search for some food in the kitchen to make a late dinner with, because he trusted neither of the other two men who would be willing to cook to actually produce an edible meal.

''You look happy.''

Harry lifted his head to greet Barty, then saw both the Death Eater and Sirius were hovering in the doorway. He hadn't seen Sirius for most of the day – Voldemort had said something about not wishing to be disrupted – so Harry was pleasantly surprised by his godfather's presence. ''I didn't put a salt line across the threshold, it's safe to come in even for a pair of malicious demons like you two,'' he jested.

''Should we really take that chance?'' Sirius asked, dramatically placing one foot across, then pulling it back and exclaiming ''Ow, it burns so bad! He tricked us, Crouch! No demons can enter this place.''

Rolling his eyes, Barty barged into the kitchen and threw himself on the only available chair. With a languid wave of his wand, a shimmering shield appeared in the doorway that told Harry a silencing barrier had been cast. He pursed his lips, only a few topics coming to mind that the others wouldn't want Voldemort to overhear.

''I look happy because I am happy,'' he clarified, turning his attention back to the pot of mashed potatoes and endive. ''Being in this house again is amazing, I always forget how much I miss this place until I return here.'' Maybe it was odd to get so attached to a building, but it did help that by now, the walls were drenched in Voldemort's magic, making him aware of it with each breath and step he took.

''Right, it's the house that turned you into a bubbly butterfly,'' Sirius sarcastically said, a sharp edge to his voice.

''Stop it, Black. You're going to ruin this by unnecessary talk.''

''Unnecessary? I thought we had an alliance!'

''One that backfired spectacularly. Do you know how frustrating it is to be aware of having implanted memories without any clue as to what the originals were?''

Harry whipped around. ''You know about that?''

''My Lord told me straight that it has been modified,'' Barty spoke with shockingly little care. ''It does hurt that he did not have enough confidence in me to keep my memories but then again, I trust my Lord's judgement on what I can and cannot know. Some parts are not hard to deduce, however. Whatever truly happened that evening was surely more than public courting if you suddenly show up here fresh from the beach, stay the night - not in your own room – and spend the entire day following him around to who knows where alone. I'm not stupid. Besides, you know my opinion. All of it.''

The Gryffindor swallowed down a scathing reply. Yes, Barty had said multiple times that he was being too impulsive and certainly too young to be dallying with the Dark Lord, but his friend had also comforted Harry at Samhain, right after figuring out the romantic feelings he harboured. Barty was not against this relationship, Harry reminded himself. The Death Eater had spoken of taking chances, of their rare connection, and had been mortified by the thought that he of all people might have driven large enough of a permanent wedge between Voldemort and Harry that he'd started dating someone from Durmstrang instead. Even the attempts to place distance between them at the Ball had been to protect their reputations first and foremost, not to introduce Harry to other options like Sirius had done. Barty was literally only squeamish about the timing.

''I know, thanks for reminding me.'' he thus spoke with a wry smile. ''We are together. Like, officially.'' It was impossible to keep the happy grin off his face, so he didn't even try.

''Oh, finally,'' Sirius sighed in apparent relief, which earned him two strange looks. ''I mean, I'm glad you finally told Barty. I tried but couldn't, not even when attempting to frame it sneakily. Man, is it good that I can now talk about it.'' It wasn't terribly surprising that Sirius had felt compelled not to speak of it, considering how unpredictable Barty could sometimes be. If his reaction were negative, it definitely would hurt Harry. A reaction he waited for nervously.

''Don't forget to keep on your toes,'' Barty simply responded, sounding more tired than ever. Had he at long last seen that the struggle of saving Harry's innocence had been lost? ''If I couldn't get you to listen to me regarding the wisdom of revealing your feelings to him already, at least take some simple advice.'' Knowing that saying 'no' wasn't an option, Harry mentally prepared himself, embarrassed over being reprimanded. Sirius watched with interest, not looking as if he was about to put in his own two Knuts. ''First of all, don't get hurt. And if you do, know that you have a safety net, Evan. My words and wand are yours – as long as you do not ask me to use them directly against my Lord, of course. Secondly,'' he continued before Harry had a chance to feel grateful. ''Don't hurt him. Because if so…''

''You'll personally rip my head clean from my shoulders, I know,'' he sighed. ''Didn't forget about that threat, thank you.''

''No-one is ripping anyone's head off!'' Sirius aggressively growled.

''I'm sure he didn't mean it literally,'' Harry quickly attempted to reassure him. ''I'm almost done here by the way,'' he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the bubbling stamppot. He put in several finely chopped cubes of cheese and bacon and put the lid on. ''That just needs a bit on low heat to incorporate the flavour, I recon we can eat in a minute or ten.''

''Brilliant, then we can finally drag you away from here to show what we actually came for!'' Barty exclaimed, jumping up energetically. ''Forget about your love life for a second, okay? I have a promise to make good on!''

Glad for the conversation to take another turn, he followed his godfather out the door, who was already running ahead, through the corridor, the dining room and into the orangery. Although he continued into the garden, Harry did not, bewildered by the sight: large blooms of frost covered the glass, white flakes whirling through the cracks between the panes and the open doors. ''Come on!'' Sirius shouted, grabbing hands full of April snow to quickly form a whole pile of snowballs.

''A snow battle,'' Harry spoke, baffled, giving a smirking Barty a sideway glance. ''I didn't think it would ever happen. Is it actually snowing or…?''

''Not outside of this dimension if that's what you're asking. Look, there's very local clouds. It turns out that Black is a bit of an expert regarding weather magic, who would've thought?''

Harry reflexively side-stepped a projectile that was hurled his way. ''You're going to regret that!'' he yelled, half-ducking as he ran out to gather his own ammunition. It took no time at all until a three-way fight was taking place – although Harry had the feeling that it was more often than not a two-against-one as the others had him ducking and running with his tongue on his heels to avoid getting hit. Only a few minutes in, the snow was flying towards him from all sides, aided by magic. Food was all but forgotten as he used an Oppugno charm to send waves of pellets back in zigzags and wide arches.

Mid-throw, Harry froze and looked up to the balcony, where Voldemort was lazily leaning over the balustrade. ''Only one of you is a child, yet I truly cannot tell who started this,'' he drawled. Sirius eyed the Dark Lord with the same poorly hidden hostility as during breakfast, while Barty quickly attempted to make the snowball he was holding disappear from sight behind his back, worried about being met with disapproval. Harry simply changed his aim. Voldemort's reflexes were excellent, he admired when his partner plucked the snowball out of the air and crushed it with his hand instead of avoiding it. A snap of thin fingers later, white walls rose from the ground and whammed against the teen's side, knocking him onto the cold, wet ground.

''Hey!''

Harry thought to see a hint of a smirk on pale lips before Voldemort retreated indoors. The appearance had distracted him so much that he forgot to duck out of the way of the next salvo Barty shot his way.

A loud crack sounded and Barty was sent flying, landing in a heap of snow with a gobsmacked face. Harry blinked, then picked up one of the dense balls that hadn't hit him at all, noticing the crystals had been packed so tightly that the core had turned to ice. ''That would have hurt me,'' he simply stated, tossing it back to the ground. ''Are you okay?''

The Death Eater gave two thumbs up, wincing as he scrambled back to his feet. ''Owow, I guess I'm going to have some bruises. Good that you don't play Quidditch anymore, imagine what would happen if a Beater purposefully smacked a Bludger your way to knock you out. There'd be no beaters left by the end of the year.''

''True, especially with my record of actually being hit by Bludgers,'' Harry sheepishly admitted.

Sirius, who'd let all of his own ammunition fall to the ground at the incident, walked up to check if his godson was truly unharmed. ''Is this what killed me?'' he softly asked, frowning.

Sobering up instantly at the mention of Sirius' death, Harry carefully nodded. ''Voldemort gave me a protective shield that casts damage back at the attacker. It works on both magical and physical attacks, although only when an action was meant to hurt. An Acromantula that accidentally broke my leg with its weight when jumping on me remained unscathed until it tried to bite my face off and got ripped to shreds.'' Somehow, this information didn't calm the man down. Quite the opposite, he started trembling with fury and whipped around to face Barty, wand at the ready.

''You tried to harm him?'' he snarled.

''It's a battle!'' Barty protested, holding up his hands. ''Nothing too bad, but we're not having a pillow fight! Besides, they fly much straighter and faster when compressed!'' He jumped out of the way when Sirius stormed straight at him.

''Siri!'' Harry shouted. ''Barty's right, it would be a lot less fun without a little risk involved. Just look at Quidditch. Or hell, even exploding snap.'' His godfather skidded to a halt right before reaching the Death Eater, looking a bit lost. He breathed heavily; one hand pressed to his chest. ''Come on, we should probably get inside to warm up with food. I surely hope it's not overcooked now, although I guess there's not much that can go wrong with mash.''

---

''One more trip for the day,'' Voldemort spoke. Outside, the grey sky showed no sign of change yet, but when looking at the old clock, he noticed it was after eight o' clock in the evening already. Having finished dinner only shortly ago and still full from it, he drowsily looked up from the couch he'd been lounging on. Nagini hissed at the movement. She'd been immensely pleased when being told that she'd finally be allowed some cuddle time. Like he'd already noticed at the Ball, the serpent had recovered well by now from the attack during the Christmas holidays, daring to leave Voldemort's side again as long as he was still in the vicinity – or she was in the comfortable space of her home.

''It's rainy, can't we just stay here?'' he yawned, not wanting to get up and certainly not out.

Sternly, the other answered: ''No, we cannot just stay here. My schedule will be adhered to. I'll tell you where this time, so there won't be any large surprises,'' he hissed. ''There is a forest that's home to many interesting magical animals. You've already seen the ones I wish to show you, but not to the extent you should. Come.''

Admittedly, it did sound appealing, even if the scarce information told him barely anything about their actual destination. He'd have been very enthusiastic about it if his feet hadn't hurt so much from running up and down hills and fields for most of the day already in search of potion ingredients. Or if he hadn't eaten so much. Or if it would have been earlier on the day still. As expected though, Voldemort was relentless as always. Once he had a plan in mind, no-one was to get in the way of that. It must be hell to be one of the reporters working under a man who knew no compromise.

While Harry willed his tired legs to move and gave Nagini a few scratches on her forehead as an apology, he thought about the fate of the Daily Prophet and especially Fleur as the new Chief Editor. Hopefully for the employees, she'd be an improvement to have as a boss. It was still rather amazing that Harry's honest commentary on the woman's character (containing quite a few 'I don't know's) had been enough to convince his partner to hire her. She was to take over very soon indeed, 'Noctua' was only to stay in office for one and a half more week. Harry hadn't known the situation was so dire and hated Umbridge – who clearly had had her filthy hands in it – even a bit more than he had previously. He wished to see her ugly shocked face when discovering that the part-Veela she so despised and had ridiculed was the one taking the reins.

''Do you actually have something big planned for your last days as Editor?'' he asked when done getting ready, having thrown on a cloak and put his boots back on. ''A large shocking reveal? Something you've been working on?''

''Tempting though it may be, no,'' was the surprising answer. ''It would be unwise,'' Voldemort clarified while they walked down the stairs and through the front door into the garden. ''If Fudge sees it as a last act of rebellion, he may not recognise my choice of successor, which would put Ms Delacour in a precarious position and ruin my future plans for the press. Moreover, I wish to keep the persona of Noctua to move in certain circles – discrediting him would limit my influence. That is also the reason why I am taking Fudge's gold and pretending to retire of my own free will instead of fighting tooth and nail until he has to openly fire me. Hurry now, we shouldn't dawdle.''

As they approached the group of trees which hid the entrance to their bubble dimension, Harry faltered once more however, when catching a whiff of a familiar odour that he'd so far only smelled when hugging Voldemort close. The man was several strides ahead now, though. Confused, he gazed at a couple of shrubs that had been planted alongside the path. Magnificent indigo flowers produced the strong scent, he recognised. It took a moment before he identified them as flutterby bushes, which he'd learned to take care of in Herbology class before. So far, Sprout had only shown them when not in bloom. Had Voldemort enchanted these things to smell like him? Sure, the man had an ego, but Harry hadn't thought that the Dark Lord was especially fond of his own scent.

''Evan-'' the man started, then broke off, minimally cocking his head. ''I hadn't realised they were blooming. I must hurry to harvest them in that case, they produce flowers only once a century, for no longer than a couple of days.''

''This may be a stupid question…'' Harry said, leaning down close to inhale the scent once more to be absolutely sure. ''But why do they smell like this?''

''Like what?'' Voldemort asked, far too carefully neutral. For all talk of hurrying, the way he sauntered over wasn't terribly fast. His nostrils flared when approaching. ''They're odourless to me,'' he concluded. ''What do you think they smell of?''

''Like you,'' he declared, which annoyingly earned him a startled laugh.

''How… interesting.'' The tone was far too satisfied. Then, Voldemort's smile faltered a bit as he sniffed the air again, closer now to the flower's delicate petals. ''Do me a favour Evan, and already go on ahead.''

Slightly thrown off by the request – the entire conversation to be honest – the Gryffindor did as asked, stopping only right before the entrance, turning to see Voldemort's contemplating expression. When mentally reaching out, he picked up confusion. It didn't take long, the other snapped out of it as soon as he noticed Harry's intrusion. With long strides, Voldemort reached him, giving no explanation as they stepped through the entrance and instantly apparated away while still within the field of spells that made them invisible to all who might look on from the outside.

They arrived smack in the middle of dense, dark woods. After going for fourteen years with the only forest he'd ever set foot in being the Forbidden one at Hogwarts, Harry instantly attempted to compare it with all others he'd seen in the past year. Not even a year. The forest of Brecheliant had been lush with life and light, the Scandinavian one mysterious and tall with pine trees reaching up to the stars, and the woods he'd entered with Sirius this very holiday had been oddly plain, very Muggle with its mishmash of shrubs and drooping branches. This one was closest to the woods he was most painfully familiar with, so close that he almost thought they'd see the proud towers of Hogwarts if they'd reach the edge. ''Where are we?'' he whispered.

''You'll see soon enough.'' Voldemort didn't even try to be silent, putting his hands to his mouth and letting out an unearthly, low humming sound that reverberated through Harry's chest. After a minute, the sound was repeated, louder this time. Not entirely sure what exactly his partner was trying to lure here from the depths of the thicket, he stared intently into the darkness, aware of every sound, ever movement. A tremor beneath his feet was the first sign that something was approaching. The sound of hooves followed soon after. Then, they were suddenly there, two hauntingly skeletal horses.

''Thestrals?'' he asked in surprise. True, Voldemort had said that Harry had already seen them before. What the Dark Lord probably didn't know was that he'd also been up close before, and not just when pulling carts. Hagrid's lesson on the creatures had been one of the most interesting and safe Care of Magical Creatures sessions so far.

The man stretched out a slow hand, waiting. He looked like a graceful statue, the only movement coming from the slowly fluttering robes that hugged his upper frame before spreading out into the wind. Without any hint of nervousness, one of the winged, dragonish horse stepped close and pushed its nose against Voldemort's palm. With the same care he usually only showed Nagini, the man gave a few gentle strokes up and down the Thestral's forehead. ''Severus informed me that these were shown during class,'' he mentioned, proving Harry wrong. ''However, I'm certain some misinformation was spread as Hagrid only attempts to understand the creatures he so desperately wishes to like him.''

''Hagrid was great in handling them,'' Harry instantly jumped to his friends' defence. ''They also came soon after he called.'' Though it hadn't been with the same sound, he noted. Hagrid had uttered shrieks and bribed the beasts with raw meat. They'd looked far more hesitant to approach than these two. Startled, Harry noticed that one had silently walked around them with a wide arch and now put its head on Harry's shoulder from behind, an eye that was supposedly blind seeming to stare right through his soul.

''I'm sure he was… great.'' Voldemort cynically answered.

''They allowed a whole bunch of us to pet them, so I'd say they were comfortable in the end,'' Harry still protested nonetheless.

A humourless smile appeared on the serpentine face, giving Voldemort an almost cruel look. ''Pet them, possibly. But surely not fly them.''

''What-'' Before knowing what was happening, Voldemort was with him in two strides and lifted Harry on the back of the entirely docile creature. He attempted to grab onto something – anything – hoping he wouldn't hurt the Thestral when holding onto the stubby spikes that lined the back of its neck. ''Since you don't have confidence in Hagrid's knowledge-'' he frowned. ''I do hope these creatures aren't actually unlucky?''

''Did he try to sell you that hogwash?''

''No, convinced us of the opposite,'' Harry said, pettily pleased when Voldemort's lips thinned even more than usual.

''Perhaps he does have some facts right. Taught you an awful lot about them?''

''Didn't have the chance, sadly,'' he replied while carefully stroking the strange hide with one hand. ''Umbridge was sabotaging the class, going around asking the stupidest questions and making assumptions. Hagrid barely got a word out without receiving twenty back in criticism. The only new things I learned was that they are carnivores and have a great sense of direction. Can supposedly find any place.''

''Not just that. They are deeply magical. The fact that only those who have seen death may gaze upon their forms is only one of its manifestations of their inherent magic. While their natural flight speed is faster than any broom, around 180 miles per hour, they can also warp their own speed with magic, permitting them to glide through time, virtually allowing them to reach distances much further away in a shorter time than it should take.''

''I'm surprised that they're not more common then. Kept for transport and such, apart from pulling carriages.''

''In some countries, they are. However, travelling at those speeds on a Thestral's back is not recommended except for emergencies, it's incredibly uncomfortable. That being said, you should still know how to ride one.'' Voldemort gave the Thestral Harry was sitting on a nudge. There was no time to see whether Voldemort mounted the other one or not, as the creature shot out, going in full gallop across the forest floor without hitting any of the thick trunks. Not even a single branch whipped in Harry's face. To each side of him, the black folds spread apart, and Harry hung on for dear life as it lifted off into the air, both fists clenched tight now around the spikes while feeling he might slip off and plummet to his death at any moment. At least Buckbeak had had feathers to grab everywhere just in case… now, there was only skin stretched taunt over bone.

And then the lurching flight upwards stopped, wings quivering in the wind as they soared. Carefully, Harry opened his eyes to the most breath-taking sight.

The Black Lake shimmered with the reflection of a hundred lit windows. The silhouette of countless towers of all shapes and sizes created a perfect harmony against the cloudy, sleet grey sky, which was occasionally lit by a strike of lightning from a nearby storm. Hogwarts. His home.

Soundlessly, the second Thestral slid into view. Voldemort looked perfectly at ease, not even bothering to hold on with two hands, wand in one as always. Harry wished he could capture this moment, the man's face serene for once at he stared longingly at the castle he was denied entry to. It was quite far away, which made sense as they'd been able to apparate into the forest and were thus outside of the castle's wards. Harry was reminded of Samhain, where the Locket-Horcrux had led him beyond the wards as well to a place of power in this very forest.

They flew closer, but inevitably the Thestrals made a sharp turn, flapping their heavy wings into another direction, heading towards the mountain peaks. They were bare of snow, but the biting cold remained. Harry wished he could cast a warming charm, but once again did not wish to risk being traced – not when right outside the one place he was legally allowed to cast magic in.

''It wasn't about the Thestrals, was it?'' he asked, having to yell over the wind. He risked a glance over his shoulder towards the inviting lights.

No answer came, Voldemort instead produced the low sound again, which was echoed by both Thestrals. They split up, the Dark Lord flying up high while his 'own' Thestral seemed content to stay as they were, gliding leisurely through the night. It felt comfortable, and Harry started feeling more secure as time went by, daring to look down at the tiny trees straight below.

It felt strange to not be in control like on the broom, as he didn't know how to steer the creature. Having an idea, he leaned forwards and whispered: ''I don't know if you can understand me, but can we go a bit faster? I'd like to know-'' before he was finished speaking, the mighty wings thundered in the wind and they gained speed, as if the Thestral had been waiting for a moment to show off. A bubbly laugh slipped from the teen's lips as the landscape blurred. Adrenaline like he'd never felt rushed through his veins. Harry hardly cared for the way his eyes started to water or how difficult it became to breathe. All that mattered was the rush, the neck-breaking speed.

His heart was still beating wildly as the Thestral slowed down again, falling back into a glide. Harry admired the powerful wings. To fly like this, unrestrained, with wings of his own… Something dawned on him, as very similar wings had sprouted from his own shoulders before. What had he been so afraid of all this time? Becoming something that could take to the skies freely, losing himself in the thrilling feel of flight – he studied the beat of the wings more thoroughly, the way they hugged the wind, how they trembled with force. What could ever beat this? That damned blockade was all in his head… He'd held himself back before with fear, just like when he'd tried to practise apparition, just like when he'd failed to produce a Patronus. Both of those times, it had suddenly been as easy as breathing when realising he'd already done both, experienced both. Now too, he was flying in a similar way as he would be able to if he only gave in. If he only transformed.

He didn't fear the Trace, not with this. Sirius had reverted back to his Animagus form even in Azkaban, Harry didn't need a wand. The storm rumbled in the distance. ''Amato Animo Animato Animagus,'' he whispered, heart never stopping its thudding from excitement. Could it work without the potion? Had he drunk enough of it in the past? They'd never truly figured out whether taking it each time was necessary. Time to find out the hard way. He repeated the spell, focusing on the feel of flying, of the wings beside him, the darkness around.

The creature he'd been riding became larger, the evening sky stretched on endlessly for a moment, much sharper than before. It was as if he'd put on new glasses again, each detail of the Thestral containing a richness he'd never though possible. He was able to admire it for only a moment until the wind knocked him off. He struggled in panic, as his arms – now stretched long and having far more skin – and legs – sharp claws – were trapped in something heavy. Plummeting, he released a scared shriek. A red flash cut through the air, ripped away whatever had confined him, and Harry – not Harry, the name didn't feel right – at last spread brand-new wings.

He flew.

It could have lasted a lifetime or a few moments. As concluded before, time was the ficklest thing. He knew naught but the open skies and the enticing smells of nature all around until being plucked out of the air, enveloped by the warmest smell of all, the same one that had exuded from the deep blue flowers he'd admired earlier. Wings trembled as he hooked into soft robes and snuggled into the one who'd caught him.

They landed with a shock. ''You'll have to turn back now,'' he heard, a whisper near sensitive ears. Fingers tried to pry him off, but he only held on tighter, grunting and squealing in protest. A sigh, then the awful feeling of being pressed through a tube and at long last, a pleasant warmth drying his fur as he was brought close to flickering flames. ''Evan, don't make me turn you with magic. Remember who you are.''

The name triggered something. Evan… a name he used as an escape from reality, much like this form. He was no bat, as much as he wished to remain as one. With a last disappointed shriek, he reverted back, becoming larger and having much less hair than before. Harry blinked, unaccustomed again to the blurry sight, although when he felt around his nose, his glasses were still on. It was one of the few things that had stayed on, along with the snake fang pendant that shielded his mind – worn more as decoration since learning Occlumency. Getting warm when realising he was sprawled practically naked across Voldemort's lap, the teen hurried to will his limbs to move again, grabbing the neat pile of folded clothes that lay next to them on the sofa. Had his partner honestly thought to catch the robes as they'd fallen off, before landing on the treetops? Or were these new, conjured garments? He tried to fixate on that thought instead of the state he'd transformed back in, while dressing again.

''Since when have you been an Animagus?''

Harry's thought halted when recognising the astonished wonder in Voldemort's voice. Almost… respect. ''Since now,'' he honestly answered. ''I've practised before, of course, but I never completed the transformation. Knowing I was a creature with wings, most likely a bat of some sorts, I was… inspired by the Thestral I suppose.''

''One does not simply become inspired to complete the Animagus transformation without taking the necessary steps. The spells, the potion, the storms..''

''It was storming,'' Harry shrugged. ''There was lightning above Hogwarts. I also cast the spell. As an adult wizard was near, the Trace on myself shouldn't have been triggered and it technically doesn't need a wand. As for the potion… I used up nearly all I had during practise before. We used a method described by Sirius, which he and my dad used when teenagers. Rather than drinking the entire potion at the end and hoping for the best, we took small sips each time during practise. Perhaps it was enough, Animagi supposedly don't need it anymore after transforming once and I did transform partially.''

''We? Is there a bunch of teenage Animagi in Hogwarts that I am unaware of?'' the other asked, sounding alarmed.

Harry laughed sheepishly. ''Just two that I know of, including me.''

''The Muggleborn, the clever one,'' Voldemort guessed, narrowing his eyes. Harry grinned, secretly happy that the Dark Lord recognised someone with 'tarnished blood' would have the skills to pull it off.

''No, Hermione would have pestered me endlessly to register, I'm sure. It doesn't matter.''

''It does, but time is not on our side. Lucius has attempted to contact me through the Mark multiple times already, it seems he's getting a bit anxious about how long his new charge is away.'' Was that sadness that Harry felt through the annoyance? Surely not.

''Since I couldn't exactly look into a mirror, could you at least tell me what I transformed into?'' he hurriedly asked. ''I want to read up on what I am and what it means! I'm sure it's some type of bat but… I always thought bats were blind and I could see perfectly. Better than perfect!''

Voldemort tiredly rubbed the flat bridge of his nose. ''Pteropus alecto'' he answered. ''Have fun in the Hogwarts library searching for it.'' He stilled, giving Harry an intense look. ''I'm proud of you,'' he unexpectantly spoke. Sucking in a breath, the Gryffindor stilled and drank in those words of praise. ''Not many your age would even attempt such advanced magic. You have come a long way since you came crawling to my door.''

''I didn't crawl!'' Harry indignantly exclaimed. ''I waltzed right in. If anyone crawled, it was you!''

It spoke volumes that his remark was met by a mere chuckle. Just months ago, Harry would have feared for his life after uttering such thoughtless words.

They'd both come a long way.

---

I have to admit that I allowed my inner fangirl to rage a bit in this chapter.
Please tell me what you thought of their long, long date and which part was your favourite :P
xx GeMerope