Hope
As Harry awoke the next morning, the remnants of the previous night's encounter immediately came crashing down, leaving him unsettled. Everything around him, though familiar, now seemed imbued with an air of strangeness, a juxtaposition of what was and what was still yet to come, heightening his sense of unease. His gaze drifted to the window, where the dawn's light painted the sky in hues of magenta, orange, and yellow. Despite the beauty of the spectacle, Harry couldn't shake the lingering feeling that once again, everything had changed. Despite just waking from sleep, he already felt exhausted.
As he stared blankly out the window, his eyes narrowed as he noticed something. Throwing off his sheets, he leaped from his bed and rushed to the window. Previously, it had been an immovable fixture, making his rather large room feel confining, like a cage. But now, he noticed a change—a window latch. It must have appeared overnight, a small addition that he wasn't sure what to make of.
With a sense of excitement, he pushed against the iron lever, feeling it dip down under his touch. The window, once a mocking barrier, now swung open outward. Harry took a deep breath, savoring the crisp, fresh morning air that greeted him. He stuck his head outside the frame, gazing unrestrained at the impressive panorama of the manor's surrounding landscape.
He had always felt the calmest when outside. He'd often felt restricted and claustrophobic at the Dursleys', either locked in his cupboard or confined to a tiny room. Being allowed access to the Slytherin Manor garden had been a highlight of his time in the manor. As he enjoyed the open window, he thought this might exceed even the enjoyment of the garden. He had no intention to flee through it, but the fact that it was there, that it opened, was significant to the teen, which he was certain his Slytherin master knew. The games and consequences of their most recent negotiations were clearly already afoot. Harry knew he should be terrified, this small but consequential gesture was already incredibly telling that something had changed.
Instead of letting panic consume him, he let his mind relax, staring out at the serene beauty of the manor's vast lands stretching before him. The grass, like a lush green carpet, sloped gently towards the distant forest, creating a picturesque landscape impressive in its own right. The forest, shrouded in a soft morning mist, held an air of mystery that never failed to captivate Harry.
As he took in the morning scenery, his gaze was suddenly drawn to a white blur slicing through the air. It was Hedwig, soaring gracefully into the trees with an elegance that could only be matched by her distinctive white feathers. A smile tugged at his lips; he was still beyond grateful that they had been reunited. A sudden idea occurred to him.
He pulled his head back inside. "Tipsy!" he called.
Tipsy appeared with a pop. "Good morning, Master Harry! How can I assist you?"
"Morning," he greeted, glancing back towards the direction Hedwig had disappeared amidst the trees. "Do you know what happened to my window?"
Tipsy looked at the latch, seeming surprised as well. "Master must have had the manor change your window!" She seemed beyond pleased that Harry had come to her with a question. Harry's heart swelled with affection for the endearing creature. She was truly a light in this manor. He was surprised a creature in the Dark Lord's service could consistently seem so joyful.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry said, making Tipsy beam even more. "Since it now opens, can we bring Hedwig's perch back into my room?" He'd wanted her to stay with him the day she'd been returned, but it hadn't been practical after the first night since there was no easy way for her to get in and out, so she'd moved to the owlery. But now…
"Of course, Master Harry!" Tipsy replied.
Harry smiled, glancing back out the open window; he should not have felt freer, in fact, the opposite given his most recent promise. But in that moment, he was willing to let himself savor the brief reprieve.
S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S
Harry was the first to arrive at breakfast, lost in thought as he stood next to his chair, waiting for the Dark Lord to appear. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. Committed to seeing his promise through, he was still fearful of how the Dark Lord might exploit his newly acquired assurance of complete submission. He hoped this wouldn't negate their previous agreements, that those were still in effect. Yet, he could easily envision the Dark Lord using it against him, claiming a loyal heir wouldn't need negotiated promises if he were truly devoted to his lord.
He glanced towards the side door, intuitively sensing the Dark Lord's arrival before actually seeing him. As always, Voldemort's presence was impressively commanding, combining a graceful glide with the menacing air of a coiled cobra ready to strike. Harry's emerald eyes met Voldemort's crimson gaze.
"Good morning, my apprentice," Voldemort greeted, arriving at his seat. Harry swallowed.
"Good morning, master," he replied.
Voldemort's crimson eyes sparkled with a possessive hunger, the slightest curve of satisfaction playing on his lips. They both sat down, and breakfast materialized before them. Harry, his appetite subdued by the weight of the situation, slowly sipped his coffee. He wasn't sure he could keep anything else down.
"I have meetings at the ministry today," Voldemort announced casually. "I would like you to attend them with me."
Harry glanced up, the simple statement multiplying into dozens of spiraling questions and 'what ifs' in his troubled mind. What would be expected of him? What did the Dark Lord plan to do there? If their previous negotiations were no longer valid, would the Dark Lord do something dreadful in public, expecting Harry to support him? Was this outing a trap? A ploy to use the teen in all the ways Harry had always dreaded the Dark Wizard might if left unrestrained?
"You are overthinking this," Voldemort observed, his voice laced with amused contemplation, clearly noting Harry's escalating panic.
"How could I not?" Harry responded honestly. "I'm not going back on my promise, but it's a lot to process... There are still so many aspects of your plans and goals I don't understand." He shook his head, his thoughts turning inward. He usually tried to avoid showing vulnerability to the Dark Lord, maintaining as brave a facade as possible, one he suspected Voldemort could easily see through. But Harry felt cornered, having effectively tied his own noose. Would he be violating his promise if Voldemort suddenly decided to kill all Muggleborns and Harry objected? Would that give Voldemort the justification to harm Draco or others as a consequence of any future defiance?
The Dark Lord leaned back in his seat, focusing intently on the maturing teen. "Tell me, Harry, you've been here long enough to know me better than most. What do you think of me?" Harry was uncertain how to respond to the question, his mind swirling with numerous, mostly unflattering, thoughts about the Dark Lord. Voldemort appeared to almost sigh, as if anticipating the direction of Harry's thoughts.
"Do you fear me?" Voldemort asked, focusing the teen's thoughts.
Harry paused, genuinely reflecting on the question. He recognized Voldemort's power and the immense influence the wizard held over him. Did he think Voldemort would kill him? No.
Would he face consequences for his actions and decisions when they displeased the Dark Lord? Absolutely. Was Voldemort still a homicidal Dark Lord? That was a bit more complicated; while the overt murders seemed to have decreased, anything that truly enraged Voldemort could still trigger a lethal response, as was evident during the previous night. Did all this amount to fear? A year ago, Harry would have undeniably admitted he feared the Dark Lord. Now, however, it was more complex. Was it possible to exist in such a constant state of fear that it no longer resonated? Or had he simply grown numb to the danger and had his fear been replaced by something else that Harry could not yet identify?
"I've become so accustomed to my situation that I'm no longer sure," Harry admitted at last, knowing that the Dark Lord would sense any lie or evasion. "I've accepted being here; I've chosen this path." He hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. Voldemort nodded slightly, seemingly encouraging him to articulate his half-formed thoughts.
"I feel like I have no idea what you ultimately plan to do with me, or what your final intentions are for our world. I certainly fear what you're capable of, but I don't think I have it in me to fear for myself. It would be too much to bear all the time."
Voldemort continued to observe Harry with an inscrutable expression. The seconds ticked by, filling the air with a tense silence that was not quite uncomfortable, but not entirely comfortable either. Finally, Voldemort broke the silence, his voice low and measured. "Do you believe there is power in fear?"
Harry blinked, processing the question. This was uncharacteristic; the Dark Lord rarely engaged in such reflective discussions. It seemed more like a lesson, but the purpose of it, especially in light of Harry's recent vow of submission, was elusive.
"Before all this, I would have said that fear shouldn't hold much power. It's unstable, can encourage rebellion, and even force people to do drastic things they never would have if left alone," Harry began, then hesitated, shaking his head. It was beyond clear that the entire wizarding world lived in fear of what Voldemort might do. This fear had been the catalyst that had driven Harry to surrender, hoping to temper Voldemort's actions and stop the war.
"I think fear can be effective, to a certain extent," Harry decided. "The fear of what might happen. You haven't started a war yet, but the entire wizarding world has all but decided to forgive the first war out of fear of a future they wish to avoid… so, in that sense, I guess it does grant you a lot of power. But you earned that fear because of how horrific the first war was, how terrifying you were."
"Were?" Voldemort echoed, his eyes narrowing slightly, a clear hint of amusement in his tone.
Harry quickly amended, "Are," suppressing a shiver. He glanced at Voldemort, a figure both terrifying and brilliant. "You're really good at using fear," he acknowledged. "It's hard to imagine anyone else gaining as much power through fear alone as you have." These words seemed to subtly please Voldemort, a faint hint of pride protruding through at the recognition of his unparalleled ability.
"Then what do you think that all means for you?"
Harry reflected on one of his initial encounters in the manor when he had argued against Voldemort's desire to kill innocents, suggesting that such acts would only incite rebellion. He had claimed that Voldemort could attain his aims without needless bloodshed. Harry remembered that the Dark Lord had seemed almost amused, claiming he'd enjoy disproving Harry's naïve views. Yet, he had seemingly acquiesced to Harry's negotiation for restraint.
Now that Harry was getting to know the Dark Lord better, understanding the depth of his planning and genius, he realized Voldemort would never have agreed to anything he hadn't already thought through. Could it be that Voldemort had always planned to conduct this battle covertly, and Harry's negotiated obedience had simply aligned with his strategy? If so, Voldemort's plan was effective; he had attained his goals through fear, so far avoiding open conflict. Everyone, from Harry to the Wizengamot, was yielding, perceiving the Dark Lord as too formidable, fearing that outright resistance would only lead to catastrophic devastation.
Could it be that, in the wake of Harry's latest vow, Voldemort was subtly indicating that a surge in violence wasn't necessary? That he had already instilled sufficient fear to achieve his goals without further bloodshed? That his original plans remained unchanged?
"Our recent agreement, my complete submission, what does it change?" Harry ventured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What do you want it to change?" Voldemort countered. This response shouldn't have surprised Harry; the Dark Lord had posed this question each time Harry had offered deeper allegiance. When Harry agreed to become an apprentice to save Moony, Voldemort allowed a then powerless Harry to negotiate terms. When Harry chose to return from Dumbledore's side, he was granted more influence in their dealings. And now, having fully pledged his obedience, striving to meet the expectations of a Dark Lord's apprentice and Lord Slytherin's heir, Harry faced a new potential dynamic that once again he was given the power to effect.
Harry grappled with what to request. He knew that proposing to keep Muggle-borns with their parents was off-limits, a demand that would likely enrage Voldemort. And yet, this moment felt different; it wasn't about listing specific demands but rather about defining how he hoped to fulfill his promised role as an obedient apprentice and heir.
What, then, could he ask for? His friends' safety was already assured, and Voldemort had agreed to spare innocents and children. What else could he want that would actually be considered?
Reflecting on their conversation, Harry recognized that Voldemort relied heavily on fear, threats, and a willingness to escalate to war to exert control. Harry didn't want his life to follow in those footsteps, to himself become a harbinger of death and torture every time he was tasked by the Dark Lord. Could he serve Voldemort while remaining true to his own principles? He was shocked to realize that he had managed to do so in many ways already.
"Would you allow me to choose how I'm obedient?" Harry asked.
The Dark Lord looked at him, considering. "In what ways?" he inquired.
Harry took a breath. "You and I both know that we are very different wizards, but you've taught me to be powerful, to be effective. And I think I understand what you will or won't tolerate. Where you have power in fear, I have my own influence; it's in hope. The wizarding world believes I can somehow help them. If you tell me what you desire and what your end goal is, then I ask that you give me the freedom to achieve it in my own way. As I did with reopening the school, I was able to support you, but in a way that I believed in. You and I came to an agreement on what you were willing to allow, and my confidence that the children would not be harmed in that negotiation helped to convince Minister Bones as well. I never had to threaten her, I was able to give her hope that they would be safe, hope that I truly believed in because I understood what your ultimate goal was."
The more Harry spoke, the more right it felt. He wanted the Dark Lord to agree, but was forcing himself not to become too optimistic, not to believe he might actually have this type of freedom granted. He was under no illusions that he would escape advocating for things, doing things, he did not believe in, but at least this way, he might have some freedom to make it better for others while still being obedient.
Voldemort observed Harry intently, a calculating gleam in his eyes. He remained silent for a long moment, pondering Harry's words. Finally, he spoke. "Your proposal… is intriguing," Voldemort responded thoughtfully. "Your approach with the school reopening was indeed effective. You are perceived differently by the wizarding world compared to how they see me. Using this to our advantage could be beneficial as long as my objectives are the ones being met."
He paused, his intense gaze fixed on Harry. "Alright, Harry, I will allow you this freedom, under the condition that you strictly adhere to achieving my goals. Should I find you altering or diluting them in any way, be warned, the repercussions will be severe. This is a matter of trust, Harry. Betray it, and the consequences will make you wish you'd never been granted this mercy."
Harry nodded; he knew his expression conveyed one of disbelief. "Why are you offering me any of this, we both know you don't have to concede anything."
The Dark Lord gazed at Harry with a contemplative expression, seemingly measuring each word. "What did I tell you about Bella and how to earn her loyalty?"
Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, struggling to grasp the relevance. "You said I needed to figure out what she wanted, that I could obtain her loyalty by giving her what she desired."
Voldemort nodded. "And tell me, do you think there is a difference between obedience and loyalty?"
Harry supposed so. Obedience could be forced, not relied upon if achieved by something like fear, bribery, or threats. Once the pressure was off, the obedience might disappear. Loyalty was akin to friendship in Harry's mind. Reliable, real. It mattered. His eyes rose as he met the Dark Lord's knowing stare. The revelation crashed into like the Knight Bus speeding through the streets. He'd said it before… He wanted Harry's loyalty.
The Dark Lord had managed to secure Harry's obedience through a web of threats and manipulations. Yet, they both understood that under different circumstances, Harry would never have willingly submitted to him. Given the opportunity, Harry would undoubtedly seize his freedom. What Voldemort hinted at now was that Harry's vow was not just about submission; the Dark Lord wanted true loyalty. What would it take for Harry to choose to remain by the Dark Lord's side without the need for threats or constraints? Was that the real negotiation that was occurring? What concessions was the Dark Lord willing to make in order to secure Harry's genuine loyalty?
"What is it you want?" The Dark Lord asked softly. Before, he'd asked what Harry wanted changed in their negotiations. The teen had been taught by his master well enough to see the change in nuance. What did Harry want in order to become truly loyal?
"I want to protect others, for this war to never start," Harry replied.
The crimson knowing stare grew intense; it was captivating, Harry could not look away. "No, deeper than that. What is it that you, Harry Potter, want? Not for others but for yourself?"
Harry swallowed. "I don't know," he whispered. Did Voldemort know him better than he knew himself?
"I think you want control…" Yes, the teen realized, the Dark Lord did know him better than he knew himself. It seemed so obvious once spoken aloud.
Since the day his parents had been killed, his life had been irreversibly out of his control. He was forced to live with the Dursleys, who hated him, where he was starved and neglected.
He'd entered Hogwarts ignorant and alone, the weight of a legacy he was unaware of nearly crushing him. All the hopes and burdens of the wizarding world were constantly placed on his shoulders. And Dumbledore had always just expected him to obey.
Worse, no one on the Light side thought he was strong or mature enough to be of value, so he'd been kept in the dark about a war he was expected to win. Even Sirius had dumped the Black Lordship on him without his consent. Over the last six-year, he'd just been reacting to one horror after another, trying to stay alive and keep his friends from being caught in the crossfires. And that wasn't counting the literal hundreds, if not thousands, of actions the Dark Lord had forced upon him.
"Which seems like the one thing still outside of my grasp," Harry said softly.
Voldemort leaned forward, uncomfortably close, his magic feeling enticing, intense. Harry blinked, trying to keep himself grounded. He doubted the Dark Lord was intentionally directing his magic this way; it was instinctive, a wanting, even a craving for the teen to make good on his promise, to actually submit and become truly loyal.
"Continue to please me, obey me, become truly loyal... And I will deny you nothing, my heir."
While the words were terrible, Harry felt a genuine sense of a burden being removed. Was it possible that somehow, in his complete submission, he could gain control of his life back?
That was what Voldemort had always promised him: truly submit and the world would be open to him. The craziest part was that Harry felt in more control of his life with Voldemort than he ever had before. At least he was making his own decisions. They were terrible, but they were still his decisions to make.
He nodded his head, partly in submission and partly in agreement, accepting this new, evolving dynamics of their relationship. Voldemort would permit Harry to control how he chose to be obedient, as long as he remained truly obedient. In return, Harry was pledging to be loyal, to accept his place at the Dark Lord's side, truly making it his own. As Harry locked eyes with that intense crimson gaze, the choice before him appeared less daunting than he ever could have imagined. The Dark Lord's desire for his presence was unmistakable, and he'd already proven to Harry time and again that the Dark Lord rewarded those who pleased him
"Thank you, my lord," he said, noticing that this time, using the honorific didn't feel that difficult to include.
S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S
After their shocking conversation, Harry soon departed the manor, accompanying Voldemort to the Ministry. The Dark Lord had further explained that it would be beneficial for Harry to gain as much exposure to wizarding politics before coming of age, a point with which Harry ultimately agreed. Since the Dark Lord had reclaimed his title, Harry had only joined Voldemort on three visits to the Ministry, each time feeling incredibly uncomfortable. This occasion was no different. As soon as they stepped into the atrium, all eyes were on them.
There was an undeniable sense of horror among the onlookers as they realized who was in their midst.
"The sheep will always fear the wolf," Voldemort hissed, clearly amused.
Harry glanced sideways at the Dark Lord, wishing there were fewer eyes focused on the pair. "That seems wise of the sheep if they want to stay alive," Harry responded quietly.
"It is better to never be a sheep," the Dark Lord stated resolutely. Harry had no counterargument and remained silent, closely following Voldemort as they navigated their way to the elevators.
Their first destination for the day was the Department of International Cooperation. Voldemort aimed to sway the laws regulating the import and use of international magical artifacts. He argued that the Ministry of Magic's stringent regulations on dark magic in recent decades had led to prohibitions on trading or importing magical artifacts essential for many dark rituals.
They soon arrived at the DIC entrance, where they were joined by a newer Death Eater, Walden Selwyn. Walden, a tall and imposing wizard in his mid-thirties, exuded an air of menacing confidence. He was the first cousin of the formidable Selwyn Lord, a fervent supporter of Lord Voldemort, and shared a striking resemblance that hinted at their shared dedication to the cause. Walden's sharp, calculating eyes depicted unwavering loyalty to the Dark Lord as they briefly discussed the Dark Lord's plan before going to the Department Chair's office.
The atmosphere was tense yet under control as the Dark Lord and Selwyn presented their case to the department head, Edgar Thistleby. Edgar, of shorter stature, hunched shoulders, and a nervous disposition, seemed visibly fearful in the presence of the Dark Lord and his followers. His thin frame and sweaty brow betrayed his anxiety. He kept his head lowered, avoiding direct eye contact, and his voice trembled when he spoke.
Voldemort began by meticulously explaining the limitations imposed by current laws, avoiding stating that the laws explicitly targeted artifacts for certain dark rituals. Instead, he was methodical and persuasive, outlining how these restrictions hindered important magical research and exploration.
The department head listened closely, clearly terrified, occasionally interjecting with questions or clarifications, but there was no real resistance. Voldemort, a master of persuasion, responded with carefully crafted answers, weaving a narrative that portrayed his request (demands) as beneficial not only to his interests but potentially to the broader wizarding community.
Though mostly silent, Walden Selwyn's presence added an unspoken threat to the proceedings, a reminder of the power and influence wielded by Voldemort that existed within Thistleby's own department.
Harry observed the exchange closely, keenly aware of the subtle interplay between power and diplomacy. As the conversation delved into the specifics of amending the laws, discussions centered around potential loopholes that could be immediately exploited. Voldemort sought assurance that Thistleby would be willing to collaborate with Selwyn, a request to which Thistleby eagerly agreed. He seemed determined to expedite Voldemort's departure by consenting to anything that would bring the meeting to a close.
In the end, the meeting lasted less than thirty minutes, and the wizard had shown neither the ability nor the willingness to oppose the Dark Lord. This left Harry wondering why he had bothered to attend in person at all, a question he voiced.
"My regular presence in the Ministry is deliberate," Voldemort revealed. "Meeting the department head directly underscores my commitment to personally champion the policy changes I seek. And now that we have had this face-to-face encounter and he is aware that I know his name, his resistance will be tempered lest I pay him another visit."
Harry easily grasped the underlying message. Voldemort aimed to instill panic in those who might oppose him, making it clear that bureaucratic obstacles couldn't shield them; the Dark Lord could and would track them down if necessary.
Their second meeting proved to be more challenging than the first. This time, they met an elderly witch named Bertrude Marxel, who headed the magical department responsible for Ministry of Magic employment. Bertrude exuded an unassailable air of authority, her silver hair impeccably styled, and her keen aging eyes missing nothing. It was immediately clear that she held no warmth for Voldemort, and her demeanor suggested she couldn't be easily manipulated. Harry even suspected that, given her age, she'd sooner meet her own death than grant even the smallest favor to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort had assumed his full Lord Slytherin persona for this meeting—a shrewd, charismatic wizard allegedly aiming to find consensus for the benefit of the wizarding populace. However, Harry saw through the silver-tongued facade, recognizing the subtle nuances in his proposal that tilted the scales heavily toward the Dark Lord's interests.
Bertrude clearly saw the same.
As the Dark Lord spoke, this marked the first time Harry had heard of the proposed law, a policy that would redefine the Ministry's approach to hiring for various entry-level post- Hogwarts positions. As Harry read between the lines, he was taken aback to realize that Voldemort intended to seize control over the selection process. If he had his way, only a privileged few would have the authority to make hiring decisions for Hogwarts outplacement jobs, allowing them to be exceedingly selective in their choices. The Dark Lord sold it as a way to identify the brightest and most capable witches and wizards, expediting the utilization of their talents, getting them into the ministry sooner, and helping their careers flourish.
Bertrude astutely discerned that this approach would also favor those with influential connections and who the Dark Lord approved of.
As Voldemort presented his case, Bertrude listened attentively but with a palpable air of disapproval. She didn't shy away from asking difficult questions and vehemently voicing her opposition to any proposed changes. Unlike Thistleby, who had been compliant, Bertrude refused to yield to Voldemort's presence or power.
Harry observed as Voldemort's frustration mounted, yet his icy composure remained unshaken. Most notably, Harry could sense the potent undercurrents of the Dark Lord's magic, even without any overt signs on his face. He wondered if the elderly witch could sense the same formidable presence emanating from Voldemort. The tangible tension in the room seemed clear to the teen, all because Bertrude steadfastly refused to be intimidated by Lord Slytherin. She actually seemed to derive perverse joy from highlighting that the Dark Lord would be unable to enforce this law change without her consent, boasting that she had held this position for fifty years and had fiercely defended the existing hiring practices. As a self-proclaimed Muggle-born, she believed the current policies were the right ones, with no need for change.
With no resolution reached, the Dark Lord eventually departed, leaving behind a promise that he would return at a later date. Bertrude's response was that she could hardly wait. Harry couldn't help but think that the old woman had a death wish, even if her spunk was kind of refreshing.
Sensing the persistent tension, Harry maintained his silence as they embarked on their journey back through the bustling corridors toward the atrium. He hoped the Dark Lord wouldn't devise a scheme to have the elderly woman removed or, worse, harmed. Equally important, the sudden law proposal had taken him by surprise, and he realized he needed to gain a better understanding of it to determine how he might influence its shape. He contemplated Hermione as a prime example of an exceptionally talented witch who might be overlooked if only individuals like Malfoy were granted the power to make hiring decisions. Harry sought to make the case for talent prevailing over bloodline, hoping that this argument would resonate with the Dark Lord, who had already shown some support for Harry's desire not to relegate those who were not pure-blooded to a secondary or worse status.
As they walked, the Ministry employees they encountered gave them a wide berth, their expressions reflecting a mix of fear and curiosity. It was during this silent march that they unexpectedly ran into Arthur Weasley. The typically jovial man looked disheveled, with ink smudged on his nose, and he appeared to be in a hurry to get somewhere. Spotting them, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at them with his mouth slightly open. With a palpable air of trepidation about him, but determination burning in his eyes, he approached.
Coming to a stop before the imposing Dark Lord, his eyes shifted from the tall wizard to the teen. "Lord Slytherin," he greeted stonily, his eyes shifting to Harry. "Harry. It's good to see you; it's been so long…" It was clear he was nervous. His voice trembled.
"Mr. Weasley," Voldemort acknowledged, making no gesture of respect, nod, or otherwise. "What do we owe this... pleasure?"
Arthur Weasley hesitated for a moment, his eyes shifting nervously between Harry and Voldemort. Finally, he mustered the courage to address Harry. "Harry, may I have a word with you in private?"
Harry exchanged a quick, uncertain glance with Voldemort. He thought the world of the man but was unsure about being alone with the Weasley patriarch, considering their last encounter had involved Harry fleeing from a trial after betraying Dumbledore and the light. He had no idea how Arthur Weasley felt about him or what he might want to discuss.
Voldemort's crimson eyes observed Harry for a moment, and then he waved a dismissive hand. "Make it quick, Harry. I'll be waiting in the atrium." Without a second glance at Arthur, he strode past the man.
Harry shifted awkwardly, watching the trailing cape of Voldemort's flowing robes, unsure of what to say. It was Arthur who broke the silence first. "Harry, it's so great to see you. Are you okay?" Harry glanced back, seeing the pained and worried expression.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he murmured, "how are you?"
"Merlin, you're asking me?" Arthur said, with fond exasperation.
Harry shrugged, feeling all the more awkward. "Look," he started, feeling miserable and aware that they did not have much time. "I'm sorry about what happened. I never meant to hurt you, to hurt anyone. I'm just doing what I think is best to keep everyone safe."
Arthur stepped in, pulling Harry into a deep hug. "I know," he whispered. "We all know. This burden should never have been placed on you. It was foolish to have you go to the trial.
You're just a teenager. I was telling Albus, we're putting too much expectation on you. That's why you're making the decisions you are. You feel like you have to protect everyone. It's too much for anyone." Harry didn't have the heart to correct him and say that he was the only one with the power to do so.
"Harry, please come home," Arthur said, releasing him and stepping back. It stung only a little that no place came to mind as a home. The closest was Hogwarts, where he knew he could never live, and then Slytherin Manor, the place he did, in fact, intend to return to.
"You know I can't," he said quietly. "I know it's hard to believe, but I'm safe there. He treats me well. And I believe in what I'm doing. You might not agree, but it's my decision to make."
Arthur shook his head. "Harry, Merlin knows you're mature beyond your years, but you're just a teenager. You can't make this type of decision."
Harry frowned, becoming annoyed. This is exactly what frustrated him about the Light; they thought they knew best. "I'm only months away from being of age," he argued.
"But you're not there yet."
"Well, I'm Lord Slytherin's heir and apprentice, and under the law, he is my magical guardian. So, I've made a decision that aligns with what my guardian desires."
Mr. Weasley countenance darkened. "I'm certain you can fight that, can be released from his guardianship."
Harry shook his head. "I don't intend to fight it."
The profound silence between them was deafening. "You don't…" Arthur gaped, seemingly unbelieving of what he heard. "Harry, he murdered your parents!"
Harry's eyes widened, taking a step back. It felt like a slap in the face. "You don't think I know that?" His voice was laced with anger.
"The way you're talking, it makes me wonder…" The fight seemed to leave Arthur, he closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, forgive me, I never should have said that. I know this situation is hard on you, of course, you know what that man has done… Please, I just wish you'd reconsider."
Harry took a step to the side, making to get around him; he didn't want to stay for this conversation anymore. He felt bad enough without this judgment from one of the people he was trying to protect. "I think I should go."
Arthur's expression looked stricken, beyond pained. "I'm sorry, I truly did not mean to make you feel bad. I should not have said that. We're all stressed with what's been going on."
As Harry began to walk past him, Arthur's desperation reached its peak, and he reached out, grabbing the Potter heir's shoulder. "Harry, please, at least write to Hermione and Ron.
They're so worried about you. I know they want to hear from you. Anything, even if it's short."
Harry turned to face Arthur, a bitter edge in his voice. "So they can judge and reject me too, like everyone else?"
Arthur took on an injured expression, his eyes brimming with sorrow. He shook his head slowly and spoke gently, "No, Harry, it's not like that. I don't hate you, and neither do they." His demeanor shifted from sorrow to one of reluctant acceptance as he addressed the friendship between his son, Hermione, and Harry. "In fact, I believe they're the only ones who actually anticipated the choice you made. They weren't caught off guard in the slightest. Ron would be livid at how our conversation has gone so far. I truly apologize for my earlier words, it's just that... You, Ron, Hermione—all of you carry this burden that makes you believe the fate of this war rests solely on your shoulders. More than anything, I wish you'd stop thinking that."
He squeezed Harry's arm then released it. "They were insistent that I tell you that they remain by your side, they trust you, no matter what. Please, reach out to them. They pleaded with me to convince you if I got the chance. Don't let my poorly chosen words dissuade you from reconnecting with your friends, you don't need to lose them in all this."
Harry hesitated for a moment, the pain of the growing divide between him, Mr. Weasley, and the Light weighing heavily on him. He wondered if reaching out to his closest friends would only make things worse. He'd be lying if he claimed he didn't miss them. After a heavy sigh, he nodded reluctantly. "I'll consider it."
Arthur's expression softened, though the sadness still lingered in his eyes. "Thank you, Harry. That's all they wanted to hear."
"I really need to go," Harry said, feeling the need to distance himself from the painful conversation. Heightening his hurry was the knowledge that there was an impatient and irritated Dark Lord waiting for him.
"Please stay safe," Arthur urged. "I'm here for you, no matter what. Never hesitate to come to me for help." Harry nodded, though he wasn't sure if he truly believed those words. He turned and walked away; his heart felt heavy.
Knowing that he must look frazzled from the encounter, Harry quickly approached Voldemort, who stood in a side alcove within the atrium, engrossed in a conversation with Lucius Malfoy. Harry slowed, approaching cautiously; he hadn't exchanged words with any of the Malfoys since he and Voldemort had departed the previous night. The Dark Lord had compelled Draco to swear an oath on the spot, binding his life and magic to never betray Voldemort or his plans ever again. Afterward, Voldemort had led Harry away from the Manor, leaving his terrified and tortured followers to pick up the pieces.
As he drew closer to Lucius Malfoy, Harry noticed that the normally haughty wizard appeared pale, his usually resplendent platinum hair lacking its usual luster, and dark bags under his eyes suggested a sleepless night. Harry couldn't help but worry about the other Malfoys, particularly Draco's well-being.
"Mr. Potter," Lucius murmured upon Harry's arrival, lowering his head while avoiding direct eye contact.
"Lord Malfoy," Harry replied, studying Lucius with genuine concern. He had never seen the typically proud wizard look so exposed.
"Good, you're back," Voldemort said, turning his attention to Harry. "I was just informing Lucius that I expect him to meet with you and Lord Ambrose tomorrow to determine our way forward regarding the two meetings we just had. Since you were present, I entrust you with the task of briefing them tomorrow, detailing the specifics of what occurred, my intentions for the laws, and any anticipated resistance," Voldemort's crimson gaze met Harry's, emphasizing the word 'intentions,' implying this would be Harry's first test to achieve what they'd agreed to that morning. Harry nodded. The Dark Lord then turned back to Lucius. "I expect you to quickly figure out a way to achieve them, or I will be very displeased."
"Of course, my lord," Lucius agreed, his usual arrogance conspicuously absent.
"Then you are dismissed; Harry will arrive sometime in the morning." Without uttering another word, the Dark Lord departed. It was evident that Lucius's status had significantly fallen, that the Dark Lord had barely restrained his disdain—likely due to the numerous onlookers. Recognizing that the impromptu meeting had concluded, Harry cast one last glance at the defeated man before quickly trailing the Dark Lord out of the Ministry.
Upon returning to the manor, Voldemort turned to Harry and inquired, "What did Mr. Weasley want from you?"
Harry opted for honesty; it wasn't that different from what Dumbledore had said during the meeting with Minister Bones, which had only seemed to amuse the Dark Lord. "He wanted me to reconsider my decisions."
"And how did you respond?" Voldemort probed, his eyes narrowing.
"That I am committed to my chosen path," Harry replied, locking eyes with Voldemort, wordlessly inviting him to delve into his thoughts if any doubt lingered. Harry was relieved to sense no intrusion into his mind.
Voldemort nodded once. "Good. You can continue your studies for the rest of the day. I don't have time to practice spell casting, but we will make time tomorrow," Voldemort said, turning to leave.
"Um," Harry began hesitantly, his mouth getting ahead of him before he'd fully processed the request that had been on his mind since parting with Mr. Weasley. If he'd been thinking, he would have waited until Voldemort was in a better mood.
Voldemort turned, arching a brow, indicating Harry had permission to speak. Harry lowered his gaze, his cheeks reddening. He knew he was committed now. "I was wondering... am I allowed to write to anyone?"
"Who do you want to write to?" Voldemort inquired. "Ron and Hermione," Harry admitted.
Voldemort regarded him pensively. "You seemed upset after your conversation with Mr. Weasley. Do you not anticipate more of the same from them?"
Harry wasn't sure what to say, but he decided to continue with the truth. That's what a loyal heir did, right? The worst-case scenario was that he would be denied, and then he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. In a way, he almost preferred that outcome, he realized guiltily. "He told me that they actually anticipated that I might make this decision and that they still stood by me. I guess... well, if it's true..."
Harry could feel Voldemort's crimson eyes scrutinizing him, calculating. "Do you wish to write to them?"
Harry nodded, forcing himself to commit to it. He owed them at least that if what Mr. Weasley said was true. "Yes, at least once."
Voldemort nodded. "Very well. As I mentioned before, I will monitor your correspondence. Don't do anything rash."
Harry nodded gratefully, feeling the tension ease. "Thank you."
S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S
Harry arrived the next morning at Malfoy Manor; a house-elf met him and escorted him to the receiving room. There was no sign of Draco or Narcissa.
Upon entering the elegant chamber, Harry noticed that Lucius and Lord Ambrose were already present. The shadow of the man Harry had seen the previous day was gone, replaced by a stoic mask that would have been convincing if Harry hadn't known what to look for.
"Mr. Potter," Lucius greeted, almost as if nothing had happened. He nodded to Lord Ambrose, almost pointedly. "We were just settling in, and I see no reason not to get straight into it." It was clear to the teen that Malfoy didn't want to discuss anything personal or sensitive. Harry sat, silently agreeing that they did not need to involve Ambrose. But he was determined to talk about what had occurred with the Malfoys' patriarch and would not leave without seeing Draco.
Getting to business, Harry recounted in detail the two meetings, explaining to the best of his abilities what the Dark Lord had claimed to want when discussing his proposals with the two Ministry officials. Neither Ambrose nor Lucius seemed surprised about the policies or that the meetings had occurred, leading Harry to believe he was the only one who had been out of the loop.
What followed were several hours very similar to most of Harry's meetings with the two Wizard Lords. They discussed the policies, who the key stakeholders were, who were likely to support them, and who might oppose them. Harry felt uneasy admitting that Bertrude Marxel did not support their cause, trying to phrase it in a way that would not encourage dark intentions to get her out of the picture. He was relieved that neither Ambrose nor Lucius seemed surprised by her stubbornness or particularly concerned about her dissenting opinion.
Seeing Harry's confusion, Lucius explained stiffly that her opposition did not matter in the grand scheme of things. If they secured the support of the Wizengamot members they needed, she would not be able to stop their plans. Once again, Harry was struck by how much of the wizarding world was truly run by old blood. Most of the Ministry seemed to be just a public- facing façade, having only a semblance of power as long as those on the Wizengamot didn't care about the topic at hand.
As their meeting concluded, an initial plan established, it was clear that Lucius wanted to quickly usher them out and not allow them to dawdle. Ambrose, having picked up on the underlying tension despite Malfoy's best efforts, agreeably departed. Harry, however, hovered behind.
"Mr. Potter, I have other things to attend to, one of the elves will see you to the apparition area," Lucius said, making to sweep past the teen.
"Lord Malfoy, we need to talk," Harry said softly, stepping in front of the wizard.
Lucius scowled. "I truly don't have time; as I'm sure you're aware, I need to fulfill the tasks the Dark Lord has assigned me, and we both know he is neither patient nor tolerant of failure." By the twitch of his eyes, Harry suspected the requirements suddenly placed upon the Malfoy Lord might be significant. Harry might have felt bad if it weren't for the fact that Lucius had managed to get Harry in trouble with Voldemort the previous day. Despite that, Harry had still saved his son when it was clear the Malfoy Lord was powerless to do so.
"Then perhaps you should stop delaying the inevitable. I want to see Draco," Harry replied, perhaps more forcefully than intended or strictly proper, but the Malfoy Lord had been avoiding eye contact and putting the raven-haired teen on edge the entire morning. While he knew the Malfoy family was troubled by the encounter, and that was an understatement, Harry needed to see Draco. As one of the few to have survived Voldemort's wrath multiple times, he understood what the teen was going through and wanted to make sure he was alright. More than that, he had questions he needed answered.
"Lord Malfoy, I insist," Harry said. The silver eyes gazing at him narrowed in clear frustration, but Harry suspected the Malfoy Lord would not refuse an outright demand from Harry. He was the Dark Lord's heir and apprentice, and Draco now owed a life debt to the teen. To deny him would be inappropriate and dangerous on multiple fronts.
"Very well, Mr. Potter, but as you can imagine, Draco is not doing well from the encounter, so I would ask you to keep it brief and not disrupt his recovery."
He passed Harry, which served as the teen's indication to follow. Their walk was silent and awkward, with Lucius refusing to even acknowledge Harry as they ascended the stairs to the private wing of the manor, where Harry knew Draco's bedchamber was located. They stopped outside the door, and finally, Lucius met Harry's eyes.
"As you likely know, recovery from such treatment is difficult in the best of environments. Draco has found the entire ordeal to be quite hellish. In hopes that he makes a full recovery, I ask that you strive not to upset him, do not play games with him, or pull him into any more of your schemes."
Harry met the angry and conflicted silver gaze. "If you don't think I consider Draco a friend after last night, then nothing will convince you that my intentions toward him are anything but honorable," Harry said, stepping past the wizard and knocking once on the door. He heard a murmur, which he took as consent, and entered.
The room was dimly lit, with the curtains drawn closed despite the late afternoon hour. A lump in the bed revealed Draco's curled-up body hidden beneath the sheets. "Father, please, leave me alone," a shaky voice said, the figure in the bed not shifting towards the door.
"Draco, it's me," Harry announced softly. Draco jerked, pulling the sheets down and sitting up. The movement seemed to cause him pain, and he scowled, hunching his shoulders in discomfort.
"What are you doing here?" It wasn't unkind, but it was clearly unwelcoming.
"I was tasked to work on some laws with your father and Lord Ambrose. We just finished, and I wanted to see how you are," Harry explained.
Draco scoffed, turning his gaze to the curtained window. Harry lifted his wand and flicked it; the curtains obediently opened, revealing a clear day. Draco blinked, his grimace increasing.
"How do you think I am?" he muttered, not meeting Harry's eyes. "I really would prefer you leave. I'm not up to guests."
"Please, Draco," Harry said, stepping further into the room and shutting the door. This conversation needed to occur. Harry had to confirm that Draco was alright.
"Come to gloat that you now have a life-debt over me?" Draco all but hissed, sounding more like a wounded animal than the heir of the prestigious Malfoy name.
"Of course not," Harry responded, his tone firm. The idea of having a life-debt from Draco appalled him. It hadn't even occurred to him until Voldemort mentioned it upon their return to the manor. The Dark Lord had said it in passing, almost with a note of satisfaction, that between Draco's vow and life-debt, the teen would never have a hope of opposing the Dark again. Voldemort seemed happy about the almost slave-like status, which wasn't surprising since the Dark Lord loved having complete control over his followers. The Dark Lord wasn't even mad about the life debt not being to him since he considered anything belonging to Harry as belonging to himself by extension.
"I came to see how you are."
"I'm peachy, you probably know better than most that the Dark Lord's Crucio feels like a gentle caress."
Harry wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't anticipated Draco being this hostile. They had been getting along so well. He knew the night had become a nightmare, but he'd hoped they could still conduct basic conversations. He'd never asked nor wanted the blonde to make this sacrifice for him.
"Why did you do it?"
Draco turned, his gaze fixed out the window.
"Draco?" Harry prodded, sensing the blonde's averseness to respond.
"What?" Draco snapped back, turning with furious eyes. "I've already relived this nightmare with my father. Why must you rub salt in the wound, Potter?"
Harry was taken aback. They had reverted to using surnames; it had been quite some time since Draco last addressed him as 'Potter' and with such loathing in his tone.
"I'm not trying to force you to relive anything. I'm just trying to understand," Harry explained as patiently as he could. He knew Draco was going through a lot, but his actions also impacted Harry; he needed to know what the Dark Lord saw in his mind.
"It doesn't matter. It was clearly the most foolish thing I've ever done. I won't be making that mistake again," Draco declared.
Harry wasn't sure how to respond, understanding better than most the immense pressure and stress that resulted from facing Voldemort's full wrath. The Dark Lord had tried to kill him numerous times, and he thought it would be insincere to play down Draco's first dance with death, as the teen was clearly not taking it well.
As he stared at the grim teen, Harry felt deeply conflicted. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Draco, of all people, would turn out to be the spy. It seemed implausible; they were hardly close when Draco had visited Gringotts. Their meaningful conversations had only just begun.
"Please, don't shut me out," Harry implored softly. The thought of losing his nascent friendship with Draco pained him. Draco was one of the few from the dark side Harry genuinely enjoyed spending time with. Despite his arrogance and pretentiousness, Draco was witty and had been a wealth of almost endless knowledge, aiding Harry's transition through the political aspects of the wizarding world. Harry hadn't lied when he told Voldemort that Draco had been instrumental in his adjustment. "I never wanted this to happen to you, never expected it would have."
"Well, you should have," Draco snapped. "Clearly everything you touch falls to ruins. You're nothing but trouble; I should have known better than to associate with you."
Harry was momentarily speechless, the accusation striking him hard. His mind betrayed him, summoning every person who'd had the misfortune to have suffered or been targeted because of him: his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Ron and Hermione, the destruction at the Weasleys' home, and now Draco. The list of those affected by his actions was growing, despite his best efforts to stop it. At least he had managed to avoid deaths in the last few encounters.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning away, overwhelmed with self-hatred. Perhaps Draco was right; maybe he was bad news and should distance himself from the Malfoy heir. As he prepared to leave, a wave of despair washed over him. Could he ever do anything right, no matter how hard he tried?
"Merlin, Potter," Draco breathed out, his voice barely audible. Harry almost doubted his own hearing. "How can you be apologizing to me after what you've just agreed to, to save my life?"
Harry paused, turning back to meet Draco's silver gaze, now filled with turmoil and uncertainty.
"Well... You're right. You wouldn't have been in that situation if it weren't for me," Harry admitted.
Draco sighed heavily, sinking back into his covers and giving Harry a pointed look at the chair next to him, which Harry interpreted as an invitation to sit and finally be spoken to somewhat civilly.
"Stop playing the martyr and assuming responsibility for everyone's actions. It's quite arrogant, you know," Draco remarked, and coming from him, it was a significant observation. There was a faint twist of the blonde's lips before it disappeared, his haunted expression returning to his forlorn gaze.
Harry, genuinely puzzled, replied, "Morgana knows I have no clue why you did it, but I know you would never have opposed the Dark Lord if you hadn't become involved with me."
Draco shook his head, a mix of exasperation and disbelief on his face. "You don't see it, do you? The impact you have on people. You didn't force me into anything." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I chose to act... When I saw you captured, beaten, and so utterly hopeless... and then it was clear that you were starting to give up, that you were submitting more and more. I don't know… I saw an opportunity to help you escape, and I seized it."
He glared at Harry. "Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine you'd actually come back."
Harry shrugged; they had already discussed this topic, and he didn't feel the need to justify his decision again. "I just can't understand why you took such a risk. I do appreciate your attempt to help me..." He struggled to phrase it delicately but ultimately opted for directness, characteristic of his Gryffindor roots, despite the Dark Lord's influence. "But why would you want to help me? Especially at such a great risk to yourself?"
"Do you really need me to spell it out?" Draco asked, his frustration evident. Harry nodded earnestly. "Truthfully, yes." His confusion was palpable.
Draco's sigh was long-suffering, more than a little dramatic. "Do you remember our first meeting on the Express when I offered you my hand?" Draco inquired.
Harry recalled it vividly; the arrogant, blonde eleven-year-old had been lecturing him on who was worthy of his company. As a lonely boy who had never had a friend and having just witnessed Ron's eagerness to accept him, Draco's words had struck a raw nerve. Harry had realized then that he didn't want anything to do with the spoiled boy extending his hand. He had rejected it and never looked back.
"Yes, you were a prick," Harry stated honestly.
Draco's expression grew sullen. "I offered you my hand, while it's clear now that you were oblivious to the customs of our world, what you did was a big deal. Your rejection, particularly in front of everyone, was a profound insult to me." He looked away, his voice tinged with lingering hurt. "It's always haunted me—that the famous Harry Potter didn't want my friendship, that I wasn't good enough. I'd grown up like everyone our age hearing stories of how powerful and brave you must be. I knew we'd be in the same year and always thought we'd be a power duo. And you rejected me in the most embarrassing way possible."
Harry was genuinely surprised. "I never thought you weren't good enough. I just thought you were unkind, a bully. You had insulted Ron, who was the first person to ever want to be my friend."
Draco's frown deepened. "You turned down my hand because I insulted the weasel?"
"Yes!" Harry responded in exasperation. "Like you're doing now. Ron and Hermione are my best friends. When you insult them, it's difficult for me to see you in a positive light."
Draco appeared to grapple with the revelation. "I always assumed you were snubbing the Malfoy name. It never crossed my mind that you didn't know who I was. I thought your refusal was deliberate. And that... that stuck with me. I thought you rejected me because of my family, that we were known Dark supporters and you wanted nothing to do with me, that I was beneath you."
The blonde shook his head, seemingly looking inward. "And now, with another war looming and having already witnessed the Dark Lord's terror firsthand," he glanced up, meeting Harry's eyes with haunted memories reflected in them. "After fourth year until his manor was ready, he stayed with us and I began to see the magnitude of what he was trying to do. He's ruthless, willing to torture or kill anyone who angers him or stands in his way. And he was hell-bent on gaining control of the magical world." He paused, his full concentration on Harry, making the teen feel uncomfortable.
"Everyone says you're the only one who can stop him. And when you were captured, I began to realize you were just a kid, like me, trapped in this dreadful war. So, I thought if you could escape, perhaps, somehow, life might get better. The idea of you on his side, fulfilling all his commands, horrified me. I could not envision it; I have no idea how you've managed to still be so good after giving him so much."
He closed his eyes, shaking his head in self-hatred. "And I guess I also felt cowardly. Always living in fear, dreading every summons, fearful his followers might do something to me to get at my father. Anytime the Dark Lord is displeased with you, it's like an open target for the rest to try and take you down. Father's always held a coveted position, but because the Dark Lord relies on him so much, it's easy to be in a situation where the Dark Lord becomes displeased, impatient, not tolerating any delays or failure."
"Life was awful and then it was made all the worse as I stood there during your initial capture, the day you recovered after almost dying. It was horrible watching you try and stand up to him, denying his offer, taking his punishments." He shuddered as if his own reliving of those days was just as awful for him as it was for Harry.
"Then something changed; you accepted and became his apprentice, you slowly were beginning to earn his approval, and we started to become friends… The day you stood by him at your introduction, I realized that if you stayed by his side, the war would be over. And then my father let slip the Dark Lord was pleased with you, letting you run an errand on his behalf to Diagon Alley. It seemed too good to be true. I could try and get you out before you went too far and it would never come back on me as the betrayer. I believed that if I could do one good thing for this world, it would be helping you escape this nightmare. And then, of all things, you choose to return…"
Harry was at a loss for words. The realization that Draco had risked everything to aid his escape, believing Harry could turn the tide of the war, was overwhelming.
Draco, caught up in his story, continued unrestrained now that he'd started. "I would have gotten away with it too, but then he was threatening Severus. I thought he might kill him if they didn't discover the spy, and I just freaked out. I couldn't stop it. I had a panic attack, he, of course, noticed, he saw in my mind me writing the letter and sending it with a postal owl unsigned. He knew… He was going to kill me, I'm certain of it. I'd never felt anything worse than his torture. I honestly just wished he had done it to make it end. It seemed like it was lasting forever. And then you showed up."
He looked up, staring unseeingly at Harry. "I can't believe you promised him that. I didn't hear you; I was pretty out of it. But my father told me the next morning. You promised him full obedience, full submission, exactly what I was trying to prevent." He closed his eyes, looking downward. "You gave up your life to save mine, a life debt I can never repay."
"I actually get in life and death situations fairly often," Harry said, trying, albeit poorly, to lighten the mood. "You might actually get your wish quicker than you think."
"How can you joke about this?" Draco asked, visibly pained.
"I'm not making light of your situation, not at all," Harry said, sobering. "But me making that promise isn't as big as you're making it. You're not the only reason he got that promise; it was heading in that direction anyway. He wanted my full submission, I didn't see a way to escape that, not after agreeing to turn against the light in the first place. At least this way, my submission did some good."
"You're unbelievable; you treat your own life so flippantly."
Harry shrugged, "This is the world I live in. Either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord has been trying to control me since before I could walk. Of course, it's not ideal, but I'm making the best with what I have." He paused, giving Draco a knowing look. "And I hope you do so as well. From someone who's used to pissing the Dark Lord off and who also can't escape him, this doesn't mean your life is over, Draco. You can still make something of it."
Draco snorted, "Of course it is. He's livid with me; he'll always be looking to punish me, and I know he'll take it out on my father and mother as well. I've ruined our family name; as he comes into more power, I know the Malfoys' name will become mud."
Harry wished he could offer comfort, tell Draco that he was wrong, but he suspected that was exactly what the Dark Lord planned to do. "Well, he seemed pretty intent on killing me, and now I'm his apprentice and heir… so I guess you never know. Just don't give up, please.
Promise me... I still need you."
Draco met his gaze, full of skepticism and at least some wonder. "I find it hard to believe I can be of any help to you now," he said, but Harry could see the faintest shimmer of hope in his eyes. And it didn't seem like it was because of the alleged power Harry had, that he was the Dark Lord's heir. It was because he, Harry, had said he needed Draco. It almost seemed reminiscent of that day all those years ago on the train, when Draco had come to him seeking to be friends.
Harry suddenly stood from his seat, stepping towards the dejected Malfoy heir, holding out his hand.
Cautiously, Draco looked at it. "Merlin, what are you doing now, Potter?" He asked, confused, but there was definitely the smallest sliver of hope present.
"The name is Harry," the sixteen-going-on-seventeen-year-old apprentice and heir of the Darkest Lord of the Century said, forming an easy smile. "And yes, I would love to be your friend."
Draco looked speechless at the hand, then looked up, meeting Harry's eyes as if not daring to believe it. Tentatively, he reached out his hand and took it.
AN: Reviews and thoughts are always welcomed - makes posting so much more enjoyable to learn what you think!