Chapter 9

Is it Love?

"And you're sure you're not gonna fuck this up and kill me, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I mean, with magic, nothing is ever certain."

Emily lifted her unclothed torso from the bed and turned to glare at him. "Are you serious? Just because I have a horcrux doesn't mean I'm happy to take risks, Harry. Hell, I don't even know what would happen to me if I died."

Harry laughed. "Really? You made a horcrux with no idea what it would do to you when you died?" Pressing down gently on her back, Harry tried to soothe her temper. "Are you always so impulsive?"

Emily settled back onto the bed, her bare back exposed to his gaze. Turning her head to the side, she spoke, "Not like the book I read had much in the way of information. I had to worm most of what I know now out of Professor Slughorn."

Gently, Harry straddled her waist. Laying his wand to the side of her body, he slowly began to massage her back. He had some time before he needed to get to work. "If you were to die, your soul would be separated from your body, violently. Your body would be destroyed, and your soul would exist as a wraith, a thing neither living nor dead. You would have to get someone to create a vessel for you, and then afterwards there is a special ritual that would return you to a new body."

Emily scoffed. "How in the hell does goody-little-two-shoes, Harry Gaunt, know about the intricacies of horcruxes."

Leaning down to kiss her lips, Harry whispered, "Even good little boys learn the important lessons." Raising himself back up, Harry took note of the swirling lines beginning to form on her back. "The main thing you need to know Emily, is that I can fix you up, should the worst thing happen. I know how to create a temporary vessel and I know the ritual to restore your body."

"And what if something happens to you? Then I'll be screwed with no one to help me." Emily complained as Harry picked up his wand and slowly began drawing the magic out of Emily's body.

Harry laughed again. "Do you really think a person exists that can take you and me out, Emily?"

"No," Emily grumbled. "But I still think its pretty important information for me to know."

Sighing, Harry figured he might as well tell her. "You could act like a parasite and inhabit a host. That's what most people with horcruxes do. Or you could create a homunculus."

"A fucking what?" She sounded perplexed, and Harry snicked.

"An artificial body. The easiest being digging up a fresh corpse and pumping unicorn blood through its veins. Since unicorn blood needs to fully circulate in the body, the body of a deceased child is generally used."

"Ow." Emily groaned when Harry tugged at the magic in her body a bit too forcefully. "That sounds horrifying. A baby corpse? What other ways are there?"

Harry apologized quickly for hurting her. "Sorry." Focusing on her question he shrugged before realizing that she couldn't see him too well from his position. "I'm sure there are lots of other ways, but I only know of one other. It requires using various magical woods, stitched together with acromantula silk and unicorn hair. The wooden vessel then needs to be soaked in a potion made of phoenix tears, nundu hairs and lethifold skin. It creates a hard, brittle but serviceable vessel for a wraith. It needs to be handled with extreme care."

Emily nodded. "Then let's start gathering those materials immediately."

Harry paused in his work, approximately halfway finished with the process. "Does the idea of using the corpse of a dead child really repulse you?" This was a surprising show of humanity from the girl that he had not expected.

"Well obviously. It's fucking gross. I don't want my soul to be stuffed in a corpse."

"Ah, I see." Well, it wasn't as much of a show of sympathy as it was a show of sanitation, but at least she didn't like the idea. He'd take the small victories where they came.

"When you're done pulling the damn Trace out of me, go back to the massage. I really liked that." There wasn't a blatant change in her tone, but Harry did detect a slight pleading. Honestly, he was rather glad that the macabre subject matter had distracted her from the second piece of information, creating a new body.

"I get the feeling that you just like my hands on you in general." It would only be a couple minutes longer, now. The Maledict draught's duration was almost half expired, but Harry only had a couple foreign strands of magic left. He finished quickly, but carefully.

Once the task was done, Harry once again set his wand down to the side of her. Resuming the massage, he'd previously started he was happy to hear her moan in contentment. Minutes later, Harry watched as Emily reached down to grab his wand and hold it in front of her face.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Is my new wand and your wand identical?" To his credit, Harry didn't allow his ministrations to falter.

Continuing the massage, he answered simply, "Yes."

"Like... identical, identical?

He laughed. "Depends on your definition, but yes, in accordance with most definitions, they are one and the same."

"How?"

Leaning down to her, he whispered in her ear. "Trade secret."

She huffed in disappointment. "You keep too many secrets from me."

"I keep secrets from everyone, Emily. You know me better than anyone else in the world, though. I hope that's enough."

She shifted, and he lifted his hips enough so she could flip her body to face him. She looked at him expectantly, "I didn't say to stop, did I?"

Harry laughed again, deciding to do his best to massage her front and not make things too... naughty. He had no idea if he'd succeed or not.

Emily took a shaky breath as his hand resumed their journey over her skin. "None of your secrets are going to separate us, are they?"

Harry pondered how to answer her question. Technically speaking no, none of his secrets would force the two apart. He supposed if the ministry found out he was a time traveler, there might some issues, but by now, if no one had come around asking questions, he figured he was in the clear.

"Certainly not by my choice, no. I suppose you might want to leave me if you knew one or two specific ones." Briefly, he considered her reaction to knowing that in his time, there was a prophecy that foretold either of their deaths at the hands of the other. Perhaps the knowledge that she pursued him relentlessly to kill him and had eventually succeeded. He still remembered the fire licking his skin, tearing him apart.

Harry's hands ghosted over her peaks, and she took a deep breath. "Mmmm. Those secrets... never tell me those. Promise?"

Leaning down to kiss her deeply, he whispered, "I promise."

The first thing Emily Riddle did every day when she woke up was check the space beside her on the bed. Every morning since Harry's day in Britain, Harry was always there. He might be reading or writing or otherwise busy with some random task, but he never failed to be the first thing she saw in the morning. Emily privately wondered if the feeling that bloomed in her chest each time she laid her eyes on him was love.

Love was something she heard about often. It was a hot topic at school, with both girls and boys crooning over one another. In the past, Emily had despised such talk, thinking it to be nothing more than vapid foolishness. How was it possible for people to put someone else before themselves? How could someone cherish another person more than their own life? It was all lies that people told themselves. Lies to convince themselves that they were capable of the impossible.

But now, Emily had found someone who seemed to fit the description she'd always heard about, and he seemed to cherish her even more. Looking to the man beside her, she was surprised to find him still asleep. It was rare that she was awake before him. Ever since Emily had moved into Harry's bedroom, he suddenly became a deep sleeper. She wasn't sure if it was because he could truly relax near her, or if she simply wore him out every night. If she were a betting girl, it would be the latter.

Each of Emily's mornings followed a routine. Wake up. Kiss Harry. Check on Harry. Kiss Harry again. Tell Harry she was hungry. Kiss him while he cooked. Eat whatever Harry cooked for her. Then they would go do something for the day. Mostly, it was dueling. Sometimes they went shopping, or other times, took a short walk. One time, Harry took her out for his 'errands' and the two of them portkeyed over to Britain and snuck into Hogwarts. Emily was allowed an entire day to study the Room of Requirement. Harry had told her it was a one-time thing though. They couldn't afford to have her magical signature popping up too much in Britain. Not until Harry spoke with the headmaster and found out more regarding the status of the Myrtle Warren investigation. She doubted his words, certain that Harry was in constant contact with either Dumbledore or Dippet. Harry received an owl every few days, and Emily couldn't understand who else it would be. He never shared the contents with her, and other than her first time asking about it, Harry didn't offer her much to go on.

"Who's that from?"

Harry shrugged, "Just an old colleague."

Harry was confident when he told her that she'd be returning to Hogwarts for her sixth year, though. She asked him why he was so certain, but all he replied with was that he had the required leverage to get her back in. When she pressed him for more, he told her his lips were sealed. And when she asked why, he told her that she wouldn't be happy with his decision.

Rather than risking an argument (over, of all things, something like another potential argument), Emily let it slide. If Harry thought it would cause friction, then she was happy to let it be. Emily found herself happy to do things for Harry that she'd never expected to do before. It was completely new to her, which was why, as she checked on Harry this morning, she wondered if she was really in love.

Emily frowned. He'd gotten rid of her gift again last night. Sighing softly, Emily quietly made her way out of the room. He would do it every time, normally when he would go to clean himself up. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

When Emily marked Harry the first time, she cursed the bite with her magic so the scar would be permanent. It was, possibly, an act of jealousy. Of all the scars he paraded about, all the signs of pain that he'd endured, none were hers. It was the most reasonable assumption that her attempt put her own mark on him was born of envy.

Emily considered herself an expert on scarring people. Few people escaped an altercation with her unmarred. But Harry deserved something special, something intimate. So, while there were certainly others with her love marks walking around, no one, save Harry, wore one caused by Emily's body. Specifically, her teeth.

Emily loved to spill blood. Though, that was, largely, where her fascination with the liquid started and ended. As she began losing herself in her passion with Harry that first night, she felt that need to hurt him. But with that desire, combined with their activity, she knew a simple cut wouldn't suffice. She needed to tear into him in the most animalistic way. So, she begged for the permission to do so. If he had refused her, she doubted things would have ended as perfect as they had. But when she buried her face into his neck, she felt a certain freedom with him. As though he wouldn't begrudge any actions she took with him. With barely a moment to even think about her next action, she bit down as hard as she could on his upper shoulder.

Pumping her magic into the wound was something she did almost unconsciously. Something that she really only noticed she was doing midway through the act. Even as her fingers were violently picking up the pace, Emily was in tune to the way he was reacting to her. The way he tensed up, the sharp intake of air he made and the heavy release of it. It was almost subliminal, as though her brain was on autopilot. All while she slowly poured her dark intentions into his body to create a mark that would never fade.

But Harry didn't comment on her gift. And the followings one she gave him; he ended up getting rid of them. Of course, she didn't imbue those with her magic. If she covered his body with such marks, they would simply cheapen the others, especially the first one. And the first one was an act that she took the utmost pride in. Though, to be completely honest, she didn't even know if she'd be capable of marking him a second time, considering their normal routine.

That first night between them was special, certainly, but also different. Harry allowed her to take and take. The following night, Harry had made Emily into a woman. He started to take from her too. And each night after was a constant back and forth struggle for dominance. It was delicious. It was intense. And it was no place to spare focus for cursing his skin. To do so, she'd find herself being shoved into the mattress as he took over. And she much more preferred the times when she was the one shoving him into the mattress.

Power dynamics of their bedroom activities aside, Harry didn't seem to appreciate her gifts. Though that was par for the course. None of lovers in the past liked her gifts either. They all screamed and struggled and cried each and every time her wand touched their skin. Harry, though, he took it in stride. He even seemed to enjoy each time her mouth latched on to him. Even the one time she'd bitten him so hard that the corresponding arm gave out and he fell on top of her, the speed of his thrusts only increased.

Emily wasn't an idiot, of course. It was possible that Harry just didn't like to be in pain. Didn't most people avoid the feeling, after all? Emily herself was averse to the feeling. But Emily knew that if Harry told her he wanted her in pain, she'd feel it for him. Why did Harry not want to fulfill that desire for her? Maybe she needed to voice it out loud, though she doubted he was unaware.

As Emily prepared herself a cup of tea, she sighed. "Perhaps I just don't understand this love thing." It was a loaded statement. She knew she didn't understand what she was feeling. She knew that she barely could comprehend a small fraction of the emotions running rampart in her chest.

Were they wonderful and pleasurable? Yes. Did they alter her very existence? Most certainly. Did they make her want to change herself, to be a woman worthy of Harry? Fervently. Did that scare her to the depths of her mutilated soul? Yes, in a way that nothing ever had. Even her desire to be the perfect student in her third year paled in comparison to what she felt now.

Emily knew that her relationship with Harry progressed to its level due to sheer dumb luck. As she had been taunting him with the method he'd killed someone, she noticed that he seemed to... simply give up. One moment, he was fighting, and the next, he was just leaning against her as she mocked him while trying to find a way to tempt him. He'd already explained his guilt to her, explained why he couldn't touch her. But somehow, her spontaneity urged her to offer him something that no one could. Forgiveness.

Something that should have been weak platitudes from her lips was something he embraced fully. As if there was something special about her forgiveness that could cleanse the filth from his heart. The first kiss he gave her was filled with desperation, as though she was an oasis of water and he, a man dying of thirst in the desert.

But that desperation evaporated just like everything else under burning light of the sun. He still kissed her deeply, but he was no longer seeking something from her. It wasn't until he slowly lowered them to the floor that she began to suspect what he was doing. And it wasn't until she ground her hips against him several times that she became sure.

He wanted her in that moment. She could feel that part of him. But he made no movement to take her. And she was painfully ready for him to do so. But he made no moves to ravish her, only kissing her. Only running his hands up and done her body, lighting her nerves on fire. That was not a night for sex to Harry. To him, it was a night for worship. He bathed himself in the forgiveness that she had no right to give him.

It was arrogance that I thought I could offer Harry absolution, and it was his desperation that clung to it with fervor.

Both she and Harry had been secluded in their abandoned muggle home for almost seven weeks now. The was only just over a month left before Harry wanted them to relocate. To get away from Grindlewald, supposedly. A man most eager to speak with her. Emily wouldn't lie and claim to have no interest in that conversation. Thoughts of what it would entail entered her mind almost every day. But Harry made it very clear that he despised Gellert Grindlewald. Which meant that Emily would sooner kill the dark wizard than jeopardize her relationship over a second meeting with him.

Emily looked out of the kitchen's window to gaze at the sunrise. She had woken abnormally early. There were few clouds in the sky to hide the sun's light.

"I wonder what our next move will be." She murmured to herself.

Harry seemed content to spend most of his days either dueling with her or going back to Britain to sneak into Hogwarts. The single time that she'd gone with him, she noticed he was removing things from the Room of Requirement. Often times it was jewelry. There always seemed to be plenty of it. A lot of it was old too. Harry also picked up other trinkets both large and small. The largest that she'd seen was an original Oakshaft 79, the first broomstick to ever be mass produced. When Emily asked him what he'd do with it, Harry simply said he'd sell it.

Harry brought everything he took from the room back with them to France. Every Sunday, he'd tell her he'd be home by dinner and leave, taking what he'd collected that week and coming back late at night, empty-handed. Emily reminded him time and time again, that it was his desire for them to keep a low profile, but he simply told her he was being careful.

Emily believed he'd found some sort of underground criminal auction house. Something kept secret from the Nazi officials and the Vollstrecker. Or perhaps it was even run by the Nazi's, as a way to fence their 'liberated' goods. Emily asked him one night how much money he made, but his reply was short and completely useless.

"Enough."

Emily's curiosity wasn't too strong, however. Both she and Harry had access to the Gringotts vault, seeing as they both, according to Harry, had a wand and the family ring. Emily was still pondering on how he'd managed that one. While it was possible for two wands to have a very similar signature, if they had the same wood, size, and core, even cores from the same beast had small differences. She knew that unicorn hairs were individually treated in a potion so that each wand had a more varied signature. Dragon heartstrings were already very different. And each one of a phoenix's feathers could contain vastly different amounts of magic. Considering that their cores were phoenix feathers, Emily was stumped.

As for the second family ring, it was not uncommon for a second family ring to be commissioned by old noble families for the direct successor. So that one, she didn't question. But the ring Harry gave her was not new. It was as old as the one Morfin had, and it had that crack down the stone. Emily looked down as she turned the ring over and over on her fingers. So many mysteries... so many-

"Stop that."

Emily jumped at Harry's voice. She hadn't even heard him enter the room. Craning her neck to look behind her to the doorway, she noticed that he was staring at her hand. Precisely the ring she had just been turning over and over.

"Why?"

"It's an old magical artifact. You shouldn't fiddle with it."

Emily looked at him shrewdly. "You're lying to me. Did you charm this ring or something? Perhaps it's some sort of portkey?"

Harry offered her nothing more than a shrug. "It summons the dead. Not really something you'd want."

She scoffed at him. "Fine then. Keep your secrets to yourself."

Emily got up, and prepared Harry a cup of tea as he went about the kitchen to make breakfast. Within half an hour, Emily was patting her stomach as she leaned back in her chair.

"Your mother must have had a house elf in her ancestry. That was divine."

Harry smirked. "My mother certainly had... unpleasant family, but no elves. If there were elves, I'd wager my relatives would have been far more chipper. They are long gone now, regardless."

Nodding her head in agreement, Emily looked out the window, reminiscing. "Purebloods can be arseholes. Having lived with six of them in a dormitory for five years, I can understand what you mean."

Silence reigned over them for a short time. Eventually Emily snapped herself out of it and looked at Harry, only to find him staring at her. "What? Bug on my face?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm just... Are you happy, Emily?" The last sentence came out in a rush.

While a part of her wished to breakdown the question, to understand what he was searching for, Emily had long since decided to trust Harry. So, she answered him, "As happy as I've ever been, I think. I don't have to go back to that awful orphanage. Which is a real silver lining, if I must say. I'm with you, I'm in love and I c-"

She saw the look on his face, and it stopped her in her tracks. He looked unsettled. "Does that unnerve you, Harry? That I love you? Or, rather, that I'm in love with you?"

Emily watched as Harry drew lines on the table with his finger. Not really looking at her. "Unnerve me? Maybe. I don't really know. I certainly never expected you to say it out loud."

Thinking that now was the best time, Emily asked him. "And? Do you l- No..." Pausing, she searched for the right question to ask him. "What do you feel for me, Harry? Explicitly."

Harry gave a soft chuckle. "That's the million-galleon question, isn't it. Obviously, I care for you. I like your company. You're smart, beautiful and talented. I would do anything to keep you safe. If you had asked me if I loved you, that would have been simple. I do. But what do I feel for you..."

Harry picked up his now barely steaming mug and carried it to the counter, only to lean against it and stare at her. He did so for several seconds, before answering.

"I can see us together for the rest of our lives. I can see myself trying to make you happy. But I can see myself failing. I think that's what really scares me. That one day, you're going to need or want something that I can't provide you."

Emily nodded in understanding. "You're talking about the parts of me you don't like. Am I right?"

Harry shrugged. "You're not wrong, I guess. I'm not a fan of your wild temper. Not that we've seen it in a while." Harry sighed, as though he was mentally counting the parts of her that he'd rather she not have. "Nor am I a fan of your love of inflicting pain. But I accept it, to a degree. I won't say a word, no matter how hard you bite me." He paused to flash her a bright smile. "The pain is fleeting, and I can patch it up right after."

Shuffling her feet awkwardly, Emily asked, "Are you disgusting by the fact that I still want to hurt you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I can't be disgusted by something I truly understand. And I really do understand that part of you now. I know that to you, inflicting pain is like... communication. Therapeutic, almost. It's something you do to release your emotions. When you did it to others in the past, I know you were venting your anger and hostility. When it comes to me, I know you're expressing what you feel when we're together." Pausing to give her what she could only describe as a coy smile, he finished voicing his thoughts. "Anyway, to be honest, a part of me enjoys it when you bite me. And another part of me thinks that if you keep doing it, one day you may not need to anymore."

"And if that day never comes?"

Pulling himself from the counter, Harry walked to stand right in front of the chair she sat in. Leaning down he kissed her forehead. "Then keep doing what you need to. I'm happy that I can give you that."