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.

102. C101 - Of Prisoners and Catacombs

Chapter 101 – Of Prisoners and Catacombs

''Chin up.'' His partner's posture was corrected with a single finger. ''It won't do to show such little confidence in yourself tonight.''

''Me being absentminded has nothing to do with confidence,'' Harry countered. At the same time, he did keep his head up higher and allowed Voldemort to straighten a rumpled collar before taking the offered arm.

''We know that. They don't, and I have a feeling you are not going to give them a detailed explanation of why your mind is elsewhere today. If your O. W. L. results aren't stellar, Lucius will already be on the verge of a mental breakdown. No need to send him into an early grave by looking down. He is one of my more useful followers, after all.''

''Now who lacks confidence in me?''

Voldemort answered with a sardonic little smirk. They also both knew that regardless of effort, Harry's results were never going to be perfect O's, as unfortunate as that was. After hearing the teen admit to spending twenty minutes on describing a distorted woman in his crystal ball, only to realise it'd been Alecto's reflection, one failed grade was a certainty. Of course, if Harry must fail one, it had better be divination.

''My Lord,'' Lucius addressed him as they walked into the opulent dining room of Malfoy manor – about twenty minutes after Harry's appearance had been expected. Had he arrived alone, escaping a scolding would have been impossible. As it stood, Lucius should naturally assume more important business had held them up. Which in Voldemort's eyes perfectly overlapped with the truth. ''How wonderful to see you in such good health.''

The Dark Lord observed, unimpressed, the way his subject dabbed a sheen of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. Surely, Harry's results could not be that horrendous, after spending night upon night on tutoring? Well, until seeing for himself, Voldemort would not to let his mood be soured by Lucius' behaviour. He might turn a tad stricter in his teaching methods, though.

''It is my pleasure,'' he civilly responded, arching an eyebrow at the seating arrangement. Despite having had no warning about his partaking in dinner, they all seamlessly adapted in response to the subtle gesture. Breakfast was one thing – a more informal affair, and last time he'd joined, they'd been eating already – but for dinner he did certainly expect decorum to be followed, including for the one of highest rank to be sat at the head of the table. The only downside was that Harry's current status as this family's newest ward and youngest member meant the teen ended up on Narcissa's left instead of at Voldemort's side.

~I shall order Narcissa to switch with you,~ he stated, about to do so when receiving a slight shaking of the head.

~We're still connected in all ways that matter.~ Voldemort lavished himself on the mental caress Harry gave using their other secret language. ~Besides, as I said, I'm not in the mood for much conversation. Better to sit at the end, then.~

Voldemort hummed in acknowledgement. The words did ring true: those few feet of physical separation hardly existed at all. Not when their very beings couldn't be separated.

''We shall dine first, then address any pressing topics,'' he decided, more to not be so bothered anymore by the revolting sounds the bodies of hungry people made than to grant his followers relief from hunger. This also eased the tension that had risen at the first words of Parseltongue: let them think he'd just revealed the result of their quick exchange.

''Would you do us the honour of saying a prayer, my Lord?'' Narcissa spoke, soft tone laden with an amount of worship he was more used to receiving from her sister. The woman's behaviour had changed recently – the Dark Lord knew all too well whom in their circles had doubts or even regrets about his return. She had been among them with hesitance that had been carefully veiled under faux enthusiasm, which had turned into quieter wariness after he'd tortured her and Lucius for daring to overstep. Her reactions had, to an extent, been understandable. He'd kept an eye on Narcissa nonetheless, ready to strike the first signs of rebellion down. Her visible change of mind was welcome.

Lord Voldemort's attention shifted once more to the only one in their midst who most likely hardly picked up on Narcissa's changed behaviour. The same person who usually was the cause of shifting the feelings in those he surrounded himself with from one opposite of the spectrum to the other. Such wondrous powers… Voldemort could scarcely find appropriate words of prayer when Harry's name alone burned on his lips when thinking of the miracles of Magic.

Bright green eyes lifted to meet his, a hint of a warning wrapping around his mind.

Tearing away, Voldemort gathered himself to answer without sounding caught up in reverie. ''We have no need for temples, for sanctity starts at home, using the voices that shape magic and the hands we devote to its use. Narcissa, I would hear your own prayers before placing words in your mouth.''

A nervous smile flitted across her face, but she obeyed, pouring everyone a glass of wine to toast with as she said grace, using words Voldemort remembered from long-ago dinners at the Malfoy household before his war, before even the end of Grindelwald's war. It was almost nostalgic in a pleasing way, especially when Harry too chimed in to speak lines of old: A chumhnadh, a chomhnadh, an oidhche, agus gach oidhche. To save, to shield, this evening and every evening… A fitting prayer for hearth and home, which he expressed to Narcissa so her smile reached her eyes, too.

Dinner was silent as was custom – one he didn't insist at in his own house for practicality yet respected as a tradition here - and Voldemort used it to ponder on the growing role Magic had in the life of his followers. Steps of progress had been made… too slow, too few. His own fault for being ever so careful not to be noticed. Should he mend this, now Dumbledore was only in the picture as a mask for Bartemius to wear? Hundreds would pledge open support if he were to step out of the shadows, the press would print what he saw fit in spite of where Delacour's loyalties lay, Fudge's grasp on the position of Minister was so frail it'd take only a whisper on the wind to knock him down…

Those hopes turned bitter when thinking of the resistance against change left in the majority of the Wizengamot, the inability to cast every single bubble dimension that needed to be created by himself due to the price of the spell – he simply did not possess that many items he cared for to serve the purpose – and above all, the thousands upon tens of thousands mages scattered across the world who preferred to shy away from heavy magic to this day. Britain might bow to him with enough pressure, the rest of the world would not. Not yet. And to see his goals realised, a wide international network was of the utmost importance. Regardless of only being tasked with protecting this corner of the earth, they couldn't risk discovery because the governments of faraway countries such as Panama or Bangladesh refused to go into hiding.

His eye fell on a new picture frame on the wall to the side, of a family portrait that included Harry. It hadn't been here last time he'd dined at Malfoy manor. Perhaps his own previous words were truer than even he'd believed. Change started inside of each home, each family, whether it be a change of mindset about magic or adaptations of other beliefs. The Malfoys had been a convenient set of tools when Harry needed new guardians, but Voldemort had never truly thought they'd earnestly accept a Half-blood as family. Not Lucius, who'd been most vocal throughout the years about the dangers of diluted blood and the stain of Muggle lineage. Once again, Harry had worked his mysterious, contagious ways. It was a prime example of how each cell inside their society could be changed with effort and care. Hopefully his partner was not the only person whom he could count on to evoke such weighty transformations of mentality.

''My Lord…'' his Death Eater spoke as the last bite of dessert had been taken. ''Before we move onto the educational track of the children-'' Voldemort glowered darkly at the word, which he'd stopped using to refer to Harry more than a year ago. Catching on, Lucius returned the look with a strained yet polite enough smile and quickly moved on: ''Your announcement of crushing the Order of the Phoenix under your heel was joyful. Still, it left me confused when coming across none other than Arthur Weasley at work. Who was even more avoidant of me than usual I must add, scampering off as if seeing a particularly foul ghost. May I ask…'' he trailed off, leaving the multitude of questions up in the air.

It wasn't Voldemort's nature to defend his actions, so he did not start a lengthy justification of why he'd let the Weasleys run. Instead, he asked in return: ''What strategies would you have employed, my slippery friend, to dismantle the Order?''

''Political oppression,'' the man answered near instantly. ''The Order is known for being a terrorist group, I'd have used my contacts to bring their resurfacing to light.''

''To Cornelius Fudge, who equally denies my return?'' Voldemort mildly spoke. ''He'd agree with you on Dumbledore planning to overthrow him if that is the lie you'd spin… However, he does not like to feel threatened. Even the idea of the Order of the Phoenix gaining enough manpower for their actions to carry any weight at all apart from that of an empty threat of a name, would not fit into Fudge's preferred view of his own status. Making membership illegal would be the same as acknowledging they are an active danger to the Ministry. Besides, legal status hardly disheartens individuals who fully believe they're in the right. As should be the case,'' he added, ensuring to emphasise the warning beneath those words by fuelling Lucius' mark until the man twitched in discomfort. Too many Death Eaters had cowardly run when pledging loyalty could see them shipped off to Azkaban without being able to count on Voldemort's personal protection.

Lucius leaned back into his chair, pensively stroking his clean-shaven chin. ''Weasley acted too strange to be under the Imperius curse or obliviated… Are they bound by magical oaths?''

''They are bound by their own vows, their own code,'' he hinted, dearly hoping anyone here was intelligent enough to understand.

~You're being unfair,~ Harry interrupted. ~There is no world in which any of them can understand what drives the likes of Mr and Mrs Weasley, Hagrid or anyone else who signed up to the Order with the sole intention of doing good or die trying. Nor would you, had you not studied people like pinned butterflies.~

''Then you enlighten them,'' Voldemort sighed in disappointment.

Going by the irritated glare he received, his partner wasn't any keener on actively participating in the conversation than before dinner. Too bad, he shouldn't have interjected then, Parseltongue or not. ''I'm not going to pretend I'm an expert on psychology either, as it took Sirius, Ron and I more than a week to figure out your exact plan, but Sirius described something called 'the possibility of debate'.''

It physically hurt to admit Black had made an accurate guess, so Voldemort didn't recognise who'd drawn the correct conclusion first in favour of focusing on enlightening his followers, whom he'd believed to be brighter than they turned out to be. Perhaps the bar of expectations had been laid too high. The first Malfoy he'd personally known, Abraxas, had been born with a golden spoon in his mouth that shovelled legislative politics into the boy from day one, and still, a Half-blood introduced into magical society at age eleven had quickly been able to refine Abraxas' political tactics. No wonder his offspring could only think so far ahead… Narcissa, however, should have been better, if her even her Gryffindor cousin was bright enough to understand.

''That is correct: Albus Dumbledore recruited – with few exceptions - those who believed themselves morally superior to me. This gave them all one major flaw: the need to be better than their enemy. As such, violent actions are only acceptable when directed at either countering or preventing greater violence. In general, these types of people prefer passive resistance through diplomatic solutions, which only stops working completely when facing an enemy who seeks their eradication. Prior to the attack on my home, they did believe I sought exactly that. Now… now I let them live, bound loosely while merely observing their actions without visible consequence, I took away their weapons of justice. Moreover, I've shown to spare those who accept my views, including their allies who are still on the fence about my ideals or who personally dislike me. Lupin and Black are prime examples. The remaining members of the Order cannot reasonably point a wand at me when I extend a hand of welcome to them. One they cannot dismiss as a lie when my own house is filled with those I'd have slaughtered without a care a few decades ago.''

It was almost comical how all three Malfoys did their very best to avoid looking at Harry after those words, as if that would make the truth disappear. Voldemort wouldn't have given Sirius Black a chance back then, nor healed a blood-traitor, nor wasted more words on a Mudblood than 'Avada Kedavra'. The crux of the matter was that he'd been open about this. Harry was well-aware of not only his past actions, but also the callous thoughts that had driven them.

It was his partner who pushed past the discomfort. ''So, when giving them the very real possibility of a peaceful debate, they feel honour-bound to take that chance.''

''I found it to be the preferred method of halting their resistance after discounting violence as an acceptable first response,'' he said, those words truly only for Harry to understand the full implication of.

A hint of a smile showed the message had been received. ''Wouldn't that have been more effective if you'd let all of them go under the same premises, though? Taking prisoners at the same time isn't a great way to show good intentions – feigned or not - not to mention that you had one of them even killed. That will also put those you did let go or the rest of the Order who is still out there, on edge.''

Voldemort lightly shook his head in denial. ''No, it wouldn't have. Firstly, the Weasleys needed time to start believing either them or Ronald not being harmed was not a spur of the moment decision. Had I instantly let every other member of the Order leave, they'd simply have re-organised. There'd be too large a chance that those without anything to lose by angering me could have convinced those three to go along with more drastic retaliation again soon, convinced my momentary lack of violence to be a trap. Now, they were kept on edge, feeling isolated and uncertain while having plenty of time to realise I'm not bringing bloodshed to their doorstep or going back on my word. Now is the time to release the prisoners one by one, adding to the belief I may indeed not be evil incarnate when seeing their friends return unharmed. Hagrid will be first, of course, as he will be supervised by both Severus and the Carrows after returning to the grounds of Hogwarts. He hardly has anywhere else to go.''

Draco cleared his throat in a way that indicated a question he didn't dare ask before being granted permission to speak was eating him alive. Usually, Voldemort ignored Lucius' son as he wasn't particularly fond of the oftentimes spoiled and arrogant teen. Today though, the Dark Lord felt generous as all was neatly going according to plan lately, so he allowed it, motioning for Draco to speak.

''Would this not enable Professor McGonagall to seek the big oaf out?'' The question received an instant glare from Harry due to the wording.

Inclining his head, Voldemort triumphantly said: ''Of course. And Rubeus Hagrid is free to speak of how he was imprisoned and questioned by Bartemius. Perhaps he can in the same breath report that he wasn't harmed in the slightest, given plenty of food and drink, that the Carrows even brought his dog to keep him company and lastly, that he wasn't forced to give any answers. Any information we received from him was due to Hagrid getting nervous and running his mouth thoughtlessly. In short, our prisoners were all met with a perfectly humane response to an unprovoked attack. It will drive the point home that no fault lay with me.''

Lucius still appeared to have inner doubts the man didn't dare voice, but both Narcissa and Draco looked impressed. It had admittedly taken quite a bit of restraint to see it through. Ripping his enemies' throats out and plunging both hands into their ribcages to rip the hearts of these annoying rebels out would have been far more satisfying than tiptoeing around their precious feelings. Alas, if it would win Magic even a single devotee in the end, Voldemort felt obligated to take the careful route. Now his craving for violence was more firmly under control due to the colourful array of emotions that obscured the nagging hunger, it would be wise not to erase his enemies in the quickest way and think instead of how they could serve a larger purpose.

''I'd like to see Hagrid, before he leaves,''Harry requested, apparently fully having given up on brooding in silence. ''It might lessen his guilt lessen when not only hearing from Barty that Hermione, Ron and I were never in any danger.''

''That has some merit,'' Voldemort agreed. He personally didn't care about Hagrid's state of mental wellbeing, but it would be one more strike of insecurity against McGonagall if the trusted groundkeeper were to inform her of Harry walking in and out of the prison unharmed. ''I'll see to it that we drop by there soon, perhaps even tonight as I'll be rather occupied in the upcoming weeks. Now, Lucius, to not dally any longer, you may retrieve the exam results. Including the answer sheets with the Carrow's comments and corrections. One cannot learn from mistakes when unaware of them.''

It was one thing Voldemort disliked about the way O. W. L. and N. E. W. T. results were handled by the Ministry. Of course, he'd had O's across the board, but had been informed by Slughorn that his final theoretical potion exam had been scored a 98 percent, which the potion master knew only due to his contacts. Those two percent had annoyed Voldemort to no end, especially because the Ministry only gave out the scores without returning the answer sheets themselves. What those few mistakes had been had remained a mystery until he'd broken into the Department of Magical Education a few weeks after graduation to check for himself. He'd been even more annoyed after finding out the point reduction had been caused by an error on the examiner's side.

As a result, the examiner had not lived another week using methods that couldn't be traced, but that was beside the point.

His follower complied, a storm of fluttering parchment appearing out of thin air before it divided into two stacks. One was deposited in front of Draco, who tried to nonchalantly look at the topmost sheet as if he didn't care one way or another. He failed when a conceited smile tugged at his lips. Lucius seemed hesitant for a moment whom to present Harry's results to first. The choice was taken away when a coughed 'Accio' covered by Harry's hand delivered the parchment right into it. Smug enough over that casual display of wandless magic, Voldemort didn't interfere, though he easily could have intercepted it with a spell of his own. Instead, the Dark Lord leaned back and gauged his partner's feelings first.

Lucius had likely been a tad overdramatic again, as the teen seemed pleasantly surprised. ''I passed all the exams I needed to, to advance in either of my career wishes,'' he happily spoke, beaming across the table. ''Got four O's, too.'' Harry only faltered when Voldemort could not conceal a glimmer of discontent when hearing that less than half of the marks had been outstanding. He'd hoped for his teachings to have made more of a difference. Surely Harry would have received multiple O's without extra lessons as well. ~Don't be like that,~ his partner scowled, making the report float over for him to grab, while Harry flicked through the rest of the stack to check the commentary. Flattening the parchment, he scanned the grades:

Ancient Runes: A
Astronomy: E
Care of Magical Creatures: E
Charms: O
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: P
Herbology: E
History of Magic: E
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O

Voldemort's tenseness faded slightly. All subjects Harry had scored high in were those he'd received tutoring on. They hadn't spent much time on either Astronomy, Care or Herbology together, and the failing grade in Divination had been expected, as already discussed. He debated whether to be difficult about Ancient Runes, considering they had spent a large portion of their tutoring sessions on the subject, but considering that Harry hadn't taken it at Hogwarts and crammed three years of learning into less than two, an Acceptable was… well, acceptable. A shame that it wasn't high enough to take Runes at N. E. W. T. level when Harry would return to school. They'd have to continue the extracurricular lessons instead, as it was a valuable extra skill to have when Healing. At least it presented a perfect excuse to keep teaching, Voldemort contemplated, thinking of new methods to test out.

''I'd expected an O in History of Magic as well,'' he thus only remarked, figuring he need not comment on the expected excellent grades.

''I barely scraped together A's for History in my previous years,'' Harry defended with a light pout. ''An E is good enough to keep me in the course. Literally the only teacher who demands an O for the next level is Snape, and I did manage that for potions. Hey, Draco, how are yours?''

''Four O's as well and not a single fail,'' Draco drawled with pride. As the report was handed across the table though, Voldemort noticed quite a few more A's than on Harry's. The haughty expression fell slightly when Harry's card was handed to their father and the young Malfoy peeked at it, realising his new brother had beaten him.

''Lucius, Narcissa, choosing to reward or punish the O. W. L. results of your charges will be up to you,'' Voldemort neutrally spoke. It was enough to know that if Harry were to be disciplined over this, the other Malfoy spawn should be punished more severely.

''Thank you for your generosity, my Lord,'' Lucius muttered in return, a hint of relief audible.

It didn't appear that his partner agreed with the statement, feeling colder than usual and irritatingly diverting his attention more to his guardians than Voldemort. It developed into a mental tug of war with the Malfoys in their middle, a fight more challenging to win than should have been the case, with Voldemort snaring the men of the family in conversation while Harry only kept Narcissa's attention. It didn't appear that Harry would honour the victory however, for while the teen refused his adoptive mother's suggestions about a birthday party before the Lughnasadh celebration, citing prior plans that could be nothing other than their planned date, Harry's mood did not even grow warmer as they wrapped up and headed home. Voldemort attempted to put his hand on the teen's shoulder when returning to the front garden of their bubble dimension, only for his fingers to be shrugged off with a spike of irritation.

''Evan…''

''Would it kill you to show just a touch of pride at my achievements,'' Harry spoke with no small amount of hurt, a statement that came out of nowhere. ''You know I did the best I could. I studied my arse off, despite, you know, ending Umbridge's terror, teaching an underground student group in my spare time, being thrown into a new social environment to which I had to quickly adapt only months ago and helping you in all ways I could after running from the Ministry. Even halfway during the exam weeks, I had to deal with tearing my soul and preparing to face off Dumbledore. And don't you dare say these are excuses.''

Although Voldemort at last understood that his internal disappointment had dug up more insecurities than he'd believed they should, it was hard for glowing pride to shine through when having hoped for more. That Harry's explanations were all understandable could not force Voldemort to feel different about it. He clenched his jaw, not about to start apologising for feeling freely after coming such a long road to be able to. Instead, he defended his muted reaction: ''I've seen you perform feats of magic that border the impossible. Witnessing your practical exams, I had looked forward to seeing the same excellency in your theory. I am still pleased with most of the marks you achieved, and even more so that it will allow you to have your pick of the futures you desired. It does not erase the irritation of that, under different circumstances, you could have excelled further.''

He starkly felt that Harry swallowed a bitter reply that might have led to regret, and Voldemort caught Harry's hand before his partner could storm upstairs, not giving way when the other furiously attempted to pull it out of his grip. The Dark Lord didn't even sway as their mental link clouded over red in second-hand anger and the walls around them began to rattle dangerously. ''I did not say this to anger you,'' he firmly spoke. ''I realise the circumstances were not optimal. Also, I once told Severus that a students' performance is first and foremost a reflection of their teacher,'' he spoke, revealing that at least one of the major sources of disgruntlement did not lie with Harry. ''I have focused on the wrong subject matter too, evidently going overboard for courses in which you already reached a point at which improvement was no longer necessary and neglecting others.'' He neither admitted this to garner sympathy, nor to flatter his partner. It was a simple fact. ''I shall do better.''

Although Harry did calm down somewhat, the annoyance didn't fade completely. ''Now you're just being unfair to both of us. That you love teaching doesn't make it your job. You already have another, arguably far more important one than being a tutor. We had limited time and made the best of that, or did you think I could have achieved an Outstanding in more than Defence on my own?''

''Yes.''

Harry finally stopping struggling to snatch his hand back, a bit baffled at the blunt reply for reasons unknown. It had been nothing but perfectly honest. For good measure, Voldemort lifted the warm hand to his lips to brush the knuckles. It felt as if Harry were trying very hard to be patient when saying: ''I was a less than average student before you showed up in my life. In a positive way, that is. I never imagined passing any of my end-of-year exams with a majority of E and above. Merlin, I more than passed the requirements to advance of the path of becoming a Healer by getting nine O. W. L. s, same as Draco, who had to study for one subject less… So please, can you not allow me to celebrate what I personally see as an overwhelming victory?''

Inhaling deeply, Voldemort attempted to push his own standards aside for once, concentrating instead on the desperate hope and remaining underlying joy Harry exuded. He imaged wrapping himself in it until being able to accept that practically, having an E or a O in a course that allowed students to advance to the next level with the former grade plainly didn't matter. ''You'll have plenty of time for uninterrupted study once starting your sixth year at Hogwarts,'' Voldemort acknowledged.

Huffing, his partner reminded: ''And likely more than a few years of self-study before I can actually return to school.''

''In the meantime, I will attempt to find a practical position in which you can start training as a Healer,'' Voldemort suggested. ''If you are set on that career.''

Harry massaged the back of his hand as it was finally released and thought about the offer. ''That sounds like a wonderful idea. It can't hurt to start early and will give me something to do to help, even though I'm still undecided between becoming a Healer or a teacher. The main advantage of healing is of course that there are multiple available vacancies. 'Defence teacher at Hogwarts' only has a single one, and that is solely due to the curse put on in.''

''And you are eager to take a cursed position?'' he questioned, receiving an incredulous look.

''You're the one who placed it, surely you can and will remove it for me,'' his partner all but demanded. The Dark Lord silently debated whether he should. If Inferi recognised the other as being similar enough to their creator to obey commands, should this curse not break on its own once Harry took what was supposed to have been Voldemort's rightful position? Was that worth the risk of his partner possibly losing to the curse and never being able to apply a second time…? The next words pulled him back to reality, however, as Harry pondered aloud: ''I'm surprised you didn't already, with the position being filled by one of your followers. I know a couple of weeks aren't enough to activate the curse, but it might become a problem if Amycus stays on board as a teacher for the upcoming school year. And if not, Snape will snatch the position for himself. He doesn't seem to believe the job is cursed as he's been desperately applying for years.''

When sending the Carrows to Hogwarts, Voldemort had thought about undoing the curse he'd placed so long ago, as Barty hadn't been able to circumvent it either. However, it took a few months to take hold, so he'd decided against it for now. It wasn't yet set in stone that Amycus would also fill the position for the majority of next year. Truth be told, a small part of it was the inability to let go, as removing the curse before it fulfilled its intended purpose would equal being defeated: the finality of admitting he would never become a teacher as had been Voldemort's original wish. ''I did briefly consider it,'' he curtly said, unwilling to elaborate.

''Your followers must be immensely appreciative of your graceful consideration to let them live past the year in the position you ordered them to take.'' It was said in a snarky yet amused tone, and the fact that Harry was back to his usual humorous self after their argument had almost escalated just minutes ago did more to lift the spirits than the humour in itself.

Tuned into his partner enough by now to recognise the offered olive branch, even when disguised as biting banter – or especially then - he shot back: ''As you are surely appreciative of me knowing a spell to wash out your mouth with soap yet having the restraint not to cast it every five seconds.''

Deciding to use this moment to put their differences behind them and discerning Harry would not refuse, Voldemort drew the other close. It wasn't a passionate embrace by any means, but even simply pressing the flat of his nose to the crown of messy, tickling black hair that smelled more like home than the house they lived in, was plenty to disorientate all other senses. Only when they at last pulled apart, did Voldemort notice that time was passing again.

''You wished to visit our prisoners, still,'' he muttered. ''We'd best use the remaining hours. I will not be available for the next week at least, and intended to have Barty release Hagrid coming Tuesday, right before the next routine Ministry inspection. Like that, they'll only take note of the groundkeeper being missing for two weeks instead of three, hardly unusual enough for a summer holiday to investigate. Even three would be a stretch, but I wish to be careful.''

''In a moment, I forgot to feed Fawkes this afternoon,'' he said. ''With having had the luxury of leaving Hedwig in the Owlery at Hogwarts for the majority of the past years and Nagini only needing to be fed once a week, I keep forgetting how much birds eat. Have to remedy that before he'll start to resent me.''

''Are you forgetting that Phoenixes are immortal? It can hardly die of starvation.''

''So are we, and I know you can get very grumpy when dinner isn't ready in a timely manner.''

Staunchly refusing to take the bait of another argument, the Dark Lord wordlessly followed Harry to the newly set up aviary in Harry's old room that he'd personally conjured and enchanted to ensure the beast couldn't escape. He had conflicting feelings about this particular bird… It had given the tail feather for both brother wands and saved Harry's life twice. On the other hand, it had served Dumbledore a great many years and aided in slaughtering Slytherin's noble Basilisk. Not to mention that under its banner, exactly those people who despised Voldemort's ways had gathered…

''I wonder if Fawkes would get along with Hedwig…'' Harry mused as he held up a few treats for the bird, which had perched on the teen's shoulder as soon as they'd entered. Technically having been the one to capture the phoenix hadn't diminished the animal's affection, it appeared. ''It's a shame I couldn't bring her with me when escaping from Hogwarts. Should have gone to the Owlery and sent her to the burrow or another safe place…''

''And risked being captured by Aurors on your detour through the entirety of the castle? I was under the impression that you fled from the dungeons through the tunnels.''

''True, but I did gather some of my belongings in Gryffindor tower earlier that day. I just didn't want to screw up Snape's strict schedule, but if I'd been quick about it, maybe-''

''Severus would have chewed you out if you'd have been a second late.''

Harry's guilt deflated. ''I suppose you're right. Maybe, now Dumbledore isn't there to watch for my movements, I can ask Snape to send Hedwig our way. I do miss her. It's not as if I am trying to hide anymore from the rest of the Order either that I ran away instead of being forcefully taken.''

It was wondrous what a few careless words could do. The already extremely scarce thoughts Voldemort had spared on the snowy owl flew out of the window as his mind instead provided images of roughly shoving Harry into the nearest wall. He swallowed a suggestive reply, as this was not the time for such matters. His partner could hardly ease their prisoners' guilt with visible bruises and bite marks.

''Here you blamed me for having my mind in the gutter all the time,'' Harry commented, clearly picking up on his mood. ''Do remember that any and all frustration regarding that topic is your blame to take, and yours alone,'' he added, sharply sweet.

Voldemort didn't deem that comment worth a reply, as there'd truly been no need to give a voice to the wholly different hunger that was getting harder to ignore by the day.

''We need to move unless it's your wish to make a habit of staying up entire nights.''

''Might be good practise,'' Harry replied with a grin that wasn't at all innocent and which only widened when Voldemort finally had enough and fired a stinging spell. The Dark Lord suspected that the teen had grown rather too used to getting hurt between Barty's harsh training and the torture he'd endured at Hogwarts. Conveniently ignoring his own perfect memory, Voldemort decided not to recall every single horrendous way in which he'd personally hurt Harry. It should be enough that he'd silently avowed never to turn a Cruciatus curse on his partner since their relationship had turned serious.

The faint tinge of wittiness only faded once they reached their next destination, an old hide-out on the uninhabited moors discovered by one of his earliest Knights, Apophis Lestrange. The place had been used to house the very first prisoners Voldemort had taken after returning to England, and a great many more after that. Orion and Abraxas had turned their noses up at the suggestion of using a place so close to Muggles, but Apophis had always been more pragmatic than both of them combined.

''You have a thing for caves, don't you?'' Harry asked, critically looking at the gaping entrance and the hundreds of large, curiously geometric rocks that were spread all over as if a Giant had been playing marbles. The teen kicked a rusty soda can nearby. ''More litter here than in the last one. No anti-Muggle wards?''

''Those wards certainly keep Muggles away, but are also a beacon to Ministry-employed hunters.'' At Harry's questioning look, he elaborated: ''Lapdogs of the Aurors who scour Britain for illegal activities of dark mages. I'd rather have a Muggle stumble across this cave every now and then, than for my personal prison to be found by those who can uncover the layers used to hide the important parts.''

''Didn't even know you had a jail of your own…'' Harry mused. ''I thought you kept any captives either at home like we did with Umbridge, or moved them to a safe house or something.''

''When coming into power and quickly starting to make enemies, it became a necessity to have. Azkaban was officially in the Ministry's hands after all, despite me having had the Dementors' allegiance. Sending personal enemies there would hardly have been practical. It's a stroke of luck the Ministry never discovered the place after my death, their forces spread too thin to inspect every corner of Muggle Britain on top of everywhere else for remnants of my presence.''

''I learn something more disturbing about you every day,'' his partner cheerfully said while pushing on, entering the relatively shallow cavern. To the side of it was more litter, which Voldemort removed with an irritated wave. He might need to set some traps to catch the vermin… Surely no Muggles who set up makeshifts camp on the moors and couldn't even be bothered to pick up their dirty tins, would ever produce offspring worthy of commanding magic.

As he started unravelling the delicate layers of illusion enchantments in the back to reveal the entrance to the deeper tunnels, Harry spoke up: ''Good thing we didn't meet through one of those dating advertisements in the papers. 'Has a personal prison' would have been a bit of a red flag, methinks.''

''Moreso than our personal history? Doubtful,'' Voldemort muttered, finishing his work with a decisive slash. The rock shimmered and revealed a natural crevice that led further into the earth. ''That could not deter you from pursuing me either.''

''Says the one who started courting me before I knew left from right,'' came the half-hearted response. Taking a deep breath to calm fluttering nerves, Harry walked up to the cut in the wall barely large enough for a grown man of average width to fit through, and peered into the black. The teen didn't seem so enthusiastic anymore about meeting the Order now they were actually here, dallying in hesitation.

''Go on then. I shall wait here, it'll be counterproductive if I stand at your side throughout the entire exchange. They'll need to see you have the opportunity to speak and leave without force.''

It took another brief kiss being pressed to Voldemort's lips for his Gryffindor to gather the courage to step into the darkness.

XxX

As Harry felt alongside the walls until what was barely a crack tapered outwards into a tunnel, a torch flaring to life almost gave him a heart attack. How typical for Voldemort to not think to mention that while Harry had trying to overcome his hesitation of going in blind. It was a bloody miracle torches had even been installed in such a place. He basked in its light and warmth as the evening chill cut straight through thin robes. He'd need to pack something warmer when heading into the catacombs soon. It'd be highly unlikely to be greeted with magical fire in there.

The path stretched on, winding and diving into the earth as if he walked inside of a giant earthworm. Ten torches, twenty… Despite only a single road being ahead, he felt almost as lost as he'd done when traversing the labyrinth during the Triwizard Tournament, minutes seeming an eternity as he walked with frozen feet.

It might have been smart to switch his wand out for a non-traced spare to cast some warming charms. Then again, he didn't want to pose the slightest threat to the imprisoned Order members. An illusion for their comfort in a way when the slightest hint of distress would summon Voldemort like a wrathful demon, but he felt it more proper to meet them empty-handed. As the Weasleys had shown, Dumbledore's exact plans hadn't been common knowledge. Most of the members had only had Harry's and his friends' best interests in mind when attacking Voldemort's home. Even Dumbledore had, in that moment… he could hardly blame them for not having the full picture. Thus, coming at them with a drawn wand while they had no possibility to defend themselves seemed wrong.

At last, another stone door appeared, from which an echo of the Dark Lord's faded magic could be felt. A blood ward, he realised at once, searching around for a sharp edge to make an offering in order to pass through. The few drops of red he smeared onto the grey rock were absorbed into it. The door crumbled in the same way the entrance to the cave of Inferi had.

He caught the end of a hushed sentence – ''way out if we have to-'' through the first cracks before the noise of his entrance killed the conversation. Curious that they weren't silenced. Harry had lowkey expected Voldemort to deprive his captives of speech to avoid hatching any plans of escaping together. Did he just not see them as enough of a threat, even now?

From the length of the tunnel, he'd expected the place to be larger. There was only a single row of three cells on the left side, each one occupied by a single person: Hestia Jones, Dedalus Diggle, and-

''Hagrid!'' Unable to hold back, Harry rushed to the largest cell, grabbed the bars and pressed his face to them. His hands were instantly covered in Fang's drool, the large dog furiously trying to lick every inch of his fingers in greeting. He tried to ignore the unpleasant wetness as effectively as the shocked cries of 'Potter?' coming from the adjoining cells, sticking a hand in further to scratch behind Fang's ear affectionately ''Hi boy,'' he quickly whispered to acknowledge the dog, then looked up into Hagrid's disbelieving face.

''Harry… yer here? Are ye…'' the man frantically looked around. ''Here to rescue us?''

''O-oh… errr,'' he stuttered, taken aback. He'd expected Barty or the other Death Eaters who'd visited the prison to have informed them of the situation a bit more thoroughly by now. ''Well, you're being let go soon, so there isn't much of a need for that to be honest.''

''Let go?'' Diggle piped up, approaching the bars of his own cell. It was strange to see the tiny man without his typical top hat, which might have gotten lost during his capture. ''Does that mean we've won?''

Slowly, Harry shook his head to dispel those illusions. ''What have you been told?''

Before Diggle could answer, Hagrid boomed: ''A load of blasted Hippogriff dung! Skullfaces came in here, trying ter convince us yeh lot defected! I told 'm, I did. I told 'm, not our Harry! Far too bright to be taken in with the likes of – of Malfoys and Carrows, bah!'' His chest heaved with anger, making his wild beard look alive.

''Hagrid,'' Jones softly said. ''I cannot be the only one who finds it strange that Potter is standing on that side of the bars, speaking of knowing when we'll be released but not seeming very inclined to open the doors himself.''

Bushy brows knitted together. Unlike an unfortunately too great number of Slytherins Harry personally knew, who'd jeer about Hagrid being slow to catch on, he knew this unwavering rejection of obvious facts was rooted in an immeasurable amount of idealistic trust. He hated to topple that mountain, but Barty had clearly failed to be convincing.

''I never wanted any of you to get hurt,'' he carefully started. If he'd affirm their fears straightaway, there'd be no foot in the door of reason anymore. ''And I appreciate what the Order of the Phoenix has done in the past: fighting against Voldemort's senseless war and protecting those who needed it. Thing is, this renewed Order is fighting against a ghost. There won't be another war to prevent unless you provoke one, and you honestly came dangerously close to igniting a spark that might have set off a powder keg.''

''A powder what?'' Diggle asked.

Jones sighed irritably and muttered: ''Like a bombarada, Ded. He's saying we would have been responsible for blowing us all into pieces. That lines up with what Crouch said.''

''A killer, a liar,'' Hagrid grumbled under his breath. ''Murdered good old Alastor, that one did.''

Thin, black eyebrows were raised as Jones crossed her arms. ''Good old Alastor, who was very open about exacting vigilante justice with 'preventive killing'. I'm also sorry the old bastard is gone, but we can't pretend he was a saint who didn't have a mean bone in his body. Potter… we don't know each other well, but you seem to have your head screwed on right, going by the stories Sirius told about you. After we were locked in here, we've been asked many questions and surprisingly got just as many answers out of our jailors. Sadly, those tales were rather hard to believe: talks of Dumbledore having ulterior motives involving your slaughter – Crouch seemed very upset about that – and a utopia of a new world being painted that would be achieved without any Muggle casualties. Frankly, I'm sceptical, and you heard what Hagrid thinks about it. What is your version?''

Not too happy about it once again resting on his shoulders to be convincing – something he was only moderately good at, given his track record of getting pretty much only his closest friends and Sirius on his side in two whole years – he decided to keep it brief instead of trying to speak for hours as he'd tried with the Weasleys. He'd come here to ease Hagrid's conscience, not justify his actions to the Order.

''My version is that Voldemort is trying to undo much of the damage he left after realising the errors of his ways. I have believed for years now that giving him that chance of turning over a new leaf is indeed the best option we have. The Ministry is thoroughly corrupt and barely keeps this country running on a broken leg, while the few others who could have stepped up to make a positive difference – including Dumbledore at some point – refused to take that responsibility. There's more on the line besides, and while I personally can differentiate the horrible actions of a few Muggles enough not to begrudge all of them as some hive-minded mass, it's been an eye-opener to see how much influence their opinions and culture had on ours. Stated plainly, I did join Voldemort once figuring out he is finally using the power granted to him to take responsible steps forward to improve our lives. Also, I didn't defect from anything, as I never was a part of the Order or otherwise gave Dumbledore any promises to support the fighting he found necessary. What I did do was stick to my own beliefs to make a difference, convincing Voldemort to think more critically of his own actions.''

It took a while after his brief speech for any of them to speak. ''Meaning?'' Jones asked, pinning him down with a look that reminded starkly of Professor McGonagall.

''While I can't pretend he's an… err… objectively good person-'' he spoke, trying to find a diplomatic way to describe the Dark Lord. Putting any personal feelings aside, the man he'd fallen for had more than a few moral flaws. ''-Voldemort hasn't sacrificed innocent bystanders anymore for a while. Even with Muggles, he's more careful as they could potentially be useful when he rules.''

The few remaining whispers between Diggle and Hagrid died down instantly. Had he said something wrong?

''If, yeh mean.'' The man eyed him with a strange look he'd never seen before. With sinking heart, Harry recognised it as suspicion. ''If he ever rules.''

''When,'' Harry repeated, straightening his back. ''It is only a matter of time. Look, I only came here today because I don't want you to keep acting based on lies. I didn't set the record straight before about this supposed 'kidnapping' in hopes to win time, so Dumbledore couldn't do more damage. Now… now he's no longer a threat, I do not wish to keep living like that. You also deserve better than to waste your energy on fixing non-existing problems.''

''Non-existing?'' Diggle incredulously repeated. ''We try to prevent You-Know-Who from murdering! Potter, history is already repeating itself. Horace Slughorn, Bertha Jonkins, Barty Crouch Senior, Rufus Scrimgeous, Alastor and now Emmeline... all killed in just the last two years. You speak of second chances, boy? Had You-Know-Who revived with a phenomenal, true change of heart as you suggest, none of them would be dead!''

This was exactly what he had warned Voldemort about, Harry realised with growing dread. Not everyone was as saintly forgiving of murder. Pointing out a lessened death rate wasn't good enough for those whose limit of forgivable casualties lay at zero. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry realised it was a little bit fucked up that this wasn't a dealbreaker to so many people he was acquainted with. Including himself.

Put down a bit, Harry looked each of them in the eyes, seeing betrayal in three different forms. He recalled how Dedalus Diggle had been one of the strangers who'd embarrassed his aunt by greeting Harry in the streets long before he'd known he was famous, let alone what for. It was hard to imagine what kind of image Diggle had had of Harry back then, and whether he'd ever seen a person instead of an idolised hero.

''I don't know what you expect of me,'' he confessed. ''In my opinion, Voldemort is our only hope of reaching a future I want to live in. One with the promise of freedom and purpose both. The Order never again lived up to its history, as all the plans you had were either pointless or ineffective.'' It wasn't his intention to insult them, but he needed them to give up on these risky endeavours that only needlessly endangered their lives. ''Dumbledore is gone – not dead but gone nonetheless – and many of those you might have counted on aren't on your side anymore. I certainly won't be if you decide to keep fighting after being released. That you are released at all despite refusing to yield should be a testimony in itself of Voldemort's new intentions. So, take that chance. Please.''

''Yer not Harry,'' Hagrid muttered, standing up to full height and coming so close to the bars that Harry could feel stray hairs of the man's beard tickling his face. ''Yeh can't be.''

Those few words hurt more than any of Diggle's accusations. Harry took a step back as a pang of loss shot through him. It had been a long time coming, he supposed. Hadn't he expected the same amount of rejection from Sirius, Ron and Hermione? It was a bloody miracle that so many people he cared for had come around to see his point of view, and none of them had been so caught between loyalties. Not even Professor Lupin, who was only half on board due to rejecting his own nature.

Hagrid owed everything to Dumbledore. Anything that would paint the old Headmaster in a negative light, or Dumbledore's enemies in a positive one, would be dismissed as deception. Knowing that didn't ease the pain.

Maybe it had been the sudden spike in emotions, maybe he'd also been down here too long to Voldemort's liking. In either case, Harry could sense his partner coming closer faster than should humanly be possible. Steeling himself, the teen knew he should end this conversation quickly.

''Hagrid-''

''No Potter would stand by as folks get hurt,'' he was interrupted as Hagrid doubled down ''They'd rather throw themselves in the line o' fire.''

''He did for years,'' a smooth, cool voice spoke as Lord Voldemort stepped through the crumbled wall. The reactions to his appearance were peculiar. Diggle immediately backed into the furthest corner and looked at the Dark Lord with fearful, wide eyes, Jones trembled and pointedly stared at the nearest wall like a caught deer, whereas Hagrid turned aggressive, metal bars creaking as he attempted to bend them open. ''As I recall, Harry received no more than suspicion and scorn for it. Rumours of being a dark wizard to regard with wariness before even entering Hogwarts, of releasing a vicious monster inside of the school and of cheating in the Triwizard Tournament for glory are only a few unflattering examples. All that although he attempted to murder me singlehandedly at thirteen years of age, mind befuddled with the most ridiculous theories.''

''All theories Barty confirmed were true before your death,'' Harry couldn't help but mutter.

''Thank you, incredibly helpful in this moment. Now, do wrap this up. I did not imagine it would take this long to reassure them I indeed did not keep you by force. You've wasted enough words on these… ants.'' Narrowed ruby eyes trailed across the haunted and furious faces. ''They are not worth a moment more. Any further distress they bring about in you will outweigh the usefulness of keeping them alive.''

He genuinely believed that, Harry confirmed when mentally reaching out. In Voldemort's eyes, these three may as well be specks of dust to decisively wipe off a dirty surface. There was no urge to murder them out of hatred as had been the case when encountering a group of Muggles in France nor would they give personal satisfaction like Dumbledore's death would have if Voldemort hadn't considered the political value of keeping the Headmaster alive a higher priority. No, these were people he would clinically do away with solely so their existence would stop being a tiny bother as soon as they became more of an annoyance than compliant to the Dark Lord's careful plans.

They were aware of it, too. Harry was familiar with all the reactions visible on their faces, as he too had been struck with the same fear when unfeeling eyes had bored into his as Voldemort ordered Quirrel to kill. They knew the Dark Lord only by his numerous appalling deeds.

''Remember our earlier conversation at dinner,'' Harry gently reminded. ''Their unharmed release will be helpful in more ways than once. Was that not your intention?''

~Hardly worth this discomfort. It would be a minor setback. So far, these people have exclusively used light magic, and although slaughtering every light mage is hardly a productive solution, it will not upset the balance I am attempting to reach either.~

''It would still have unpredictable consequences,'' Harry answered, refusing to make them more afraid of him by exchanging Parseltongue, purposefully trying to keep his reply vague instead.

~Do you know how long ago it has been since I have killed a human being?~

''Yes, and the restraint is much appreciated. Also, don't think your solution would bring me less distress.''

~You cannot be an excuse for me to take more lives if I wish to keep you.~ It took a moment for Harry to realise it was a repetition of the exact words he'd told his partner the day they'd gotten together. It hadn't been exactly what he'd meant, as especially Hagrid's death would cause just as much grief to him as Sirius' or Barty's would, but as the message had been received regardless, he nodded.

''That's the gist of it.''

''Immortality aside, I have a feeling you will bring me into an early grave out of sheer frustration,'' Voldemort growled, cast a last despising look at his prisoners and turned to head back into the tunnel. '' We can't afford to dawdle. If you do not follow within three minutes, I'll forcefully side-apparate you.''

''What, across a distance?''

Voldemort neither halted nor cared to throw another glance over his shoulder as he disappeared into the tunnel while asking: ''Did you not claim we are connected in all ways that matter? Physical distance hardly matters when it comes to us. I'll take the risk of you splinching in favour of a little experiment, trouble.''

~That is not becoming a regular endearment,~ Harry furiously hissed, forgetting all about his resolution not to use Parsel.

''That depends on your actions, trouble.''

''You're frustrating!'' he shouted into the dark, fuming when receiving no answer.

It was hardly surprising that the first one to speak was the one he knew least. ''Potter,'' Jones breathed, awaking from her stupor. Had this been the first time she'd seen Voldemort up close instead of listening to tales about the man? She'd not been a member of the first Order, he recalled, and the Dark Lord hadn't bothered visiting his captives personally before today as far as Harry was aware. ''Potter- '' she repeated, more urgently. ''Did you just bargain for our lives?''

Answering was impossible, as Harry clearly still stood far too close to the bars of Hagrid's cell. With shocking dexterity and speed, the large man wrung a hand, then a whole arm through one of the gaps and grabbed his shoulder ''Harry!'' Hagrid cried out as the teen somehow got caught in the most awkward hug he'd ever had in his lifetime, cold metal pressing against his face as a strong hand that covered his entire back reeled him in. ''It's really you! Only our Harry could've so much heart that it rubs off even on- on someone like him.''

''Glad to see you again too,'' Harry grinned, meaning every word of it. ''Can't breathe well like this, though.''

''Oh- oh, err, my bad.''

From the side, Jones gave another piercing stare, but Harry was rather too occupied calming his friend down to react. ''I was absolutely serious about not wishing harm to come to you,'' he reassured. ''Also about being somewhat of Voldemort's voice of reason these days.''

Softer and slower, Hagrid's bear-hands patted his head, an unnameable emotion crossing the usually so easy to read face. ''Tis not your job to stop anyone from committing crimes. Least of all the one responsible for-'' he bit down a choking, beady eyes getting suspiciously moist. ''Harry, you ought to enjoy quiet days sipping tea and laughing with yer friends.''

''I see it as a hobby rather than a job, one that's heaps more useful to have than trading cards,'' he quipped in an attempt to break the tension. ''Also, my friends have been quite appreciative of my connection to Voldemort recently. He saved Ron's life, you know, and allowed Hermione to have a hand in his upcoming political reforms that concern Muggle-borns.''

Diggle, who'd only barely recovered from his shock and was still white as a sheet, shuffled forwards. ''You-Know-Who asked for advice from your Muggle-born friend?''

''I might have had to nag him about the topic one too many times to get the value of doing so into his skull, but yes. I know this must be quite a lot to take in and I can't expect you to suddenly put your faith in the one you've been fighting against, but when you are released – which won't be long, I promise – please do not instantly return to attempting to destroy him without having a critical look first. Both of his current actions and inwards.''

''And if we cannot promise that?'' Jones questioned, shooting both others a look as if to gauge their current stance.

As calmly as possible, he replied: ''Then I'll have done all I can. I doubt you'll end up here again next time you attack without provocation. He's certainly more reasonable now, but reason usually ends when someone actively tries to murder you. Take that from me, I've got plenty of experience.''

''Because of You-Know-Who,'' Diggle muttered, nervously hopping from one foot onto the other. ''If reason ends with being attacked, why are you on his side? He has tried to kill you – multiple times according to Albus.''

''Twice, that is true. Thrice if you count a bit of magic that got out of hand independently. However, I am very much trying to convince you right now to stop trying to destroy him in order to continue your life in peace. Just like he did. As soon as our differences were cleared up and he protected me instead, it was rather easy to see past the monster that had haunted my dreams. Our past cannot be erased, nor will it return my parents, but holding onto hatred for the sake of it won't help me or anyone else. He's more than made it up to me, and it's my deepest wish that his future actions can make up for his past faults.''

Irritation not his own that drifted into Harry's mind and caused a headache made clear that his three minutes were already up. ''I've got to go,'' he grimaced. ''Would love to stay longer, but he hardly ever jokes about testing the limits of magic. If I stay longer, he might actually try to apparate me out of here.'' Bloody madman, he thought fondly, though did not voice it as alluding to his partner being insane in any capacity – in jest or not – would surely wipe away what little progress he might have made.

''We'll really get out of here soon?'' Diggle called out once Harry had pet Fang once more and given Hagrid an awkward handshake that of course escalated into another painful hug.

''Hagrid will get out coming Tuesday, which is in three days. From what I gathered, the both of you will be released shortly after.'' He tied to come up with more to say, either words of encouragement or pleas, but couldn't think of anything fitting. No pretty words would erase his actions of leaving them behind in locked cells.

Harry was grateful for the first torch near him that flickered in a welcoming way as soon as the rock closed up behind him again. Until its light disappeared from view in a too-familiar whirl of colours, the yellow and red flames becoming no more than a streaking on Harry's retinas. The pulling was both more painful and nauseating than any apparition he'd experienced before.

''Hey!'' he indignantly coughed upon landing on all fours, then froze when a chill that had nothing to do with either the cave or the time of night washed over him, permeating right down to his very bones. Looking up with dread, he was met with the blind, scabbed eyes of a Dementor. Undiscernible words scratched at the back of his mind, accompanied with the sound of waves as he instinctively pulled at an invisible something beyond their reality. Harry was about to let the stream of whispers rush out, when Voldemort grabbed his arm and dragged them to another destination.

XxX

Upon apparating straight through their dimensional wards into the dining room to cut off any trail for the Dementors to follow them by, he noted with unease that the aim had been off by about a foot, almost causing them to bump into a chair. It was negligible in distance but should not have happened regardless, uncomfortable proof of being rattled.

''What was that about? Where'd they come from? What did they want?'' came a rapid stream of questions the second Harry gathered his wits. For a moment, his partner's irises seemed to be coloured lilac, which must have been a trick of the light as they were back to green with the next blink. Maybe. Voldemort filed any possible theories about it away for now.

''They have been looking for me since Rosier revealed my return to the Ministry.'' His hand found Harry's to send calming waves across. Panicking wasn't helpful right now. ''Thus far, doing so was relatively easy due to only singular Dementors attempting to cover that amount of ground, as they could not alert the Ministry to too many of them missing from Azkaban. We were either very unlucky, or they upped the numbers who searched for me recently. Possible, now Umbridge no longer controls the Dementors and they were removed from Hogwarts. In the fray, I imagine some managed to slip away from the Ministry's eyes.''

''And your first choice was to teleport away?'' Harry asked, clearly uncertain about this approach. ''It's not at all like you to run from problems. I understood the decision to evade them in general to avoid dealing with their demands, but when one gets up in your face, surely it's going to cause more drama to literally flee from the scene. Won't they be… you know, suspicious? How about just saying 'Sorry, not interested' to clear up why you haven't approached them?''

As if it would be that simple. His partner was excellent in picking apart emotions of people, but Dementors could not be further removed from humanity. Voldemort restrained himself from correcting the use of the word 'teleport' to explain his decision instead.

''Continuing to avoid their little search parties is the only sensible tactic at this point. That I have no use for starved Dementors does not mean I can outright deny them being mine to rule and command. Leaving in a spur of the moment without giving answers was the only solution that won't make them swarm across the country like a plague for being rejected. They'll speculate about my reason of disappearance instead.''

''Since when can Dementors feel rejection?'' the teen moaned, throwing himself on the sofa.

''They know hunger, vengeance and curiosity. The former two are quite the deadly combination, whereas I am banking on the third to keep them at bay.'' It truly was quite the dilemma that they'd been able to personally confirm Voldemort's resurrection now, so the only remaining option had been to leave them wondering. He could hardly give the Dementors what they desired – to hunt freely and be fed plenty of souls without being contained – nor would it be wise to plainly tell them this. Although he was personally not at risk, having the souls sucked out of his followers in revenge would be less than ideal. Dementors couldn't care less about magical balance or political intrigue. Having these particular allies out of the way in Azkaban until a moment that he might have use for a fleet of Dementors and the means to control them properly was the only way forward without having to throw away his plans for a relatively quiet takeover.

''There has to be some other option! Curiosity can be just as dangerous. You can't fully predict the lengths they'll go to, to find you once again. How about-''

Having enough, Voldemort crouched down on top of Harry. Catching a slender throat in his claw effectively shut his love up, pupils rapidly dilating as he brought their faces together. ''Your advice on this matter is neither helpful nor appreciated,'' the Dark Lord plainly stated. ''You know nothing of Dementors other than how to fight them. I will not fight them. They'll have a role to play – later. Unfortunately, Dementors have a different notion of time than we do. Fifty years can peacefully pass them by as long as nothing changes. Whispers of my resurrection started their search, but they have floated across the moors day in day out without growing impatient until finding me and deciding on their next actions. Were I to show myself and, as you suggested, deny their questionable 'aid', it wouldn't matter whether I make promises for the future. They cannot understand that concept.'' Harry's Adam's apple bobbed beneath his palm as another protesting was swallowed down. Pleased to find the worries lessening, Voldemort let pure magic rush into his hands.

As it hit its mark, his partner shivered. ''That's an unfair tactic to confuse me.''

''You were already calming down, this is merely your reward,'' he muttered, bending down to claim Harry's lips. ''Just like this is.''

~This isn't bringing us closer to a solution.~

~A solution to what? I have already determined how to handle the situation,~ he replied, straightening again to look down at the slightly dishevelled form sprawled across the black sofa. ~A decision that shall be accepted. I freely admit it is not ideal, yet no other course of action would stand a chance of giving better results. There is no better alternative. We will simply have to adapt if the Dementors indeed take more drastic measures to get answers after today.~

Harry's head fell back against the leather with enough force to make it creak in protest. It appeared he finally gave in, seeing the common sense behind this strategy. ''Why were they even specifically searching there?'' the teen asked, quieter now. ''I remember you telling me about stories of black ghosts on the moors when you were still directly in charge of the Prophet, but I thought that just happened to be where they were searching back then.''

''I've used some of them as guards way back when as they'd proven to be effective at the job. They do exchange information with each other, so I have no doubt any currently existing Dementors know of my prison and other locations near it that I used for gatherings: ruins and ancient sites in which magic wells up. This is the exact reason why I didn't personally visit any of those for long, if at all. The only time in the past years I've spent more than a couple of minutes at one of my old meeting spots was to initiate Barty as my right hand. That day, I rather took the risk of putting up wards that might leave traces to keep such unwanted company away than exposing myself directly.'' Between the lines, he emphasised the accusation of this being Harry's fault for frittering time away.

''Maybe if you'd done so tonight-''

''For a short visit, that risk would not have outweighed the benefits.'' Before Harry responded, a blue flash registered at the edge of his field of vision. Already having been on edge, Voldemort instinctively drew his wand and fired a line of stunners in rapid succession, greatly annoyed when realising it were Black and Weasley who dropped to the floor. His partner rushed up to them, casting a Finite as Voldemort looked down on the two idiots with disdain. ''Have I not been clear enough about your abusing of this portkey?'' he hissed, refusing to lower his wand, pointing it straight at Black's throat.

''Harryyyy…'' the mutt whined, glancing sideways. ''We just got worried because your dinners at the Malfoys usually don't take that long. It's eleven thirty! Don't tell me you forgot about your promise to hang out with us tonight to discuss new ways to whip your students in shape. We already had to leave you alone all day.'' Clearly, the idea of missing out on time with Harry drove Black more insane than he already was. Which was understandable, naturally, but it also made Voldemort's blood boil that other people craved his partner's attention too. Why had he indulged in saving this man's life, again? Black had been nothing but a clingy, disruptive nuisance.

Going by his partner's instant rising guilt, Harry had forgotten all about it in between their making out, talking to Tom and meeting with the Malfoys. Guilt was still one of Vodlemort's least favourite emotions to feel, being as unpleasantly clammy as a weak, wet handshake.

''Deal with these two,'' he demanded. Banning them from the house to spend more time with his partner would be preferable, but the Dementor's appearance made it necessary to inform his closest followers and allies about the possibility of the creatures becoming bolder. No living beings would profit from that, so he preferred for everyone to be on guard. His day off was quickly coming to an end.

Like usual, he didn't need to voice all of this to his partner, whose face fell a bit when realising that Voldemort could stay no longer. ''Will we see each other at all in the coming days?'' he inquired, both mentally and physically reaching out to interweave as much as possible for a moment longer.

''Briefly. My summer isn't any less eventful than your own.'' Quite the understatement… there'd been precious little time for sitting down with a good book since revealing his presence at Ostara. Adding his own research to that – of dream-sharing, passive magic and recently the Death Stick – he was barely left with a handful of hours each week to spend freely.

~Our date still stands, though?~

~I wouldn't miss it.~

With a grin and cheeks that turned a hint darker, his Gryffindor ignored Black's useless grumbling in favour of tipping his head back in invitation. Voldemort, too, effectively disregarded any annoying background buzzing as he made sure to push the tip of his tongue past soft lips, humming approvingly as he claimed every inch of his Harry's mouth.

The sweet taste disappeared far too soon as the evening turned to night and the days piled up. After tightening any protective wards cast over the years, he ensured to control the playing field both from below the surface and on top of it. He held clandestine meetings with his Inner Circle to ensure their actions were in line with Magic's ideals, travelled abroad in and out of various disguises to inspect all lines of command of the Hand of Magic to replace a few unwanted pieces, and during the daylight interacted with anyone of importance as Noctua, to establish the former Head Editor's new path as a respected political advisor. More than once, he was accompanied by Barty, who was almost uncanny in his new role of Dumbledore.

The efforts paid off, too. Lawson and Troud, two elderly witches who'd been some of the last remaining fanatical supporters of Dumbledore's ideas, were far more open to changes in laws loosening restrictions on the trade of artefacts and the casting of technically dark utility spells when the suggestions came from their idol. Amelia Bones received more than one visit too, as Voldemort was intrigued by her flawless career and no-nonsense attitude. She may not favour heavy magic, but neither did she reject proposals that would benefit the use of it out of principle alone.

Another concern was laid to rest when he confronted one of his supporters who was quickly developing into a versatile knight rather than a pawn: the young Delacour, who had ended up being the centre of a network of fascinating connections ranging from the other Triwizard Champions to Gringotts goblins to the Order of the Phoenix. All the while running the newspapers in Voldemort's name and making effective use of both his followers, whom she'd met at the Ostara ball he'd ensured she'd been forced to attend, to the many beings who'd associated with her late grandmother Séraphine Delacour. Rather than being entangled in that social web, the young woman confidently pulled the strings: not maliciously, but efficiently nonetheless.

It thus alleviated his trepidation regarding her regular visits to William Weasley when she explained over a polite cup of tea - that may or may not have been laced with a dormant poison that he decided not to cast the activation spell of – the exact nature of their relationship. It appeared genuine too, though Delacour had kept many a secret from her boyfriend that might endanger their newfound love once these would come to light. At once, a dangerous threat turned into a prime opening to get one more Weasley on board. William had been less close-minded than his parents so far, even daring to stiffly shake Voldemort's hand for saving the life of his youngest brother.

Perhaps he should also start a collection. It was a shame that the Weasley most easily accessible – Percy Ignatius Weasley, who spent every waking moment in the building of the Ministry of Magic while cut off from both his family and truly important news – was also the one Harry liked least. Best not to begin there.

The nights most regular people wasted with sleeping far too much weren't squandered either. The potion he'd perfected to stay awake for days on end was invaluable as he spent many hours pouring over barely legible texts that spoke of invincible wands matching the description of the one he'd tricked his enemy into giving up. The Tales of Beedle the Bard was combed through and analysed in detail as well, as Dumbledore's reaction to Grindelwald reading it had been curious. Of the thirty-three stories its pages contained, no less than eight of them mentioned powerful wands beyond measure, a very common theme in fairy tales by and for mages. It came as no surprise: as everyday life was filled with bending the laws of nature, few works of magic would to be considered universally outlandish enough to count as only possible in fairy tales. The Dark Lord had a funny feeling about the Tale of the Three Brothers though, as it mentioned not only a wand that fit the description he'd been searching for, but also an invisibility cloak with interestingly similar traits to Harry's…

All the while, the Dementors stayed quiet enough, a good sign that his tactic had worked. In fact, he heard no more reports of their presence anywhere else than where they were supposed to be, not even on the moors. Ideally, the creatures had realised their search would be futile until Voldemort chose to contact them.

In between long nights of research and cordial visits all across Europe - from social calls with Greyback's pack where he witnessed the way a newly bitten wolf was treated with the powdered silver and dittany he'd procured, to lawless trials of the lowest type of Muggles at which he could at last dip his wand in blood again – he saw Harry as little as they'd both feared. Voldemort refused to have the partner he'd proclaimed to be an equal stand cloaked and masked in his shadow, but Harry still had too much to learn to openly accompany him on most trips. It either required a social aptitude that the teen would still need training in by his guardians, or a ruthlessness he both dreaded and hoped Harry would never make his own.

It made the brief hours they did share all the more worthwhile. Having the majority of his life dedicated to gaining power in some form, it was odd to notice how much he could look forward to such mundane, comforting moments as a quiet slumbering with Harry curled up against him. Waking up on one such morning and realising that his schedule was empty of duties for the first time in a fortnight felt rather wonderful.

Yawning, Harry said: ''I never thought it'd be this nice to simply tell you good morning. You usually sneak off before I wake.''

''It is hardly my fault that you sleep even longer than Nagini.''

''Now you are grossly exaggerating.'' With a stretch and an attractive lazy smirk, the teen rolled over to bury himself fully in Voldemort's arms. ''Any important news to share?''

As Voldemort did not take steps he didn't consider important, he recounted every bit of progress. Breakfast and lunch both passed quickly as they were caught up in conversation. ''There has only been one significant activity regarding the Order of the Phoenix so far,'' he spoke when topics were at last running thin late afternoon.

''Oh?''

''Jones showed up in the Auror office to speak to Tonks and Kingsley. I have no doubt she's recounted all that's happened.''

''Thought that'd be a good thing. Them getting up to speed by Jones, who heard our side of the story, is better than leaving them only with McGonagall's speculations. She also contacted them, right?''

''I said significant, not unfavourable. The Aurors loyal to me reported that Tonks and Kingsley are taking their task of finding Sirius Black seriously once again ever since. As they cannot access most of the places Black visits nowadays, it's hardly worth actively halting their progress.''

''Even if they do find Sirius, I'm sure he can handle them,'' Harry shrugged carelessly. ''I'll inform my godfather about it and see what he wants to do. Unless you have specific ideas?''

''No. They carry just as little weight now as when Dumbledore was still in the picture. It isn't as if they could get undeniable proof of my return to bring in front of the Wizengamot. Black may confront them if he so pleases.''

''Good. He's been itching to have something to do again anyways. Claimed that I'm taking away all his fun because I refuse to let him throw me an elaborate birthday party tomorrow. With the state the house was left in after his 'mid-graduation' party for Hermione's and my O.W.L.s, I'm not leaving Sirius in charge of planning such events anymore. The toilet kept spewing glitter for days and the books wouldn't stop chattering until I at last found the counter-curse Sirius refused to give me. because he thought it hilarious. Maybe the only time I've ever been happy that you weren't home to see the chaos.''

It hadn't been a coincidence that he'd not stopped by for even a couple of minutes those days, having been warned in advance by his trustworthy right hand. As much work as cleaning up must have been judging by Harry's complaints, Barty was probably right in his assurances that Harry would rather deal with glitter than having to bury Sirius Black next to his parents.

''A wise decision. I doubt our other guests tomorrow would appreciate his antics. As much as the date of your birth should be celebrated, it unfortunately does coincide with Lughnasadh. Being one of the greater Sabbats and perfectly placed in the middle of the summer holidays, it will be just as large an event as the Ostara Ball, if not more so.''

''Bit of a shame,'' his partner sighed wistfully. ''It's my favourite, in part because it was so closeknit. Even when you invited a couple of your followers last year, we could still celebrate it in the veranda. It's in a completely different location now, isn't it? Barty mentioned a place called southern Scilly?''

''Indeed, we needed a larger space than any of my followers could accommodate, as the guest list has significantly expanded due to new connections I made in the past months. The Isles of Scilly lie miles off Land's End and have a few uninhabited islands to the south that will be perfect to gather. I've left the details to Barty, he's one of the few people I trust enough not to hover over his shoulder all the time.''

''Make sure to tell him that now and then.''

''I'll see about it. So, do your evening plans include an early celebratory dinner anywhere?'' he asked, finally probing as the hours had ticked by without any mention of his partner's mysterious scheming. Surely Harry had not forgotten?

''Ah- no. We obviously wouldn't be able to dine out as ourselves and the image you crafted for 'Noctua' doesn't sound like it would match up with him being seen having obvious dates with a younger guy.'' Harry grimaced. ''I tried to bribe Snape into giving me a batch of Polyjuice, but once I let slip that I wanted an elaborate disguise only to go to a restaurant, he lectured me on how expensive potions shouldn't be wasted on frivolities. Didn't even get the chance to elaborate it being for you as well as he threw the door in my face.''

Greatly irked the hear it, he reassured: ''I'll remind Severus of his place tomorrow.''

''Please don't, he'll just get covertly snarky. I prefer him being impolite to my face.''

As Harry clearly didn't want to reveal any further details, Voldemort occupied himself with watching the other cook as they discussed any details Barty had mentioned surrounding tomorrow's feast. Having a harvest festival on an island consisting of nothing but rocks and grass was an odd choice on the surface. However, it being away from the prying eyes of both the Ministry and Muggles and home only to merfolk who were now on Voldemort's side, it was an ideal place to go back to their roots of gathering under open skies, able to cast magic as desired with only minimal visual wards. One more step forward to his followers accepting the growing role Magic should play in their lives.

As the clock struck six and they were both filled, Harry finally procured something, anticipation jumping across their mental link. It was a set of photos, one showing a stone staircase leading to an old Muggle building that could have been a temple if not for the fact that it was covered in graffiti, and the other a sizeable pond, the water largely covered by patches of algae. The name 'Dyukovskiy Garden,' was neatly written on the white border. Granger's handwriting. ''A garden?'' he incredulously asked.

''That's just the nearest recognisable spot to apparate to. Figured that's be the easiest way to cover the distance. Here, I'm bringing my cloak so we can turn up unseen and walk the rest of the way.'' Harry grabbed a bag that had been lying in the corner and fished out both his invisibility cloak as well as another set of thicker robes and the spare wand Barty had acquired. ''You can apparate with these pictures, right?''

''Once knowing the direction and approximate distance,'' he dryly responded. ''There's a bit more to apparition than wishing to be somewhere else.''

''About 1500 miles southeast. More east than south. I don't want to give too much away, but it's basically at the top left of the Black Sea.''

Quickly skimming his memory for sites of interest around that area, Voldemort came up with quite a few too many to narrow down what Harry had in mind. He hummed noncommittedly and studied the pictures once more, deciding to land a bit to the side of the visible building. Being in view of Muggles wasn't a concern when invisible. Intrigued after this trip having been alluded to for weeks and feeling clearly just how nervous Harry was about whether he'd like it, Voldemort decided to put his partner out of misery and took the cloak to carefully drape it over the both of them. There wasn't enough fabric to fit the both of them comfortably and it could not be re-sized without damaging its intrinsic properties, so Voldemort ensured they were fully covered by holding Harry flush against his chest. His partner appeared to find it a bonus if anything, tightening the embrace.

It was already dark when they arrived. Voldemort gauged by the distance and the stance of the sun that they must have jumped at least two time-zones. Only a single Muggle was in sight, obscenely emptying his bladder against the wall. The previously conquered urge to wipe these stains off the earth came back in full force when met with such a disgusting sight. ''We're not here for murder, you can do that in our own backyard any day,'' Harry whispered, tugging at his sleeve. ''Come, it's in the other direction.''

After a short trek under the cover of darkness using various disillusionment charms - as walking under the cloak turned out to be rather impossible with Voldemort's height – during which they passed stately buildings with an interesting mixture of styles ranging from Orthodox to Brutalist, 'it' turned out to be a hidden entryway out of rough stone, tucked away between buildings and another park. From the entrance, a faint trickle of heavy magic could be felt that made Voldemort long to find out more. Without hesitating, he headed in, finding a tunnel just tall enough so he could walk upright. ''Abandoned mines?'' he guessed, looking at the coarse, hewn walls of limestone and coquina.

''That and natural caverns. We'll have to go in quite a bit further to reach parts unexplored by Muggles recently, though. The ones in this area must be littered a lot, but there's supposedly treasure deep within these catacombs that hasn't been found for almost eighty years, hidden by a rich tradesman.''

''Catacombs?'' he asked, tasting the word. Was the magic he felt linked to death? It was far older than anyone who might have stumbled in here and passed away, although Voldemort could only imagine the casualties that would result from carving out such tunnels. Putting a hand to the ground, he sent out ripples to get a grasp on how large this network was, astonished when thousands of echoes returned, along with a vague, sinister snarling that originated from the depths approximately nine miles north - although how many miles of winding passageways that was, he couldn't begin to estimate.

''It's not actually been used as a burial site, not like the ones in Paris,'' Harry admitted, scratching the back of his neck as they walked on. ''Found that out a bit too late, I'd thought it to be more like those tourist pictures with walls made of skulls and bones Dean showed me after his holiday in France. There's less risk of running into other people as this system is much larger though, and from what I read, there's been enough people who went missing that we'll undoubtedly find enough corpses to create a small army with. I didn't only bring my invisibility cloak for the travelling itself.''

Voldemort stopped studying the primitive drawings he'd noticed on the ceiling. ''Is that right?'' he breathed, excitement doubling at that confession.

Delightfully, Harry replied: ''I've no problem resurrecting those already dead. I'd also like to make up for last time and call the first souls who present themselves. ''We've- err, got a lot of ground to cover though. I'm sure we'll only be able to explore a fraction. There's as many miles of tunnels as we just crossed to get here.''

''Ah, but we are no blind Muggles,'' Voldemort reminded his partner, drawing his wand. ''Nor am I a novice in seeking either treasure or tools.''

XxX

The fresh air was quickly replaced by a staleness one could only find so deep underground. When Hermione had first suggested the Odesa catacombs, Harry had expected them to be similar to the stories his dorm-mate had told of cool-looking yet well-built tunnels that attracted many a tourist. These mines were anything but: dusty, deep and carrying something primal that was hard to name. They sped along fast as Voldemort displayed tremendous feats, unbothered by something trivial as solid stone, changing the paths to his own convenience, bending walls and conjuring stairs to go ever deeper, searching with a peculiar sense of purpose.

They spoke little, no words needing to be exchanged when Harry could very well feel. Instead, he illuminated the path with the tip of the spare wand to study any interesting artefacts they found. Although he'd imagined there to be parts completely untouched, the teen had not realised there would of course be many other entrances than only the one Hermione had found mentioned in a journal she'd dug up from who-knew-where. They were surrounded by poems, slogans and drawings, and even after walking for hours, stumbled across crates with old bottles and campsites with equipment Voldemort told him dated back to the second world war. There were indeed plenty of bones too, but most of them damaged or too incomplete to be useful.

''Blood,'' Voldemort suddenly mentioned, inhaling deeply and pointing at a spot ahead of them. ''Do you smell it?''

Harry did not, and once reaching what apparently caused the scent, it was no wonder that he hadn't. The skeleton was completely clean of flesh, likely decades old. Whatever Voldemort picked up was nothing a regular human would be able to sense.

''This one looks good,'' Harry agreed, rather glad they were stopping for a while. Even if their pause would drain him of magic, the soles of his aching feet were thankful. When his partner prepared to cast spells on the floor, he hurriedly added: ''I'd like to show you how far I've come. You're not the only one who did some research these past weeks.'' Having noticed in the Locket's cave how many technicalities he still hadn't learned about the creation of Inferi, Harry had ensured to come prepared. His wand trembled unpleasantly as he forced it to crack the floor into the geometric shapes necessary for this resurrection to work.

''You might want to use mine,'' Voldemort offered, giving the dark wood a critical look. ''This one holds unicorn hair, not terribly suited to any heavy magic.''

Thankful, Harry took the offer and accepted the yew wand with care. Each time he was permitted to use it, the power it emitted inspired more awe. Harry could use it as well as his own, but its core was doubtlessly older and more experienced, a reflection of its owner.

Having practised with dolls and animal skeletons both, arranging and preparing the bones came far easier than the first time. Once ready, Harry protected himself with the cloak and opened his eyes to the four moons of the cosmos, a sight that never failed to draw attention to the minusculity of his own existence. ''I call upon you, Glory,'' he simultaneously whispered and thundered, reaching out to the small, yellow moon that had crowned him a Necromancer. The steps were familiar, words and movements having become as much of a habitual rite as Pure-blood dinner etiquette. Oddly shaped chains bound his arms before speeding off to find the first souls unfortunate enough to be nearby. Harry captured one in his hands and returned to the mortal plane, breathing heavily as he forced the silver drop to occupy the body he'd chosen for it. It trashed briefly before he finished the spells to bind it to his will.

''Well done,'' Voldemort breathed in his ear, infinitely gratified. ''The first of many, I hope. You did promise me an army.''

Tired but glad for the praise, Harry pushed on, experimenting a bit with the commands he could give the walking corpse. Not wanting to disrupt the dead without a purpose nor having need of Inferi, the teen figured he might dispel the souls once the both of them were ready to go home, depositing the bones near one of the entrances for the local Muggles to find and identify, or at the very least properly bury them.

Their army indeed grew rapidly, and Harry had a feeling that the Dark Lord was specifically digging for corpses now instead of hunting down the golden statue that was rumoured to be hidden in the catacomb's depths. ''You forgot to give my wand back,'' he mentioned after adding number twelve to the group of Inferi, a mismatch of bare skeletons and corpses in various states of decay that were honestly starting to emit a less than pleasant odour.

''I did not forget,'' Voldemort's voice floated just out of reach. ''This has been quite the entertaining experience so far, but it is starting to get repetitive. I'd like to test something.''

Those words were usually not followed by anything pleasant for Harry, but Voldemort chuckled darkly as the teen's anxiety spiked. ''It does not involve your mutilation. Now, run.''

''What?'' Harry asked in confusion.

''Run.''

If Voldemort thought he was going to blindly follow orders, the man had another thing coming. ''Not without light I won't. Do you want me to bash my head in?''

~Do you not trust me? Have I ever let you down?~

Begrudgingly, Harry turned in the direction he'd seen the narrow tunnel continue before the light had gone out, as he could not list any moment from the top of his head where Voldemort had broken his trust. Been a manipulative arse and far too demanding, yes, but the Dark Lord had never been outright deceitful or harmed Harry without apparent reason. Taking a deep breath, he dug painful heels into the gravel and sprinted away, still fully expecting to be knocked unconscious from smacking into a low ceiling or tripping over boulders.

Those fears were not realised. The darkness stretched on endlessly, but even without light, Harry could still see in the strangest manner. Having physical sight cut off, all other senses were on high alert, including the sixth one that was tuned in specifically to each and every one of his partner's emotions. Voldemort was right behind him, effortlessly keeping up and effectively their eyes in a way not experienced before – Harry dodged obstacles purely by focusing on when a jolt of concern jumped through their mental link and made decisions to go left or right based off his partner's unspoken preference at each junction. Fatigue was forgotten as it turned into a chase, cold fingers now and then teasingly touching the back of his neck as he ran. It was a thrill to be hunted deep beneath the earth. Harry vaguely recalled a story told in elementary school, of a beast confined in a labyrinth…

Forced to slow down eventually when running out of breath, Harry let himself be caught, laughing ecstatically due to the excess adrenaline in his veins. ''That was wonderful,'' he panted loudly. Voldemort returned the sentiment wordlessly, conveying his hungering delight by scraping sharp teeth over Harry's exposed neck and roughly pushed him against the nearest wall. Stimulated by the whirling sensations that assaulted his mind as their link was wide open, Harry fervently returned the ministrations. He felt alive and needy, unbothered by their teeth clashing in heated kisses or the cold of the caves hitting bare skin where his robes were sliced open by sharp nails.

''Voldemort,'' he groaned, realising this was quickly escalating. ''You're- ah – we shouldn't-''

''Should we not?'' came a silky reply. ''Or do you not wish me to?''

''That- of course I want you, that doesn't mean-'' Abruptly, Harry shut up. How long had they been down here?

Teasing breath tickled his ear before the shell got nipped at suggestively. Persistent hands grabbed his waist and held Harry still as thin hips were firmly rolled against his. ~Happy sweet sixteen, darling. And thank you for speeding it up by two full hours by crossing borders. A perfect Slytherin method of cheating that I will allow.~

Harry's mind short-circuited, and only the silence being broken by echoing footsteps made his hands, which had already followed the itch to run across the smooth skin of Voldemort's arms into the wide sleeves, halt.

''Leave us,'' Voldemort commanded as the group of Inferi caught up to them, only to instantly turn around, visible to Harry only by the glowing orbs that appeared and disappeared again.

''For a moment I thought we were going to expose ourselves to a group of Muggle explorers,'' he uttered with a jittery laugh.

''No-one will disturb us here'' the man promised, already returning to lap at every bit of skin he could reach.

Harry vaguely remembered having gone through the whole trouble of renting out a literal castle for the both of them with very comfortable beds and automatic heating, having made the most of Sirius' claims of goblins not caring whether they dealt with criminals as long as gold flowed. That seemed irrelevant now the one he'd desired for so long covered him and shredded his robes until Harry was laid bare and shivering.

His first time being in the bowels of the earth with only a vertical bed of stone digging into his back came as a surprise that Harry did not mind nearly as much as was maybe appropriate. There'd been some truth to the first long letter he'd received from Voldemort: Harry did have a penchant for enjoying the cold, rough and dangerous. The biting air matched his partner's skin well enough that neither was more uncomfortable than the other.

''Touch me,'' he urgently pleaded. ''Either touch me or let me touch you.''

''How about both?'' Fabric rustled as the Dark Lord shed his robes, and Harry wasn't sure whether to bless or curse the darkness. Calling for light felt inappropriate, and when his right hand was grabbed and pressed directly against hard flesh, he was glad for deciding against it, just knowing he'd have died of mortification. As it was, he could concentrate on the feel of it, on the keen noises that fell from Voldemort's lips as they moved and on the fingers that curled against Harry's own exposed tender skin.

Collapsing stone rumbled in the distance as their magic intwined as much as their bodies did and lashed out far and wide. Harry couldn't care less, moving with the intense flow of caresses and pinches. Long fingers found spots deep within that he'd not known existed, and his willing body was taken apart long before Voldemort wordlessly turned him around to breach Harry from behind. The sobs drawn from their lips had nothing to do with pain.

Their connection blurred, making it impossible to figure out where one ended and the other began. Harry was both aware of chilled stone chafing his sensitive front and the mind-numbing heat of his own insides enclosing around Voldemort with each feverish thrust. Their world consisted only of this single sensation, chasing pleasure with insatiable speed.

Nails dragged sharp trails across Harry's lower stomach. ''I need-'' Voldemort growled, rhythm slipping as the pace grew frantic.

~Then give in.~

Caging Harry in tightly with hard, bony arms, his partner buried himself deeper than before, stuttering breath and flooding seed accompanied by the most wonderful blinding light. Dizzy, Harry let himself drop against the wall as Voldemort's grip loosened, noticing a moment too late that it too was now covered in fluids. Unable to muster up enough energy to mind it, he slid down to his knees as he came down from the rush, their senses separating enough to feel the burning he was left with.

Carefully turning around to not make it worse und realising that Voldemort was still standing, he hesitantly asked: ''Should I- err…'' he made a vague gesture that he hoped was visible to the other.

''Oh?'' the Dark Lord chuckled, a hand finding its way into Harry's hair to jerk his head closer. ''I'd not expected you to.''

''I do know what you like,'' Harry revealed before he could think to filter his mouth.

A few seconds in which only his furiously beating heart could be heard passed. Then: ''Do you, now? And whom might you have talked to, to know my… preferences?''

Harry's bottom was not the only part of his body that was burning now as he was sure his cheeks had flared up with shame. ''Your ex was rather thorough in his written descriptions,'' he confessed. ''It was… well… educational. Do you… mind?'' he stammered.

A trickle of deep self-satisfaction caught Harry off guard nearly as much as the hand that grabbed his chin and pried his mouth open to take him up on the offered service. The taste of salt and bitterness wasn't as bad as he'd feared. ''Did you pleasure yourself to those descriptions?'' Voldemort wickedly demanded to know, voice raspy with desire. ''Did you imagine yourself in his stead? Have I been the only one who played a role in your budding fantasies?''

Breath hitching, Harry used the excuse of having a full mouth to only reply with a slight nod.

''Perfect,'' the man all but purred, another slick wave following the one Harry had just cleaned up. ''You're so beautiful. I'll have to be careful not to get too used to the sight of having you on your knees in front of me.''

''Stop it,'' Harry moaned, finally getting too embarrassed to deal with more suggestive comments.

Voldemort's amusement didn't lessen, although he thankfully fell silent and withdrew. The man pulled Harry to his feet and gathered the teen in his arms, giving a deep kiss to taste himself. ''The night is young still… we've barely started,'' he hinted. ''Although we should perhaps retreat from these catacombs for the day. The gold won't run away and you seem to be in no shape to tackle a malevolent spirit tonight.''

''A what?''

''The dark spirit that guards this treasure,'' Voldemort explained as if talking about the weather. ''I noticed it at the entrance already, and it's only about half a mile away now. Doesn't appear happy about our demolishing of this place, going by its wailing. I'd wanted to defeat this thing and claim the treasure before devouring you but- we all get carried away sometimes. What is certain is that no Muggle stands a chance of getting there before we do. Not without getting torn to shreds.''

''Are you saying that we had sex while an evil spirit was practically lurking around the corner?'' he questioned in disbelief.

''I did promise no-one would disturb us. I've thrown it off with illusions and disturbance wards. Before we visit once more, I wish to research what it could be exactly. There's quite a few spirits that dwell in these regions and all have different weaknesses.'' A cloak was draped across Harry's shoulders. From the sudden sound of silk rubbing against silk, Voldemort conjured his own robes again too. ''I doubt you can walk much further like this. Better make the most of the night in other ways, then.''

Well, he did spend a fortunate on a castle, might as well make use of it. Too tired to argue, Harry agreed, leaning heavily on his partner. Who knew, once they returned to this place and snagged the golden ship, Voldemort might keep the original order of his plans in mind. By that time, Harry had hopefully found a few healing spells for internal injuries.

He took grateful gulps of fresh air once above ground again, a few minutes later than could have been the case if he'd not insisted on gathering the Inferi and releasing their souls. Voldemort thought it a waste of perfectly good soldiers and risky to give the Muggles such a miracle, so they'd reached a compromise of leaving the soulless bodies in the deep tunnels from which they apparated to the spot in the next photo Harry showed his partner. He didn't bother too much with secrecy anymore this time around and straight up gave the address, sighing in relief when about ten minutes later, he could wash the grime and dust off his aching body with hot water in their private hotel. To no-one's surprise, Voldemort joined soon, kissing his way down Harry's spine.

He'd not said a word too much when promising the night would be worth the wait.

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AN: *Voldemort and Harry's response to their activities making the foundations of half a city collapse: we better continue this elsewhere* :3

I know this has been a very, very long time coming, so I hoped you enjoyed it as much as our dear couple did. I tried to be as explicit as possible while still keeping it in the M instead of E/M+ rating as I don't feel like changing it. This will certainly not be the only smutty scene, but I won't put a very heavy focus on it as more than something that now plays a role in their relationship.
(Also no, this wasn't Voldemort's only birthday gift to Harry in case anyone was wondering, but I thought this was a good point to give them their privacy, so any other gifts will be mentioned later)

Next up will be some outside perspectives again, Weasleys to be specific. Lots of Weasleys to be even more specific.

Some (and with that I mean a lot of) comments on the O. W. L. s:
- Harry originally received an E in Charms, Transfiguration and Potions. Due to all the extra tutoring he received from Voldemort and Snape, it would be realistic for him to receive an O in these here.
- The only reason why Harry originally received an A in Astronomy was because he was distracted for a large part of the exam by Umbridge firing Hagrid and McGonagall getting shot with stunners on the grounds. He didn't even try for the last 20 minutes and hurriedly finished his star chart with half an eye. So, even though Voldemort didn't focus on the subject, I believe Harry would have received a higher grade in an uninterrupted exam
- Harry's original History fail is just plain unfair as he fainted. We can't really say what he'd have gotten otherwise in canon, but McGonagall wasn't worried enough about the subject during her career advice to even mention it so it must have been at least an Acceptable. Featuring in how enthusiastic Voldemort is about teaching this subject, an E seemed likely enough to me for this story.
- I did not change his grades in Herbology, Care or Divination, because Harry neither devoted extra attention to those courses, nor did he slack off.
- We don't know much about Draco's O.W.L.s other than that he received an O in Potions, at least an E in Transfiguration and pass in Charms (exact requirement for NEW unknown). Some people online theorised his grades must be excellent as he became a Prefect, but so did Ron who didn't get higher than an E in any subject, plus Snape always favoured Draco. How much academic results are factored in when selecting Prefects isn't clear. What we do know is that, going off the few classes Draco is canonically shown in, he's bad at caring for creatures and plants and isn't great with practical Defence either (although it improved in this story due to being part of the D. A.) So, I got his grades as follows: Arithmancy A, Astronomy O, Care of Magical Creatures A, Charms O, DADA E, Herbology A, History of Magic E, Potions O, Transfiguration O (so 4 O's, 2 E's and 3 A's).