Okay so you know how I mentioned a bunch of scenes that were going to happen in the next chapter?
Well my muse decided differently, so I instead bring you a Valentine's Day special early upload of a scene that just needed to be written instead.
Enjoy!
Chapter 87 - Promises
The whispered promise haunted Harry over the next two days and likely would for the foreseeable future. What had possessed him to ask Voldemort for that memory? Had he been too giddy from the storm of feelings? Drunk from the realisation of just how much the older wizard felt when recalling even the most basal conversation they'd shared? It had been an overwhelming realisation that had only strengthened his faith in that he'd made the right decision. He was not as concerned anymore about love, certainly not to the extent Voldemort appeared to be. There'd been joy, pride, such tenderness that he had to check twice whether he wasn't sitting in front of an impostor. He'd felt most of it before, yet it was at times hard to tell where his own feelings ended and his partner's began, so he was often still guessing when not calm and concentrated. Or when their emotions differed so starkly that it was impossible not to tell them apart, such as during their confrontation in the Department of Mysteries. And even now, emotions with negative connotations such as fear, anger or jealousy were much stronger than the rest and easier to notice.
Thus, actively having a moment where he could let go of his own feelings and Voldemort described a shared event from his own perspective with all the accompanying shifting of moods he'd felt back then had been a revelation. One that had swept him away far too much.
It wasn't that he absolutely could not understand his partner's beliefs. If there was a single virtue in life that Voldemort wished to hold onto, it was worth the small effort of letting time pass by for a little while longer. It wasn't as if anything would change during that period. He was here now, safe in Riddle house with only the occasional trip during which he was accompanied by people he trusted with his well-being.
Though it did not ease his frustration that the other still openly relished in their shared moments, embraces and the kisses that Harry used to convey love more than lust. Nor that it might still take a while until the house wasn't so full anymore with people who became concerned when Harry was absent for more than two minutes. Time for himself was non-existent whether Voldemort was home or not. He debated sneaking away for just a little bit right now, while he for once was not the centre of anyone's attention, but he hadn't learned how to block their link and just knew that Voldemort would feel it if Harry would cave to his fantasies upstairs. Resigned, he listened to the ongoing conversation between Voldemort and Sirius with half an ear.
''Lupin wishes to at last accept the offer to visit tomorrow? The day before the full moon? What did you do during your previous talks, frolic around in a field?'' the Dark Lord snarled.
''Well excuse me for this entire situation being unbelievable enough to need more than a pinkie promise,'' Sirius retorted harshly. He winced slightly when a yew wand threateningly appeared and at least changed his tone from plain rude to standoffish instead. ''Barty helped us to meet up in an old hiding place of ours unseen, but we couldn't stay there for long and I barely explained the basics to Remus. Not made easier by the contract I had to sign that makes it pretty damn impossible to be straight about anything, I'd like to point out,'' Sirius scowled. Harry sincerely hoped this hiding place did not happen to be the Shrieking Shack, which was not the most inconspicuous place on earth considering that Dumbledore knew of it – had commissioned to build it for Lupin to be exact. ''He wants to get the full picture from Harry before Umbridge is…'' he didn't need to look to hear the grimace on Sirius' face.
For reasons Harry still did not fully understand – Sirius had been literally vouching for murdering Umbridge in order to bind her will for Merlin's sake, - his godfather severely disapproved of the method of punishment that had been chosen in the end. How was turning someone into a werewolf any worse than what he'd envisioned? Attempting to talk it out had only resulted in running circles, neither of them really getting each other's points, Harry had the feeling. He'd attempted to explain at least to Sirius that it wouldn't have mattered to him if he could have changed Umbridge into a fairy instead, but his godfather refused to listen. Maybe Lupin could shed some light on it. Not that any regrets would change the outcome. Greyback had agreed, the werewolves had literally held a trial and Voldemort would absolutely not break this newfound treaty by backpedalling to ease the mind of Sirius Black of all people.
Ron, on the other hand, had taken it much better. It helped that they'd lived through Umbridge's terror together, plotted to find ways of taking her down. The hatred she harboured against humanoid beings had been addressed multiple times. Practical as always, Ron had taken the news in stride, told Harry he was glad that Umbridge wouldn't become another burden and promptly tried to find tasks to help with since he was getting bored. As much as Ron always complained about his siblings when at the Burrow or about their dorm mates at Hogwarts, his friend was not used to being alone for long. Or around only adults, which Ron appeared to consider the same thing. He instead wandered the parts of the house he had access to in order to make himself useful as apparently lazing around in bed only sounded good when the alternative was a mountain of homework to avoid.
Currently, his friend sat opposite him, uncharacteristically sorting through a pile of books. ''Where'd you get all those from?'' Harry asked, actively tuning out the conversation happening on the other side of the room. The outcome was clear: Lupin would visit as refusing the request would be more of an unnecessary risk than letting a haggard werewolf in who'd definitely only turn once the full moon came out and thus pose no threat until that moment. Oh, and both men would be pissed off since talking to each other always pissed them off.
Harry couldn't help but find it slightly funny when Sirius would complain about his woes, knowing that his next moment alone with Voldemort would be defined by a litany of all the reasons Sirius Black was a disgrace to wizardkind. Loving them both to death, he had to manage finding increasingly creative ways to avoid agreeing to any badmouthing from either side. At least Barty was with him on this.
''Got them from You-Know-Who,'' Ron muttered, eyes not leaving the index page of one of the tome currently in his hands. Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Other than Sirius, who actually did bite at opportunities to declare his opinions left and right, his best friend had opted to avoid any direct conversation with the Dark Lord. When catching onto Harry's surprise, he gave a lopsided grin. ''He overheard me asking Crouch if I could help – and promptly ordered these books for me to read. Crouch brought them in twenty minutes ago. Am just sorting through them to find- ah, there!'' Ron's triumphant grin almost covered up the hateful hiss that left Voldemort's lips before the Dark Lord swept out of the room.
''That man is a nightmare, I tell you,'' Sirius huffed, coming over to plop down next to Harry. ''How you can voluntarily spend two minutes in the same room…''
''It's his pretty eyes that make me stay every time,'' Harry dead-panned, rejoicing in the way Sirius' face twisted up. Ron coughed uncomfortably. During all the days they'd spent in Riddle house together, both had felt too awkward to have a real talk about Harry being in a relationship with the same person his friend still fearfully kept referring to as You-Know-Who. ''Speaking of spending time with him, he surely won't be home for very long so…''
''You can't run from divination nonsense forever,'' Ron stated, at which Harry nearly got a whiplash.
''What?'' he asked, bewildered.
His friend blinked. ''Oh, uhh... I mean, hidden meanings and all that stuff.'' He held up the book he'd been so excited to find. The title read 'The beasts within us'
''When I figured he was ordering reading material for me, I asked if I could get this one added. Hermione handed me this book in the library, but as we left Hogwarts literally hours later, I had no chance to read it and no books were on the list of the priorities I thought of when asking you to bring my stuff. Probably still lying somewhere on a pile on the floor of our dorms. It apparently has all sorts of detailed descriptions about what your Animagus form means. Though Mione did warn me that some of it is mashed together from different sources, including books on dream divination, omens and such.''
''Well, I suppose I can spare another moment,'' Harry decided, curiosity piqued.
Ron threw him a look, then said: ''If you're sure he's not going to blow up the house around us.''
''While he doesn't hold much love for this place, I doubt he'd go to such extremes, he never mentioned having a spare one to move to.''
Ron cracked open the book and, while searching for the correct page, asked: ''Is this really his house? At first I thought it was Crouch's. Or that of a different follower. No offense, but I'd imagined real 'Dark Lord dwellings' to be massive creepy castles. Not something so… Muggle. It doesn't even have expansion charms despite being smaller than the Burrow.''
''A lot larger than most Muggle houses,'' Harry argued, thinking of all the identical terraced houses of Privet Drive. It did briefly make him wonder why Voldemort had not added expansion charms. It was surely neither beyond his ability, nor should the bubble dimension around them hinder it. After all, several buildings in Diagon also had expansion charms built in. ''And I'm not sure about the details of ownership to be honest. It used to belong to his family but, well-''
''Well what?''
Internally wincing, he rushed to admit: ''He killed his family in here, settled in the abandoned house decades later, then killed the caretaker who'd been keeping an eye on the place.''
''Didn't I say so?'' Sirius cheerfully commented. ''Lovely man, pretty eyes really make up for the personality.''
''Shut up,'' Harry mumbled, while Ron looked like he really wished he hadn't asked.
''Riiight,'' the redhead commented, flipping through the pages with more haste. ''Yours first in case your prolonged absence causes some more homicides. Bats… bats. Here, an entire chapter on different bats! Oh, lots of the pictures look pretty similar,'' he spoke in disappointment, handing Harry the book. ''I'd hoped they would have highlighted the distinct details more.''
Impressively, the book listed over a hundred different species of bats, but the black- and- white sketches indeed didn't make it easy to distinguish between them. ''Voldemort mentioned that my form was called 'Pteropus alecto', he said, throwing his godfather a hopeful look. ''Do you know enough Latin to give a hint?''
''Err, I learned Latin as a kid yeah. One of the more important languages in magic so of course my parents insisted. I admit it's a bit rusty nowadays, but I'm pretty sure I recall enough to know that although many official animal names come from Latin, neither 'Pteropus' nor 'Alecto' derive from it. Greek, if I'm not mistaken. Which is… even rustier,'' he admitted. ''Never liked the alphabet either, for after all that hard work I couldn't even use it as code for secret notes since most teachers at Hogwarts could read it. Same mess with runes. James and I learned the Cyrillic alphabet instead to exchange messages until we learned how to effectively conceal them with spells.'' When seeing the Harry's disappointment, he hurried to say: ''That doesn't mean I forgot everything! Let me think… from what I recall, Pteropus could come from a combination of 'wing' and 'foot' but that doesn't really help us any, does it? And Alecto…. Pretty sure that was a Muggle god. Or an emotion? Or both?'' he pinched the bridge of his nose, repeating the word a few times before his face showed an epiphany. ''Anger! That's it! Anger or fury. Is there anything in the book about angrily flapping bats with abnormal feet?''
Harry groaned. ''It likely has a completely different name in English,'' he concluded. ''Why does Voldemort always have to be so difficult? Could have spared me a heap of trouble but no, had to show off his Greek. Typical,'' he rolled his eyes. ''But I refuse to beg him for help. I'm going over to the Malfoys tomorrow – after Professor Lupin visits, no worries,'' he added when receiving a frown. ''Anyways, I happen to know that Draco's Greek is excellent. Come on, let's look at lions instead, there's bound to be less types of those, right?''
His hunch turned out to be correct, as there was exactly one species of lion listed, simply called 'lion'. A footnote showed that the distinction between Asian and African lions was purely caused by geographical factors and that they were, in fact, the same species.
''Huh,'' Ron mentioned. ''Typical, mate. Your luck seems to be limited to life-and-death situations only. Whereas I… I get lucky with making my non-threatened life easier.''
''You very nearly died a week ago.''
''Yeah well, you were in the party. That was your luck rubbing off an all of us.'' Ron claimed. ''Now hush, this mentions majesty, strength, courage and justice all in one sentence!''
Harry sat back and listened to Ron's dramatic reading of all the virtues Lion Animagi were attributed to. Somehow, Harry found it difficult to imagine his own entry saying anything similar. At least he could fly, that was better than any of the virtues in the word. And considering his chosen partner, Harry doubted that he could have lived up to any in the first place.
He excused himself once his friend turned to the other reading material, which was all related to tough defensive magic – wards, the creation of guardians and the like. It reminded Harry of Barty's efforts he had been told him about a couple of times. The Death Eater had made several golems the size of small animals that supposedly guarded Riddle House, although Harry had never caught sight of them in action. When questioning it, Barty had explained that Nagini had instantly chased after and destroyed the first few, so the newer versions were covered in notice-me-not charms and more complicated invisibility spells to avoid them ending up in the stomach of a snake… Both to not waste efforts and to improve Nagini's own health, as she could not digest any of the materials these golems were typically made of. Harry had thus only seen one half-finished product. As interesting as the topic of purely defensive magic was, Harry didn't know nearly enough to be able to answer many of Ron's muttered questions.
Following the trail he'd gotten used to so fast again, as if it was second nature to have an extra sense for one specific person, Harry ended up in the bedroom, which was flooded with light alongside a cool breeze through the opened window. Voldemort had definitely expected him to arrive sooner rather than later, he never bothered with light for himself. Harry had even had to move two old gas lamps and some candles in, as there'd been nothing to illuminate the room before apart from the window itself, which did not help much late evening.
Wondering about the location, Harry sat down on the bed next to his partner and asked: ''I thought you wanted to show me some of your new research?'' Voldemort did not instantly answer, sitting propped up against a couple of pillows and highly concentrated on a small silvery-blue dragon statuette in his pale hands. Harry observed the wiggling thing, which he'd snatched from his nightstand in the Gryffindor dorms right before leaving Hogwarts. It wasn't a necessity per se, but he'd liked the idea of bringing such a personal keepsake. In fact, on the side of the bed Harry slept in, the bedroom had become personalised – and messy - rather fast.
''Something else came up,'' Voldemort muttered, holding the struggling little dragon up by its tail now like a fat, scaly mouse. Harry would have felt bad for the thing if he wouldn't have known it was simply enchanted metal made to act like an angry dragon. Enchantments that were heavily worn down by now. It certainly couldn't spit fire anymore, and became more mechanic as the months passed. Harry couldn't recall when it had last moved for such an extended period of time. ''Interesting toy. The miniature used to determine which dragon you had to fight, yes? Considering your fears regarding that fight, I hadn't imagined you'd have kept this.''
''It was a sign of my victory after the fight was over. What would be the use being afraid of something I conquered?''
Voldemort released a cynical chuckle. ''Why indeed… Then perhaps, the question I wished to ask you has been answered already.'' Harry stayed silent, waiting for the other to clarify those cryptic words, and accepted the dragon his partner returned. It curled up in Harry's hands, movements far smoother than he could recall, delicate wings folding carefully across its body. A plume of smoke drifted from the tiny metal nostrils. Had Voldemort fixed it?
''You no longer fear the influence you can exert over the dead,'' the other continued casually as Harry gingerly set the dragon on his new nightstand again, next to Hagrid's wooden flute and the photo album of his parents. Morbid perhaps, to keep those memories where their murderer slept, but Harry did not wish to lose sight of it and his partner had not commented on the presence of the album.
''Would you accompany me to a funeral?''
''A- a funeral?'' Harry sputtered, thrown off. He'd been about to lean over and press a kiss to Voldemort's temple, though he reeled back now, sitting up straight and staring at his partner. ''You have been invited to a funeral? Not of someone you killed, I hope?'' It was hard to imagine Voldemort being close enough to anyone to be invited to mourn alongside family and friends.
His confusion must have been clearly noticeable, for he received a sharp smile in return, as well as a hint of amusement. ''Mrs Opal Greengrass passed away at the tender age of a hundred and twenty one. While none of the Greengrasses took my mark so far, they have proven to be steadfast allies and kept to the ways of Magic. Since Ostara, the family has become more proactive in aiding me, the proof of my immortality fully convinced them that my cause is true and that it is Magic who guides me. On her deathbed, Mrs Greengrass asked her grandchildren to request me to officiate the funeral. I imagined it could be a… learning experience for you.''
''But I can't be seen anywhere in public,'' he protested, envisioning some sort of graveyard this service was to be set at.
Voldemort raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ''Evan, that you are wanted by the Ministry does not mean you have to remain locked up in this house. I might remind you of one small detail: I am considered a tad more dangerous than you are. Wherever I can freely roam, you may certainly follow. The family already took care of the official bureaucracy concerning this death. The body has been cremated and the service shall be held three days from now as is custom.''
''I thought mages magically preserved themselves?'' he frowned. ''Like my parents?''
''And exactly like your parents, those corpses were perfectly fit to be used for a Necromancy rite. Most dark families are more cautious about the possibility of their bodies being desecrated after death in such a way as they are more likely to think of magic that others would prefer to ignore the existence of. Why did you think I had so many corpses at my disposal to turn into Inferi, enough to create whole armies of undead? I did not personally kill all of those.'' He chuckled, as if the thought was absurd, when Harry knew very well that Voldemort knew curses that could massacre entire villages within minutes. Poison fog, Fiendfyre, the conjuring of venomous serpents to name a few. Though the explanation did make sense. Harry too was hesitant about being put in a grave after death with the knowledge that some random mage could exploit the body he left behind for nefarious purposes.
''You mentioned my influence over the dead though, right before asking me to accompany you,'' the Gryffindor pointed out warily. ''Why do I have the feeling that Necromancy will be involved nonetheless?''
Thin lips stretched to show sharp teeth, and the gleam in crimson eyes grew a tad hungrier. ''Not all aspects of the Art are so unsubtle as walking corpses. The view on Necromancy is a precarious one, but people mainly see what they wish to believe. You know as well as I that practising death magic is regarded unfavourably, as something vile. Even those who firmly believe that – including many dark mages – still long to have one more conversation beyond the last, no matter how much time they had to prepare for the coming death. One only has to wrap it differently. The use of 'higher magic to reach out beyond the grasp of fate' to grant a last goodbye is highly sought-after.''
''But that is Necromancy!'' Harry protested. ''Pretending it's not is just another version of what you so dislike about the Ministry, where spells are artificially branded as dark or light regardless of what's actually heavy magic.''
''Which will change in time,'' the older wizard predicted, not sounding nearly as upset about it as he should be. ''For now, there is a choice between being revered or feared for the exact same abilities. Tell me, my dear. After seeing how most of my followers viewed you at the Ostara Ball, … don't you wish to prove them wrong and garner an ounce of respect?''
Vehement denial was Harry's first instinctual thought. Wishing to be respected meant to be seen, which had always been a low priority for someone who'd been forced to find comfort in hiding. Yet as the silence stretched on in which he only received a knowing look, Harry realised that he had changed as much by Voldemort's influence as was the case the other way around. He did not want to hide away anymore. The normal, quiet life he'd once imagined on the horizon had been replaced by a new vision. It was difficult to put in words, as he very much disliked being famous still. Maybe the difference lay in being seen for something he had no control over and seen for something he chose.
''I'll accompany you,'' he accepted quietly. Voldemort subtly tilted his chin upwards, radiating smugness. ''You don't need to be so pleased with yourself,'' the teen grumbled, finally indulging in his previous yearning by leaning in and firmly pressing his lips to marble skin for a second. ''I'm not making any promises of how much I'll participate, take this simply as an interest in your… profession, for lack of a better word. Narcissa told me you used to officiate events more often. I kind of find it hard to picture, especially when it comes to the more cheery parts of life like marriages and... and engagements,'' he added, something like discomfort settling in his stomach as the word left him.
Voldemort sighed, slightly exasperated as he picked up on a hint that Harry hadn't even realised he'd wished to give. ''This again? Evan, I had hoped that we'd said everything that needed to be during our previous conversation about it.''
''I had a talk with Narcissa-''
''Of course you did.''
Frustrated by the dismissive tone, Harry raised his voice a tad. ''Don't jump to conclusions, I only want to know whether you were aware of that the main reason why the Malfoys wished to put an engagement into writing was to protect me! You tortured them for this!''
The other gave a warning hiss. ''Protection? Hardly. It would not have given you any guarantees that you didn't already have. You are not at a financial disadvantage to me and our established bonds are enough to ensure your safety.''
''You drew your wand on me. Twice.''
A thin eyebrow raised in challenge. ''Neither an official engagement nor a marriage would prevent me from doing so unless we were to make a pact in form of a blood troth. Evan, I know that you got rather… quickly attached to the Malfoys, and I can consider having misjudged Narcissa's intentions despite her impossibly presumptuous comment, but Lucius' were clearly more about garnering influence than about you. If you truly only brought this up in their defence or because you are feeling responsible for what happened, rest assured that I still consider my punishment entirely justified.'' He fell silent for a few seconds, then apparently felt it necessary to add: ''I know what bonds those contracts entail better than most and find them a hindrance rather than a gift.''
''Again, don't be so quick to make assumptions,'' Harry interjected. ''What we have-'' he hesitated. ''I appreciate what we have right now. Adding pressure would make it more difficult, I think, so we should just see where this leads.'' By Merlin, Voldemort was still struggling with figuring out his own emotions about… well, about literally everything. No matter Harry's feelings, swearing to spend the rest of their lifetimes together when they'd only been together for a few months was madness. Truly, he was glad that opinion was shared by his partner.
At least, he'd thought so until Voldemort abruptly sat up and released a sinister chuckle. ''Pressure, my dear? Do I hear hesitance in your words? Perhaps you are the one assuming now. Is it your belief that my true motivation for preventing this engagement would be ensuring a failsafe in case I change my mind about us?''
Harry stiffened, both at the words and the way a burst of magic abruptly crossed the distance between them, grasping at his hands like tongues of flames that quickly travelling up his arms. Impatient. Possessive.
He pondered on it while attempting to accept the flames instead of fighting them, feeling a tad embarrassed. Of course he hadn't seriously thought about the possibility of breaking up, quite the opposite. He wanted more of what they had now. But a lifetime seemed impossibly long and he couldn't imagine Voldemort not growing bored at some point. The realisation was like a sharp stab in the gut. He was afraid to lose what they had, but the blow of being left behind had to be softer when they were 'just dating' as opposed to when they'd be officially tied. ''Isn't it?'' he thus muttered, uncertain of his partner's intentions.
Clearly, it had been the wrong question, for Voldemort's careful amused mask cracked into a snarl. Within seconds, Harry found himself hauled away from the bed and harshly pressed into the nearest wall. The teen braced himself to push away, with violence if necessary, for his feelings for this man would not overrule the fact that he was not a toy to push around. As soon as he was pinned down however, Voldemort made no move to harm him, only firmly gripping one of his upper arms to ensure Harry wouldn't slip away easily. Blazing scarlet glared down at him and Harry could feel a rising fury, palpable in the way the shreds of magic now burned into his skin and visible in the way the fragile rib cage that almost touched his own heaved quicker than before.
''Do you truly think, after everything, that we can simply break apart?'' the older wizard murmured, none of the profound anger making it into his silky voice. ''Fate has touched us, my soul curls around yours and your life's essence runs through my veins. You wish to see where this leads? I will tell you exactly which choices remain. We either spend eternity as a united force to be reckoned with, or it'll end in fire and blood.''
Harry wondered briefly if it was meant as a threat, but when mentally reaching out, he only found a sense of grave determination that thrummed along with the anger about Harry not having understood this to be a simple fact. ''Is that not playing into the hands of the prophecy?'' he asked, cocking his head as he studied Voldemort's serpentine face. ''Regardless of what happens in the future, I will never destroy you. I'd hoped that to be mutual.''
''You will destroy yourself instead,'' the other darkly predicted. ''Our lives are defined by each other. However it happened matters less than accepting this as the unwavering truth. Don't delude yourself with the ludicrous idea that we could separate in peace. How had you imagined that to work?'' he challenged.
Voldemort did not appear to understand what lay at the heart of Harry's anxieties, going by his words. How could he, when Harry had only realised it himself mere moments ago? But although his partner's interpretation was off and clearly left Voldemort on edge, the points that were brought up soothed Harry's fears somewhat. Indeed, the mere idea of coming to a mutual agreement to go their separate ways was… ridiculous. They were more than two halves that fit together, they were liquid metal that had blended until neither one could be extracted without damage. Harry would never be able to leave as long as the piece of soul inside of him remained content where it was. Voldemort needed Harry to stabilise himself through their emotional connection. Neither would be able to put the other off their minds when at night they involuntarily reached out to share dreams.
''So you won't leave me,'' the teen at last breathed out in relief. ''Whatever happens- however little you like my critique, you won't-'' It was difficult to breathe, to voice all the buried fears of rejection that threatened to surface all at once. Could he be blamed for these irrational fears? Were they irrational, considering his past? People he'd attempted to befriend him had turned away at the slightest threat of Dudley's fists. Petunia and Vernon had never hesitated to remind him he would always be unwanted in the end. The man who'd acted as a mentor for years was scheming to murder him now as the lives of other people were apparently worth more than Harry's.
He was being stared at now, and the wrath that echoed in his scar ebbed away. Flames turned to tiny soothing sparks.
''I could not,'' Voldemort replied, cutting through Harry's feelings with impressive calmness. ''I- am getting the impression that we are having a misunderstanding again.'' he admitted, clearly hating having to confess this with every fibre of his being.
Harry released a shaking laugh and gave into the urge to wrap his arms tightly around his partner's cold, hard frame, burying his face in the hollow of the other's throat. How to explain these worries to someone who was used to thinking in extremes? ''The explanation I received about my guardians' intention behind arranging an engagement made me doubt your true motivations in rejecting it so strongly,'' he admitted. ''I should have talked to you about it instantly, I know. Instead, I think I subconsciously tried to find different explanations and positives these past days to deal with that suspicion. I arrived to the conclusion that, when you would grow weary of me, it'd be easier for both of us if there weren't official ties involved as well. I… I wasn't thinking of this happening in the near future of course, not after you showed me every aspect of how you feel, but I do suppose that yes, I imagined you would not wish to tie yourself to me for this reason.''
''You are being utterly ridiculous,'' Voldemort scoffed, leaning down so his flat nose was pressed against the side of Harry's head. His arms snaked around the teen's back to cage him in fully. ''Have I not told you before that insecurity does not suit you? I shall say this only once, so you'd better take note: You are mine, from the core of your soul to the mark etched into your skin. We can never go back to how we used to be: not as enemies, not as a Lord and a follower, not even as allies. My rejection of tradition roots only in the side-effects it would have. So get comfortable, for if you decide to leave, it'll mean death one way or the other.''
Death would be a mercy if the alternative was losing this, Harry absentmindedly considered as he inhaled all that was Lord Voldemort, tendrils of electrifying power mingling with a heady scent and emotions that were spiking again after Harry's confession, on the verge of spiralling out of control once more. Essence given an almost physical form.
''Do you truly believe this was fated?'' Harry asked idly, since his partner had mentioned it before. ''I thought you were rather adamant about defying it when we demolished the hall of Prophecies.''
''I like the idea of fate when it aligns with my own views,'' Voldemort unabashedly admitted. ''Though I suppose it was more my previous staunch belief in the concept that started our journey.''
''You for sure caught my attention when you tried to murder me,'' Harry wryly admitted. ''Merlin, that's kind of messed up…''
''Doubtlessly. It doesn't change the truth.''
They untangled from their embrace, Harry' cheek receiving one last brush of bony knuckles before Voldemort stepped away. ''So-'' Harry started, wishing to somehow finalise their debate, for lack of a better word. ''Eternity, yet without family ties?'' In all honesty, an whole whirlwind of questions raged in his head now of the how's and what's, as well as a pressing nervousness about what this truly meant.
''You weren't adopted by name,'' the man threw in. ''My follower's claim on you as guardians lasts until you are of age. In Pure-blood circles you will of course still be viewed as their family afterwards, yet that has no true effects considering you remained a Potter. Like always, Evan, you lack in patience.''
He had the audacity to be amused now, at that revelation.
It took a few seconds for the words to properly sink in. ''Are you kidding me?'' Harry loudly asked when they finally did, eyes widened at the implication. ''You couldn't have mentioned that last time?''
Voldemort clacked his tongue in disapproval. ''I voiced my concerns over the Malfoys using an engagement between us to boost their status beyond those suitable for followers of mine. I deemed it obvious then, that this concern would be voided when you no longer hold legal ties to them as family. You were told of the exact conditions regarding this guardianship, including it is limited to your status as a minor, were you not?''
''I- well, yes, but- the Malfoys heavily implied I'd be part of their family for the rest of my life. Besides, nothing makes sense about this whole mess of legal definitions, societal expectations and personal views. Like, Draco has a vocal agreement with his fiancé to be engaged, what is different than your sudden declaration of our relationship lasting for the rest of our lives? Semantics?'' Harry wanted to bite his tongue instantly after blurting out his frustrations. What if these arguments would make Voldemort reconsider, somehow?
''A 'vocal agreement' does not mean that Malfoy simply said 'let's get married' to a girl he fancied,'' the man scoffed, moving to the bed and gesturing for Harry to join him. The teen did so, sitting tentatively on the side while Voldemort made himself comfortable once again. ''It means his parents and his future bride's parents made a magical vow promising to unite their family lines,'' Voldemort further explained. ''The children were likely not even in the room when that happened.''
''But Draco mentioned it could be annulled,'' Harry frowned in confusion. What was the use of a magical vow if it could be broken?
''In agreement with the other family, and by paying the right price, it could be. Yet not without severely losing face. The young Malfoy heir has a very rosy view on life and how it should cater to his whims,'' Voldemort drawled, making clear what he thought of Draco's arrogance. ''To properly answer your question is that this arrangement too came down to collectivism as opposed to individualism. We both agreed previously that this is not acceptable for us, so harping on the concept of getting either engaged or married right now is pointless. When doing it by the book, we'd be restricted by a multitude of rules for the sake of others. If we do not, a great deal of people will be offended or even angered, a preview of which you already received after the Ostara Ball until memories were adapted to suit our needs. The difference between accepting any form of normative ties in contrast to a mutual agreement to remain as we are for the rest of time is thus only what is portrayed to the outside world – and as such, the profit people we consider uninvolved could reap from it until you are of age. Afterwards-'' Voldemort made a strange facial expression, and Harry realised he'd been attempting to wrinkle his nose. ''When free of family ties, a marriage would be favourable, for it would mean no longer being on the receiving end of persistent gossip whenever we so much as talk in private for an extended period of time.''
Throughout the explanation, the room had grown impossibly warm, Harry had the feeling. Or maybe that was simply his own blood rising to his face. Possibly due to his upbringing in the Muggle world, Voldemort's admission of seeing a marriage in the future very much did sound like Harry's own definition of an engagement, even more than the previous promise of eternity. A word that both made him pause and which handed him an excuse to avoid what had just been said on a silver platter.
''You keep speaking of timelessness,'' Harry mentioned. ''Yet while you are immortal, I am not.''
Voldemort blinked and stared as if seeing Harry for the first time. ''What do you mean, you are not?''
Staring back, he spoke: ''Err… well, I don't have Horcruxes, do I? Nor did I become a Vampire or got my hands on the Philosopher Stone, last time I checked.''
''You are a Horcrux,'' his partner emphasized, speaking slowly, and Harry once again felt as if he was missing some vital information. Before he could ask, Voldemort proudly smirked and eagerly leaned forward into Harry's personal space. ''The vessels that contain my soul became one with it, making them near indestructible apart from highly magical substances such as basilisk venom. I shall protect you from those means of death and my soul inside of you protects you from everything else. You shall indeed remain tied to this earth as long as I.''
Shocked, he sputtered: ''But old age- I have been a Horcrux since I was one year old, I age regularly! You are the first one to create living Horcruxes, you can't just rule out the possibility that I could pass away from that!'' It sounded like a far more logical argument than simply presuming his body worked the same as an object.
Voldemort lazily shook his head. ''Nothing dies from simply being old, darling. Your cell structure deteriorates with age, meaning people cannot so easily recover from disease or injuries anymore. This is the very reason mages become much older than Muggles on average, for our magic attempts to counter harm years after pure biology fails. Yet even magic can reach its limit. No matter how fragile your cells become though, it does not matter when you can literally not be hurt to the point of death. As for how I know, I have also subjected Nagini to experiments, within safe perimeters of course. Ever since becoming a Horcrux, she is no longer susceptible to disease. And as Dumbledore proved, she cannot be killed by regular means. The working of this strange, I know. One of your limbs could be severed yet your neck should be safe. Just like tearing pages from my diary was possible, while destroying the spine by any regular means such as slicing or burning was not. The only uncertainty that remains regarding a possible means of permanent death is the killing curse. It does not work on traditional Horcruxes for the simple fact that inanimate vessels containing a slice of soul still are not alive enough for that curse to take effect. For obvious reasons, I have not included attempting it on Nagini in my experiments. I do not know whether it would kill you, my soul, or both. Considering you have an excellent history with Killing curses however, I ask you for another miracle in the event you were to face a second one.''
''I- I am-…'' Harry whispered, not reacting to his partner's attempt at sinister humour. How was this not something that had come up in conversation before? But naturally, the mere fact that it hadn't should have told him that Voldemort was not worried about him dying. The Dark Lord protected his soul at all cost, if living Horcruxes posed a risk of Voldemort's soul passing on along with the person tied to them from something as generally inevitable as aging, he would either not have created them in the first place or have spent the rest of his life finding ways to counter that. Since Voldemort hadn't mentioned ways to prevent either Nagini or Harry from growing old…
He was immortal. They were both immortal. Harry's head spun.
He needed some time to process this. Well, he thought cynically, he apparently had all the time in the world.
''This distresses you,'' Voldemort concluded, smile slipping from his face. ''How so?''
As much as Harry wished to just walk away and lock himself in to be alone with his thoughts for a while, the teen realised that they weren't alone in the house. None of his friends deserved to be subjected to a confused and angry Dark Lord just because Harry didn't take what Voldemort clearly deemed to be excellent news well the second it had been mentioned.
''I had not considered living eternally,'' Harry started, closing his eyes resignedly. ''It's overwhelming. Sure, I don't know exactly what death would have held either, but you just told me that what I believed to be a natural part of life has been taken away.'' He released a frustrated sound as he was met with an uncomprehending look.
''You say this as if I took a choice away from you,'' the other hissed in displeasure. ''The inevitability of death is forced upon every being as soon as life is granted. Dying itself is never a choice.''
''I tried once,'' Harry remembered. ''I attempted to put a knife to my chest. Why did you stop me from committing suicide if you knew – or at least suspected by that point – that I was a Horcrux?''
''You attempted to choose the time of your death, nothing else. As for why I stopped your hand… You were a clearly misguided teenager whom I hoped could be reasoned with. Death or not, why would I let you mutilate yourself? Had I not prevented it, would you have trusted me after?''
It was a typically pragmatic answer, and Harry had to remind himself that he'd still considered Voldemort an enemy back then, whom the man owed nothing to. Felt nothing towards. Impossible tired all of a sudden, Harry moved over to his own side of the bed and crashed down on it, staring at the ceiling. Was it unreasonable to be angry about this? Voldemort did have some points. Being forced to live wasn't worse than being forced to die. Living could be very enjoyable when spent with the right people. Opposed to that, Harry was aware of that 'passing on' meant being taken apart due to his trips into the Black Cosmos. No matter his inability to fully grasp how all those separate parts felt, he'd never be himself again after death.
It was a gift, he decided, for any other decision would have only made him miserable. A gift received on accident, when he thought about it, for Voldemort hadn't meant to leave behind a piece of his soul that night. Which brought him back to ponderings on fate, and predictably, to their connection.
''Eternity together,'' he spoke, letting the words roll into the room and liking the sound of it now he was fully aware of just what that meant. ''No matter what.''
Voldemort moved, propped up on one arm as sharp eyes scrutinised Harry's every twitch and change of mood. ''That is what I have been saying all along,'' he tensely spoke, making the teen realise he hadn't answered the unspoken question that had hovered alongside the 'How so'.
Harry turned his head to the side to face his partner and genuinely smiled. ''I like the sound of it. Even if it's entirely unfair that you visibly claimed me as yours while you remain unblemished,'' he half-jokingly complained while tracing his lightning scar.
''Is physical symbolism that important to you?'' the other scoffed, drawing his wand. Before Harry could answer, the emerald-encrusted handle of a conjured dagger was pressed into his palm. ''I recommend the rune Wunjo, although I would not protest against Sowilo to complement my own mark on you. Preferably not on my face, rather difficult to cover up if the situation calls for it.''
Harry sat up and stared down at the dagger in his hand, then hesitantly looked at his partner. Voldemort had absurd humour sometimes, but Harry severely doubted that this was meant in jest, and checking their link affirmed that immediately. ''Merlin, I'm not going to scar you!'' he exclaimed in horror. ''I meant- I don't know, a token or something. You know, what people traditionally do!''
''Ah,'' was the only answer, the knife disappearing in thin air. ''I see. You meant adornments.''
''Would it kill you to just say jewellery,'' Harry muttered.
''Nothing can kill me, but I was thinking in broader terms. I do have several tattoos already, which I would also agree to if you find that preferable.''
The idea of having a couple tattoo with Voldemort was so weird that Harry instantly rejected that idea. ''Not really.'' He bit his lip at the expectant stare, wondering how they'd gotten to this conversation. ''Just forget about it,'' he sighed, avoiding his partner's eyes. This was getting to the point of awkwardness, which he severely disliked between them.
''If you find a trinket to your liking, I will wear it,'' the man promised, nonetheless. ''As long as it is not a ring, which could be interpreted again as a sign of officiality, leading us down the same path we are attempting to avoid. Now come here, you've been antsy for far too long.'' he ordered, drawing the teen close. Giving in, Harry accepted the hug without protest, slinging an arm across his partner's chest and glad to be able to curl up in silence.
Immortal, he once more wondered with astonishment. An eternity to spend with his chosen partner.
Whom he may or may not have unofficially engaged himself to today.
These two clearly needed to work some stuff out still before we move on to the thoughts of other people.
I sure hope that I can now write the scenes I actually wanted to instead of keep thinking about our main pairing issues, haha.
Hope you liked this Valentine's day Special, the next upload will be scheduled for Sunday the 13th of March
Please leave a review :) Any speculations on what Harry will get Voldemort?