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Chapter Text

Dear,

Dark Lord Voldemort

I have made this letter to give you an invite to my final standing. I know how eager you are to see my eyes flicker with light for the final time, so for once I have decided to let the Dark Lord indulge. I’m not one to make a sob story, the prophet has done that enough for me. From saying I’m having the most perfect life I could ever want, to sob story over sob story, and finally saying that I’m a cold faced liar. Though I guess for a suicide note to send to my enemy I should tell him how much he fucked up my life, right? I’m sending my owl, my only friend during the holidays to give you this. Her name is Hedwig and she is probably the most human thing I have ever owned.
In typical manner of a suicide note, I will start with something sappy. A poem seems like the way to go I guess. And I know what you're thinking, ‘The boy-who-lived is also the boy-who-wrote-poems-like-a -pansy?!’ Yes, yes I do. My friend told me that it helps to express my emotions in a healthy way. Anyway, I shall begin.

Boy who didn’t want to live.

Godric’s Hollow 15 years ago, had a family of 3,
Godric’s Hollow was meant to be safe, the safest place there was.
Godric’s Hollow, a place where people were killed.
Godric’s Hollow, 15 years ago, has a house of one.

Number 4 Privet Drive, a replacement for what was stolen from the baby,
Number 4 Privet Drive, under the cupboard for 11 straight years to sleep.
Number 4 Privet Drive, a place that was bland to never stick out, to hold no secrets.
Number 4 Privet Drive, a misfortune of a place for a family of one to live.

Hogwarts, an escape from the pain that grew every time the family of one came back.
Hogwarts, where a girl died, where people were attacked, where a boy died.
Hogwarts, a place that was so easy to break into you could do it in your sleep.
Hogwarts, a place that sometimes gave families a bad ending for their child’s story book.
The Daily Pr0phet, a news-paper with moving pictures, a new way to get information.
The Daily Prophet, digging every worm into a little boy’s life, because he had survived a terrible incident.
The Daily Prophet, filled with horrible reporters, Rita Skeeter literally bugging Hogwarts.
The Daily Prophet, just another way to ruin anything and everything about a boy’s life.
The Ministry of Magic, being a government to hold everyone together just to hide,
The Ministry of Magic, a place to wrongfully convict someone more than once.
The Ministry of Magic, easy enough to be broken into by a bunch of children and a bloody cult.
The Ministry of Magic, a place to watch someone you love die, ashes to ashes dust to dust.
Myrtle’s Bathroom, a place to be killed, a place to ridicule a girl who died too soon.
Myrtle’s Bathroom, a place t0 cry, I see the blonde boy cry, he just doesn’t know.
Myrtle’s Bathroom, half a century alone, scared, forever haunting that girl’s bathroom.
Myrtle’s Bathroom, wishing for something different you will never get, crying over dead girls.
Godric’s Hollow, green flashes, lily’s spread over graves, sorrow spilled by a boy who’d never get a happy ending.
Number 4 Privet Drive, burnt hands, never being normal, never sh0uld have happened.
Hogwarts, Fairytale land, when do they get their happy end, Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, Cedric Diggory, and all the others in between.
The Daily Prophet, lies piling miles high, only counts a knut to bec0me a nut.
The Ministry of Magic, poor excuse f0r a government, sent a pink toad with blood quills, firing a poor woman.
Myrtle’s Bathroom, she just wanted peace and solitude, yet saw yellow eyes that turned her body into stone.

The boy who didn’t want to live.

Alright, sappy craps over if you skipped it, good for you. I wish I was just anyone else, I would even take you as a choice. Right, I still need to tell you where the party is, it’s at number 4 privet drive, big surprise! It’s gonna be 11:30 through 12:00am. I won’t wait after 12:00 am. It’s gonna be like Happy New Years except instead of fireworks flying, it’s Harry falling! Anyways, it will be on July 31st, no day special for anyone.

Your beloved nemines,
Harry James Potter.

Voldemort had almost thought of this as a practical, yet morbid, joke. There was just something tingling in the back of his head that defied his true feeling. The letter itself had made its way to him on Friday and was very confused on why a stark white envelope made its way to his desk with a snowy white owl looking scared, and mostly anxiety ridden. Now thinking over the writing of the letter, which was just made out of lined paper from a muggle notebook, the boy who lived was either going to end his life or kill everyone else, the second was very unlikely. A dark lord can only dream. He was highly concerned about the content of the poem. Did Dumbledore put the boy into a place where he was abused?
Also what was this about Blood-Quills and a pink pompous toad? Was Potter giving himself up willingly? This was certainly chilling, this would be something he would have to say to the Death-Eater’s next meeting. Also, the dark lord was very sure that the boy's birthday was on July 31st. Yes, he kept track of his enemy’s birthday, but who didn’t? He might have accidently slipped upon it.
Was Potter really contemplating this? It did in all honestly seem like he was gonna go through with this. Did Dumbledore know about this? Was he going to do his mellow-dramatic, “It was a terrible accident that nobody knew about,” like he normally did. That would be absolute bullshit. Voldemort decided on going to Potter’s Deathday, maybe just a few hours earlier to make sure it wasn’t one of Dumbledore’s plans that were absolutely terrifying. The days following Friday ticked by like paint-drying. Slow, boring, and full of worries. He kept thinking of sending him a letter, but it would seem like he probably wouldn’t get it until the day and Voldemort kept pushing it away.
Voldemort couldn’t believe himself, saving his enemy? Bloody poetic, Voldemort thought. Was hell really freezing over tonight? He still couldn’t get over the Blood-Quills, he couldn’t believe Dumbledore would allow anything like that in his school. Pink toads and Blood-Quills riddled across his dreams that night. As soon as he woke up after that blood-draining dream, he went to privet drive. Dark Lords, was he tired.
It was only six in the morning, so instead of just going and swooping and stealing the boy he decided to go to a shop. With newly gained muggle money that he took rightfully from a pocket. He went to a bakery with a mask on his face and a hoodie on, if they asked he could just say he was sick. They didn’t ask about his odd clothes, but damn if looks could burn this place would be an inferno. He had gotten coffee, a few buns filled with chocolate, and something called a butterscotch mix. The girl working behind the counter had recommended it; he wasn’t sure he would like it. He didn’t know what butterscotch was, but he did know what butterbeer was, and this was a muggle equivalent.
When had been given a bag instead of a cup he was mildly confused, but he took it with him to one of the tables to try. It couldn’t be that bad. He put his hand inside of the bag experimentally to find exactly what it was. He felt a disk, then a square type of candy, he t00k them both out popping the disk in his mouth. It tasted almost like caramel, but with a hint of salt, and the whole thing was drowned in butterbeer for years. And the Dark Lord started popping them into his mouth like they were the best thing in the world. Which they absolutely were and Voldemort was disappointed when they were all gone. He then quickly drank the coffee in anxiety, because what if one of Dumbledore’s people was walking into the shop and saw him. His whole plan would be ruined!
Yet, none of that had happened, because it was six in the bloody morning and no one except Voldemort was up to check on Harry. Voldemort left the bakery as s0on as he was finished with the coffee he had bought. He didn’t eat the bun and just put it into his hoodie with the butterscotch mix wrapper on it to protect the inside of the hoodie pocket. Voldemort still had a few more hours until it was executable to go to someone’s house uninvited by the owner. In turn to cure his boredom he went to a park that was close to Privet Drive and just swang for a bit. It seemed like the slide was too small and vandalized f0r Voldemort to use, so he went back to the swing and swang for a bit more.
A kid walked past him toward the slides and Voldemort cringed, slides were for losers. Voldemort continued swinging and enjoying the breeze passing through the mask and to his face. Voldemort still noticed that it was still too early to talk to Potter, yet it was 10 am. He could just write notes to the boy and deliver them by snake. No that would also be creepy as hell.
Voldemort then gets bored of the swings, he goes to the grass that surrounds the play area and finds a few wild lily’s and plays he-hates me-he-hates-me-not. After 20 lily’s he hates him not. Surprisingly. Still that didn’t take that long. It was somewhat depressing how little time he had actually wasted. Voldemort is seated at a bench a few meters away from the playground.
Voldemort should have brought a book, even if he wasn’t planning on getting here this early, he still should have. Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all, or at least not as early as he did. Voldemort didn’t notice a boy sitting next to him, until he spoke.

“Hello, Mister? Are you alright?” The boy said, “You’re all alone.”

Voldemort looked at the boy. Surprised that any muggle would approach him. Voldemort simply nodded. Yet, the boy still stayed.

“My name’s Oliver, I wanted to make sure that you were alright, because this is the bench that I normally sit at when I’m sad,” Oliver said

Was this bench his since he cried on it? Was this kid just curious? Possibly a mix of both. The boy did seem quite young, and empathic. Empathy came at that age in huge doses, Voldemort noted.

“Well, I hope you have a good day anyway, bye Mister.” Oliver said, “HENRY, IF YOU TAKE MY BIKE I WILL END YOU!”

Voldemort almost thought the boy said Harry. He would have shot up at the name, but then saw a ginger haired boy instead of the messy raven black that came with the boy. Voldemort would have cursed himself out, but there were still kids nearby. If he did he’d grab attention and grabbing attention meant people would see him, like the boy had.
Voldemort was still early and was still bored. He spotted a snake on one of the slides. He decided to start a conversation with it.

“Hey,” Voldemort snaked out, “Yes you,”

“What iss a speaker doing out here?” The snake questioned, “I was aware that there was only one here,”

Not even two sentences in and Voldemort was concerned. There was another speaker somewhere near the play area?

“Well, I’m here because I was invited and I accidently came earlier than expected,”Voldemort explained, “So, who’s this other speaker?”

“I don’t know his name, but he has black hair, and emerald eyes. He is pretty for a human,” The snake crooned.

“Huh, well thank you,” Voldemort thanked.

“Wait is your name, Mister La Mort? Because the boy speaks of you a lot,” the snake questioned.

“My name is Lord Voldemort, how much does he speak of me?” Voldemort questioned.

“A lot.” The snake said as she slithered away.

Well, that was interesting, no matter how short that conversation was Voldemort had a bunch more information. Like how the boy called him Mister La Mort? Did he not know how to say it, or was it a nickname to hide his name. He did find it a bit endearing either way, it was quite erh, cute. At least it wasn’t an extension of Tom. When Voldemort had stopped thinking about all the things that the nickname was like, Mister Death and variations of the meaning. He noticed that it was sun-set.
Voldemort made his way Number 4 privet drive. It was a nice walk seeing the sun, having random thoughts about the butterscotch mix, was it made out of scotch? The sunset was very endearing. Soon he was on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive; it seemed like the mail had been delivered recently. Delivered recently, Potter’s head was poking out of the door when Voldemort arrived.

“Did you really have no patience?” The boy asked, “ You’re 5 hours early,”

Voldemort looked in mere confusion, “No, you bumbling idiot of a savior, I came here, because well..” Potter’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “ Because, I wasn’t sure if that letter was a joke.”

The boy looked at the Dark Lord concerned for him. “Why would I make a joke like this? You know what, forget that I even invited you, that’s just plain rude,” The boy tried to close the door.

Voldemort had placed his foot between the door and the doorframe to stop it from closing,” Potter,” Voldemort pleaded, “Do you need to get away from here? Your poem sincerely concerned me, it seemed like you were hiding something from the public about your home life.”

The boy scowled, “More like the Daily Prophet hiding things, the ministry practically banned everything except The Prophet in Hogwarts!”

Honestly this was the reason why Voldemort was trying to take down the ministry and the prophet. Who wasn’t tired of seeing that the Boy who lived, lied? Whoever was writing things like this, was a horrible person for mocking a 15 year old, now 16 year old today.

“So are you going to come in or are we gonna get along with the death of the boy who lived?” Potter asked crudely.

“Let’s go inside, I want to see what retched place Dumbledore subjected you to.” Voldemort said.

“Oh, of course,” The boy then added sarcastically, “My Lord”
They both walk into the house and it was like you drained all of the color out of a tie-dye shirt, because you knew it was supposed to be colorful, but it was just plain white. It was morbidly disgusting. It smelled of fake flowers, dust and floor polish. It had reminded him of the smell of Wool’s; morbid and distasteful.

“BOY! WHEre are my letters!?” Voldemort heard a man shout through-out the house.

“They’re coming! I just- Give me a second!” Harry yelled back, then turned to Voldemort and whispered, “Look, go upstairs, see the door with an absurd amount of locks on it, go in there, I’ll meet you in there in probably 15 minutes if I’m lucky,”

“Yeah, okay but are you alright here?” Voldemort asked.

The boy had already left for the other man in the other room. So much for trying to ask. He followed the boy’s instructions about the room. It was quite depressing for the room of the chosen one, 12 feet of space filled with, one bed, a desk, a chair, and a trunk probably hiding all of the boy’s witchery books. Stupid muggles. The customization of the room itself was a few letters on the wall pinned up by a few nails. The letters were from the boy’s friends, Ron and Hermione. Voldemort thought the boy who lived would have more than 2 friends. There were letters on the desk neatly stacked, from Sirius Black, the newly passed. He must have taken them down recently.
Voldemort only read one which looked a bit old. It read, : Harry- I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter, it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted-we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning on the 22nd of November? I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been risky, especially right under Dumbledore’s nose. Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.

-Sirius

After Voldemort had read the letter he guessed that it was in Potter’s 4th year. Moody or well Barty had only been in the school to teach once. Voldemort could barely believe that the curse had lasted that long. Voldemort put the letter, which he noticed had a bit of water damage, down. The boy opened the door, looking tired and a bit weary. It had been 20 minutes, it shouldn’t take that long to scold someone about being a minute late to get the papers. Such a small, infinitesimal, thing.

“Oh right, I forgot about you,” The boy said as he yawned.

Voldemort clenched his teeth together, “ Well, I’m sorry about your short term memory loss,” Voldemort said sarcastically.

Potter chuckled at Voldemort’s joke, “ Well, do you wanna do this today?”

“As long as you want to,” Voldemort buzzed.

“I do, but we have to wait for them to fall asleep or they might follow us,” Potter pointed out, “I could tell you a couple stories that I made a while ago,”
“Hm, really? I didn’t know the boy-who-lived was also the-boy-who-wrote-stories,” Voldemort jokes, “Tell me a few, Potter,”

“Alright, by the way you can sit on my bed if you’d like,” Potter commented, so Voldemort sat down.

“Anyways,” The boy said as he sat down on the chair, “Once, upon a time there was a boy named Harrison, Harrison Gardener. He was an average boy who lived in a normal house, with a loving family, or that was what the papers thought he lived like. He actually lived in a room that was only 4 feet tall and 2 feet wide. The length of his room was only 2 feet so it was always hard to get comfortable. It was about the size of a closet. The people who lived with him didn’t love him, and he didn’t love them back either. It was only fair, if they didn’t love him, why should he?”

“He was always torn between two worlds, the one that he wanted to stay in and the one he had to go to, to be able to go back to the first. He didn’t understand it, he never did. The ruler of the first world always made him go, saying that, “You shall not question me, for I am all knowing,”. Harrison found out that the ruler was full of crap, and then stayed in the first world in secret for a few months. When the ruler had sent his men to check on Harrison, they had found that he wasn’t in the second world. Not to the place the ruler had banished him away to, even if it was for a couple months,”

“Harrison had hid from the ruler and his men for long enough. As soon as he was meant to come back he had revealed himself in front of the ruler, the ruler was absolutely disappointed in him telling him that, “If you shall do this again I will have to take your head,” Harrison was then taken to the ruler’s special quarters to speak with the ruler in private. As Harrison was led up there he could feel only white hot burning rage boiling up in him,”

“As the ruler’s men left the ruler and Harrison alone, per the ruler’s request. Harrison then lashed out, screaming, “Nobody should be held in a cell that small! No child should be subjected to such abuse! Everytime that I go, I am abused, thrown around as if some sort of bloody slave, and so much in fact that I hate you! I hate this! I HATE THEM!” Harrison then teared up right there, too overwhelmed to do much else then have a temper-tantrum. The ruler had remained calm while he was being yelled at, face as still as a statue. He then said, “It is not my fault that they treat you this way, it is only your own, it is your own fault that now the evil gorgon has been released.” The bastard said this with the calmest face he had ever seen,”

“It had made him so angry that he almost forgot to ask about the gorgon that was apparently so bloody important that only Harrison had to suffer. “What gorgon…” he asked in the calmest voice he could manage which wasn’t calm in any sort of sense. The ruler then looked like he was being choked out right there even though there was nobody to do so except Harrison himself. Harrison heard the door open, but continued to look at the cruel ruler.”

“He heard whoever opened the door walk toward himself, but he was too angry to look at the said person. “Hello, Darling, I missed you,” the person said. Harrison went to turn around, but their hands directed him to continue looking at the now stone-turned ruler. Harrison’s hands went to his mouth in surprise, “Your the- the- the-'' Harrison didn’t get to finish. “Yes… I’m the gorgon.” The man said, “Can you keep up?” Harrison closed his eyes remembering the rules of the snake-haired people, The end.”
“Seriously?! Wait, was Harrison petrified? What was that deal with the Ruler?!” Voldemort questioned.

The boy then chuckled, probably from all the questions. “Well, yes, the Ruler was just a massive dickwad for plot, and that’s all I’ve got. I think I would have written more if I wasn’t dying tonight.”

Voldemort sighed he had forgotten about that by the boy’s obviously incredible writing skills, planning, and how to make a great cliff hanger. “Right, I forgot about that, you could make money with that story, yet I think people would only buy your book, because you’re the chosen one.”

“Oh of course that’s why and I am so grateful for that bloody title,” The boy said sarcastically. “The boy who lived! The chosen one! The boy who lies? The unchosen one?”

Voldemort looked at the boy with awkward eyes. “H-harry, I just have one task to ask you for,”

“What is it?” The boy said in a tone that might have showed compassion if in a different life, But right now it seemed like it was a teasing tone.

“Stand up for a moment.” Voldemort commanded, the boy did so.

“Wait, are we finally getting what you came here finally done? Did you finally get bored of me?” Harry almost chuckled out.

Voldemort had brought out his wand. He then stood up from the bed, the bed creaking from the loss of weight.

“I-is that a yes?” The boy asked, but then his body went completely still as if a gorgon had frozen him.

Voldemort had casted a Petrificus Totalus on Harry. He wasn’t going to let this wonderful writer, poet, and probably artist kill himself over things like this. In the end or afterlife would be pointless for the boy. Who would even want to do that willingly? Voldemort had seen it himself; people would cower at the mention of death, and fall to their knees when subjected to such.

“I’m sorry Harry but, I’m not going to allow you to kill yourself.” Voldemort whispered, “Now I see why Dumbledore put you in all of those stupid situations. He was trying to play the hero, Harry. If I’d known better, I would have taken you in your first year. I expected better from him, but I guess if you’re an actor once you’ll always be an actor. Even if it is terribly wrong.”

The boy looked absolutely terrified at those words, like his whole world was shattered. It probably had been, Dumbledore had lived out everyone except himself to call him out for his bullshit. It seemed like Harry had no choice, but to follow Dumbledore. What else was he meant to do? Be ridiculed by the prophet and all that saw him? The boy had closed his eyes trying to hide the tears that spilled. Voldemort picked up the boy without a choice.

“Look, I'm going to take you away from this horrible place since Dumbledore expects you to live here in such vile conditions, not even the orphanage was this bad.” Voldemort whispered, “No wizard should deserve to live in a place like this, except the ones who had subjected it on the innocent.”

The boy opens his eyes and as they do they soften just a bit. It’s enough for the Dark Lord to notice and under the mask he smiles. He opens Harry’s door with a spell. He uses wingardium Leviosa without speaking, lifting Harry’s trunk out. The boy’s other family is still up.

“Harry, do you have anything other than this trunk? Just look up if you do, look down if you don’t.” Voldemort asked.

Chapter Text

The boys went up, and Voldemort lifted the Petrificus Totalus of the boy so he could tell him what he was missing. “My owl, Hedwig, she's downstairs in the kitchen, she’s one of my bestest friends here,”

“Mm, alright, close your eyes, if your relatives see me and you in my arms they will have suspicions.” Voldemort said casting another Petrificus Totalus.

Harry closed his eyes as Voldemort said this, both are now on the stairs. Voldemort can hear Harry’s relatives chatting in the parlor room, or well, living room; it looked like both, a place for entertainment and just family intimacy. Awfully tacky if you ask him. He could see the bird now, just chirping away at the window. Not even noticing the Dark Lord behind her.

“VERNon! THERE’S A WEIRD MAN IN OUR KITCHEN!” The woman in the house screamed, “SHOO, wait- YOU’RE A WIZARD!”

Voldemort then heard a sad creaking of a couch, and a heavy huffing sound, barely sounded like a man more like a freight train low on coal. Then a plump man with sprouting gray hairs, the man himself looked only 30, yet with plenty of stress.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!” The man named Vernon said.

“Damn, no wonder that parlor room looks barely used, nobody likes you enough to go to your bloody house, anyways, after I take the bird, the boy and his belongings, I’ll be out of your thinning hair, which one of you are related to the boy’s mother, neither of you look anything like her.” Voldemort criticized.

“WAIT, YOu magic people are finally taking him? THIS IS THE HAPPIEST I’VE BEEN IN YEARS!” Vernon half-shouted, “WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR TO TAKE THE BIRD AND GO!”

Voldemort rolled his eyes, then looked at this bird named Hedwig, probably the only thing Harry trusted enough in this house to talk to. Especially since these people seemed so happy to see him go. Voldemort should have just let one of his death eaters take Harry years ago.

“Wait, but what about Dumbledore? He told me last year that we have to keep him till at least the boy’s legal age.” The woman which Voldemort realized her name was Petunia, Severus' memories held her young self there, said.

“Dear, Mrs. Petunia Evans Dursley, things change, people die, it’s just that we finally have a place for him to live that isn’t well… not to be an arse, this…” Voldemort said.
“Well, I hope that he never comes back, he reminded me too much of Lily, being so bloody important all the time,” Petunia said, “Thought we could just take the magic out of him.”

“Erhm, well I don’t want to know what that means, Goodbye then you miserable muggles.” Voldemort whispered the last part.

Voldemort then took Hedwig’s cage with his magic, and walked out the back door with Harry, his trunk, and his bird. Voldemort looked back once he was in their garden, and he saw a mini Vernon, who looked like he was about to cry about Harry’s leave.

“Wait! Mr, Could I maybe send him letters? I may have not been the best, but I still want to apologize for everything I did, just one letter, I swear I’ll have it done by tomorrow so you just have to come back once for the letter, I don’t know how to work your guy’s magic mail,” The mini Vernon said.

“I will do it once, and if he wants to continue speaking to you, then I will allow a bird to come once a week.” Voldemort sighed, his patience lacking now.

“Thank you! Wait what do I call you?” The mini Vernon said.

“Just call me, V. V is fine,” Voldemort said.

“Thank you, Mr. V, also can you tell Harry that I’m gonna be writing to him?” The mini Vernon asked.

“I think he already knows, well see you later,” Voldemort says, hinting to the fact Harry was indeed conscious then took off not wanting to answer questions that needed not to be answered.

Voldemort walked out of the Dursley’s back garden and to the front of the house through the gate. He almost forgot that Harry wasn’t actually sleeping, so he just held him. The original plan was just to let go of him after the first turn so the Dursley’s didn’t see him. Nope, he just held onto him, content as can be. After the 9th block, Voldemort looked down to see a very flustered Harry, probably not used to being held like a child. Voldemort just snorted and continued to walk now knowing that the boy was still awake.
Yet, he still pretended that he had no idea of the boy's awareness. Harry was very warm and Voldemort was very cold, not being able make heat himself, since Wormtail had accidently made him cold-blooded. He did not discover this fact until a month after his rebirth. It was a very confusing conversation when he was in bed with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They had forgotten to make a house-elf turn on the fireplace.
Voldemort had sleep-walked. End of story. Anyways, Harry hadn’t had his eyes open when this had happened. Voldemort told himself that he’d ‘wake’ him up after they were far enough away from the house. They were almost near another and worse looking playground than the one Voldemort had been at earlier. He decided this would be the best place to ‘wake’ him up.

“Harry, wake up,” Voldemort said while uncasting the Petrificus Totalus on Harry.

Harry then puffed through his cheeks, “I WAS NOT ASLEEP YOU DRECK! AND YOU PROBABLY KNEW IT TOO DIDN’T YOU!”

Voldemort then dropped Harry onto the grass surrounding the rubbish playground.

“You- eh. Whatever, now what are we doing here? This is like really far away from where the Dursleys live, almost another town over.” Harry said while sitting on the grass.

Voldemort sighed, “Well, I needed to get away from any place where you might be blamed for under age magic, and this seemed like a good place to apparate.”

Harry looked confused, “What’s apparition? I’ve never heard of it,”

Voldemort was surprised, when he was young they would be taught in 5th year, maybe it was because of the war, but still! Leave Dumbledore to be the Headmaster, they said, it’d be fine they said. Voldemort sighed, in disappointment.

“It’s the muggle equaliviaten of teleporting, here, since I honestly don’t want to explain the rest of it, hold my hand,” Voldemort said, “Oh, and hold onto your bird too, I’ll hold your trunk.”

“Alright,” Harry then yawned.

There was then a tight squeeze that was probably unbearable for the poor owl. Being a side-on, on a side-on was absolutely horrid. Once they were in the right place and not being transported miles upon miles away from where they were, Voldemort heard the angry hooting coming from the bird. Only once had Voldemort been a side-on, side-one, and it was absolutely horrible, he actually felt bad for the bird.
“Shhh, shh, shh it’s okay Hedwig,” Harry comforted as the poor bird squawked at her owner.

Voldemort chuckles a bit. She hoots at him too.

“Um, Voldemort we’re just in a random field,” Harry says. “I get that you’re amazing at magic, but are you sure this is where we should be?”

“Yes, my dear, but! Malfoy Manor has no apparition point, so we cannot just get there by appearting directly there or we would have been in a horrible accident. Like us being split in half. And yes, Lucius allows me to live at his manor,” Voldemort says.

“Oh, then how do we get there? Since we can’t just pop in there immediately,” Harry says.

Voldemort then took the boy’s hand again and walked towards the direction of the manor. He swore on his magic that he would never leave Harry back in that hell hole Dumbledore made Harry live in for so, so, long. Harry’s bird would probably kill Voldemort herself if he ever made Harry go back. The bird herself reminded him of a mother or a sister to Harry. The bird was a bloody menace.

“So, why did you pick the Malfoy’s for a place to live?” Harry asked after he regained thought.

“Lucius owed me after he was late to the first D.E meeting, you know the one you were at,” Voldemort said.

“Oh I thought you had your own place, since you’re a Dark Lord and all, guess I was wrong,” Harry said.

“Tch- I do, I just, It’s a bit dirty at the moment.” Voldemort replied

“Then why won’t you clean it?” Harry asked, clearly amused.

“Bit of blood, I inherited it,” Voldemort grinned wickedly.

“Before I question that, you can get blood out with hydrogen peroxide and to get rid of the smell, use lavender cleaning supplies,” Harry replied.

“Wait, where did you learn that from?” Voldemort asked.

“Bloody scar that keeps reopening means bloody clothes, and bloody clothes make people question you, questions equal into angry ‘guardians’ and that means staying in the cupboard or no food for 3 days.” Harry said, “So, how did you ‘inherit’ your manor?”

“Let’s just say in Dark Lord fashion, a bit of a disagreement and murder, there were about 5 people that I will fail to mention,”

“Won’t ask for names just in case I know who they are.” Harry said and then asked, “How old were you?”

“Eh- sixteen or nineteen, doesn’t really matter now,”

“Is your memory going, Voldemort?” Harry teased.

“No! I just grew up faster than everyone else, since everyone around me was absolutely idiots! Age doesn’t matter, as long as you do something great!” Voldemort corrects,

Harry nodded and rolled his eyes. Voldemort was starting to feel stupidly old, like hundreds of years. Voldemort could now feel the Manor coming up, magicially of course. The two go through the barrier so they can now see it.

Harry then exclaims, “Woah! No wonder Malfoy is such a pompous prat!” Voldemort laughs in that moment and not that creepy weird laugh, but a true laugh he would have made when he was younger.

Harry looks at him with a awkward smile on his face. Almost a beaming smile. Holy crap, what is this weird feeling. He’s confused, help. Is Harry squeezing my heart? WHAT IS THIS MAGIC! I HAVEN’T STUDIED IT, NOR EVER SEEN IT!

“Voldemort are you alright?” Harry questions as if he’s not the reason.

“You…you… are- doing this to me! What is thiS!” Voldemort says, “It bloody feels like you’re accioing my heart!”

The boy chuckled, why!? WHy would he do this to me! I thought we trusted each other! THe boy fell to his knees in laughter, WHYYYYYYY!!!!!!????????????????

“HAHA!” Harry laughs out, “Voldemort, Voldemort please tell me you’re joking- cause haha, that’ I think you’re feeling love or something,”
Voldemort frowns, “I don’t believe you! THis cannot be! I have been alive for almost more than 70 years and have never felt this before! OTher than now! Where you are the only wizard that knows of my presence for miles!”

“Oh, you poor, poor soul!” Harry chortles, “I am so sorry,” He then wipes an invisible tear away after the whole laughing fit.

“WELL! How do I make it stop? IT hurts, why does it hurt?” Voldermort wheezes.

“I don’t know! I think it should fizzle out in a few minutes!?” Harry says.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IN A FEW MINUTES!?” Voldemort yelps out, “WE HAVE TO BE INSIDE IN- RIGHT NOW, AND I’M RED AS A TOMATO!”

“I mean being angry normally gets rid of it quickier,” Harry sighs.

“Okay, Then make me angry or something?” Voldemort commanded

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” Harry baited the Dark lord with this tease.

“HARRY IF YOU DON’T I WILL- I WILL MAKE YOU SLEEP IN THE SAME BED AS ME!” Voldemort fumed, “Oh wait- that actually worked,”

“So why was that your go to punishment? That seems like an odd thing to just think off the top of your head,” Harry asked.

Voldemort did not answer, but instead walked past Harry and towards the manor.

“HEY! Don’t leave me here! I don’t know where I’m going!” The boy groaned out while getting up quicker. Harry is pouting when he reaches Voldemort.

“Don’t do that,” Voldemort groans, “Your bloody- pouting, please.”

“Oh, this?” Harry then punctiates it even further, “Sorry,” he then stops pouting completely.

“Thank you,” Voldemort stammers.

They both walk into the overly Slytherin-looking Manor. Even the bloody hedges look like snakes. It still surprised Voldemort on how stupidly pureblood Malfoy’s could be, with their bloodline and their houses. When both Harry and Voldemort walked in, Draco looked in their direction, his jaw dropping. Probably because of the fact that Harry was walking around on his own, and not straightened against Voldemort's side like a prisoner.

Lucius then rushed towards Voldemort with his left arm out, “My Lord, do we need to call a meeting? Since the boy is finally here?”

“No, no not today,” Voldemort responds.

Narcissa is walking into the parlor room, she also sees the boy and Voldemort, as she is holding a vase and drops said vase. The glass shattering all over the floor, making a terribly loud sound.

“Oh! Mrs. Malfoy do you need help with cleaning that up?” Harry almost immediately says after she drops it.

Voldemort pinches the place where his nose used to be, “Harry, you are not a house elf, sorry Narcissa .”

“Uh- it’s- erm alright.” She says as she summons a house elf.

“Voldemort can I go talk to Draco?” Harry asks as Voldemort is about to talk to Lucius about what has happened and this recent discovery.

“Of course you can Harry,” Voldemort says as he can see in the corner of his eye, Lucius paling for whatever reason.

“Anyways, Lucius I have learned of the boy’s situation and as of right now we are changing plans of what we had before. This will only be between us since I am highly sertaan that we have a rat, other than literally , but I do have a feeling like it is Severus.” Voldemort says, “Other then that, I just need to put these things in my room and this will be fine.”

“WHAt do you MEan changes!? It has been the same plan ever since the prophecy was found and heard!? WHat are the changes!? Did you kidnap Potter?! How? I thought we had no idea where he was?” Lucius rambles out.

“Lucius… I mean that we are changing it since the prophecy is now currently broken, and when I was looking through one of the death eaters I heard more of the prophecy that Severus hadn’t told us. The changes are not determined yet, I’m thinking that after that night Dumbledore allowed the boy to hear the full prophecy. Yes, I’m not going into detail into that one, because I don’t wanna. I was told by the boy himself, he wrote a letter to me, that told me to come to watch- nevermind. But the important thing is that we are not killing him or hurting him in any sense. I’ll inform you more later when we are alone,”

Lucius then turned away and walked off. He swore he could hear him scoff. It’ll be your deathday soon, Lucius. Voldemort thought.

Voldemort simply walked to the couch where the two younger boys were at, he wasn’t creeping around he was just making sure these two weren’t being idiots. Since idiots normally sprouted around these two families. Well, he could only say that for the Malfoy’s he hadn’t been around a Potter long enough to tell how stupid they were. If Severus’s memories were anything to go by then they were just smart enough to get out of Hogwarts.
Severus’s memories were a bit altered though, so it could just be him amplifying what he thought of the Potter’s. Well, Voldemort knew that Harry was smarter than his father. Flemont had been smart too, he had a problem with his own hair and he fixed it in the most convenient and easy way he could, Potions.

“So Potter, why did The dark lord bring you here? Did Dumbledore literally give you to him? Or what?” Draco said.

“Malfoy, I would find that none of your bloody business. It’s mine and Voldemort’s,” Harry said

“Oh, well is there any actual reason you wanted to come over here, or were you just looking for some comfort before you die, because I’m not giving you any,” Draco said.
“No, it’s just that I got bored of looking around your house, it is very big and has a big pure blood feel to it, is there any reason why you talked to me first?” Harry asked.

“Eh- no- yes? I mean I barely get to talk to anyone here, so I guess it’s nice to see a familiar face I guess, even if it is yours, Potter,” Draco said his face slightly turning red.

“Oh so, you can talk to me when my friends aren’t here, but you can’t when they are? Isn’t Voldemort a familiar face? Why not talk to him?” Harry said half-jokingly

“His face scares me,” Draco says

“Why do I scare you?” Voldemort says

Draco screams and falls off the couch, “POTTER, WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME HE WAS BEHIND ME?!”

“Is it the snake tongue? The no-nose situation? IS it because I’m bald!?” Voldemort jokes around as he walks to the front of the couch.

Harry’s laughing again at the two of them being absolute idiots. Oh that beatiful smile, that stupid smile. And the feeling was coming back, it didn’t feel like a waterfall this time though, it felt like it was a dripping feeling. Like morning dew falling off of a flower, slowly, but never stopping.

“Voldemort? Are you alright?” Harry said, “You’re looking a little pink?”
“Nope, No I am absolutely fine,” Voldemort says, “I am the Dark Lord Voldemort, no help is needed to me.”

“Alright then,” Harry says, “Anyways Draco, why don’t you talk to your mom, or your dad?”

“They’re always busy, so I just stay in my room and talk to myself. I’m sorry about being rude towards you during school, I just felt like that was what I was supposed to be doing,” Draco says, “ You always have your friends and my friends were already picked out for me, and they’re always so bloody stupid all the time. And you have that Granger girl and I have 2 idiots, who don’t do anything,”

“Well, thank you Draco. You know you could have told me? I normally have no one to talk to during the summer, and I bet I could have gotten Ron to just accept that you were gonna be one of my friends.” Harry said, “Even if they didn’t accept it, we could just meet in Hogsmeade , I used to do that with those two. You remember in your 3rd year when you were attacked by mud, and you saw my face?”

“WAIT THAT WAS YOU!?” Draco says shocked beyond belief. “I GOT SNAPE SO FREAKING MAD AFTER THAT!”

“HEHEhaHA, I’M SORRY!? HE’S BEEN MAD AT ME SINCE MY FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL!?” Harry refutes

“WELL, AT LEAST YOU DON’T HAVE PARENTS ON FIRST NAME BASES WITH YOUR TEACHER!?” Draco says.

“I DON’T HAVE PARENTS!?” Harry says.

“Boys keep your voices down, Lucius might hear us,” Voldemort says.

“Yes, Voldemort,” Harry says.

“So how’d you even get to Hogsmeade? I thought that they had protection charms, so kids without a pass couldn’t get in,” Draco says.

“Okay, that’s rude, and Ron’s older brothers told me how to get it through a secret way. It leads straight to the candy shop.” Harry says.

“Huh, well, how did you only appear as a head?” Draco asked.

“Malfoy you are a bumbling idiot, I was under an invisibility cloak and when your friends started attacking mine I fought back, I just screwed around too long, and accidently pulled it down and showed my face.” Harry says.

Draco laughs, “I thought you were using dark magic to be honest. How long have you had that cloak, anyways?”

“I got it from my dad, and I think my dad got it from my grandfather,” Harry says, “I was gifted it in my first year by Dumbledore,”

“How many charms have you put on it through the years?” Voldemort says joining in the conversation.

“None? Why would I need to? DO I NEED TO?! Cause’ I’ve never charmed it at all,” Harry says worried.

“Well, nevermind it’s not important,” Voldemort says.

Actually it was very important, this cloak could be one of the Deathly Hallows, It’s not that Voldemort wanted them all like Muggles wanted Pokemon, he wanted them all. He read the book when he was younger and only on his 3rd horcrux. He didn’t believe in it before, but now that Harry showed signs of having one of them, even if it was somewhat useless, it could be another piece to becoming the master of death.
He could be even stronger than before, yet it somewhat didn’t seem right to do so now, infinite power, but now he had morals. He had Harry to think about; he did just kidnap, or adopt him out of a horrible house that probably used power over Harry to punish him. Would Harry care about this? Would he know what the Deathly Hallows were, or was this another thing that Dumbledore failed to teach him?
Voldemort stood up and left the boys to go to his room. He had to think about this out loud and he did not want these two boys being wrangled into it. Dumbledore could have just casted a really strong charm onto the said cloak and it still hadn’t worn off. Then that would be at least a 5 year old charm at the minimum. He would have to look at it himself. Harry could have lied about not using charms on it. Yet, that shock sounded so real. Harry was a horrible liar. These weren’t lies, and a 11 year old had a Deathly Hallow. EVEN WORSE, DUMBLEDORE HAD IT FOR A WHILE. Who says he doesn’t have the rest of them?
Wouldn’t that be fun? Knowing that your enemy had or has had all 3 Deathly Hallows at one point. Who had Dumbledore killed for the wand? How many people have been reanimated by that old man? Plus he was such a hypocrite, because you can only get that wand by killing the owner and stealing the wand. THAT JERK! HE HAD SET VOLDEMORT’S WARDROBE ON FIRE FOR STEALING! Voldemort may have trust issues over that, but that does not matter.
Voldemort is looking through Harry’s things looking for the cloak, he finds his books, his wand, and 5 changes of clothes. Was this truly all he had? Only 5 choices, even Voldemort had more when he was younger. He had a few more pairs than Harry and ;even he wanted more clothes than what he had. He had lived through a war, Harry wasn’t in a war he was with horrible people. People who gave him less clothes than an orphan. He didn’t know why he was getting so angry over this, but it just hurt. He had been through the same thing, those horrible muggles did not deserve Harry. Harry deserved the best, aka, Voldemort. Yes, yes he knows that it sounds a bit egomaniacal, but come on this was Voldemort you’re listening to.
Voldemort finds the cloak and checks how good it truly is. And it works better than a new fake-invisibility cloak. Yet, now it just isn’t what he wants to do anymore. It’s not something he wants anymore. He moves away from the trunk after closing it and sits on his bed. Wondering what to do, what can he do? He doesn’t want to take it anymore. It is already in his possession though, in the house. It’s good enough for him. Not many things are good enough for him. Well, other than Harry.
Maybe, Voldemort thinks. I should take him to diagon alley or some other place to get him some more clothes, he should have bought some in his first year other than these robes for school. Yet, it’s just XXL clothes and XL pants that’s in the trunk. He continues to wonder why this got him so pissed off.

“Those people had the money to probably buy whatever that other boy wanted, but they couldn’t afford to buy Harry clothes? What in hell is wrong with them? Could they seriously not have enough money to buy Harry maybe a few new shirts? Not even one?” Voldemort vented to the wall, “I’m taking that boy to get new clothes after I visit his cousin,”

Hedwig then hoots in agreement. Aggressive agreement he might add.

“Oh, how long have you been there?” Voldemort questions.

She pokes her beak at the lock, Voldemort hadn’t noticed it before and she looked like she was gonna either break the cage or squawk until Voldemort took the hint. Silly bird, he then walks over to her cage and opens it. She hoots, a thank you.

“You're welcome, I guess I can see the appeal of having you around, you’re funny,” Voldemort says.

She jumps onto Harry’s trunk and pecks around the edge of it. Does she want to talk about the clothes or does she want the treats that are in there? Maybe a mix of both, she hoots at him again.

“Oh do you want to talk to me about that again? Sure, just get off of that trunk for a moment, do you want the treats too?” Voldemort chats along.

The bird obeys what he says and he opens the trunk, revealing two treat bags. Okay, that’s cute, the boy cares about his owl. She hoots once again.

“We get it you’re impatient! BUt you can wait!” Voldemort says.

She hoots once again, testing him. He then pulls the bag out of the trunk and she waddles toward him. Voldemort then walks backward to the bed, also testing her.

“Come up here,” He says once on the bed.

She starts flying up to the bed frame, looking down on him. He opens the bag and now she's right by his side.

“So, you know first-hand how those people were. What’s your opinion on them?” He says with his hand in the bag of treats.

She hoots in a low tone, probably hating the Dursley’s more than Harry hated them himself, she gets handed a treat. She then hoots happily and takes it.

“Anyways,” He puts the bag on the bed letting Hedwig eat as many as she wants, since this is probably gonna be a long rant, “Due to the lack of decoration in Harry’s room I’m going to assume that he either has been moved in there recently or they haven’t allowed him to ever decorate the room they’ve lent him. Harry seems like he would rebel against that rule though, yet they don’t have another smaller room they would have given him. Hedwig, where did the boy sleep? I honestly can’t think of another place they could have made him sleep. OH MY MErliN! DiD THEY MAKE HIM SLEEP IN THE KITCHEN!?”

She hoots quickly after she finishes swallowing. She then jumps off the bed and flys over to the wardrobe in the room.

“THEY MADE HIM SLEEP IN THE OTHER BOY’S CLOSET?!” Voldemort gasps.

She hoots again yet, the tone is more sarcastic, he has no idea how an owl can be sarcastic she just is. Maybe it's close enough for her, but still the wrong answer.

Chapter Text

The door opens and Harry stands there menacingly staring at both the man and the bird.

“What are you two doing in here?” Harry questions.

“We’re being worsties obviously,”Voldemort answers, and Hedwig hoots behind him, mocking him maybe.

“Oh well, Mrs. Malfoy wanted me to tell you that dinner was ready,” Harry said.

“Okay, thank you, I’ll be down in a minute please tell her that she doesn’t have to wait for my arrival they should honestly just eat when they feel like it,” Voldemort said, “One time I fell asleep and they waited for hours until they sent the small one up and I scared the crap out of him when that happened.”

Harry laughs at the joke, it make Voldemort smile a little bit. He’s just glad that he likes his stories.

“Okay well, see you down there,” Harry said, leaving the door open as he left. He was going to have to teach some manners to that boy, yet it was okay, he probably didn’t know what the preference was at the Malfoy's house.

Voldemort sighed and looked at Hedwig again.

“Yes, we are now worsties and you cannot hoot your way out of that nickname,” Voldemort said.

She just hooted at him, clearly enjoying the nickname. Well, at least somebody apperaties his work, and not just in fear for their lives.

“Well, I’ll see you later, when does he feed you anyways?” V0ldemort asked.

She then flew directly at his hand to peck at it to make him leave.

“Fine, fine!” Voldemort then decided to leave lest he come out of his own bedroom with bruises and blood everywhere.

He decides to speed walk the halls, quicker that way. It also makes his cloak flow dramatically, which just always makes him feel better. I mean how couldn’t it, you feel all powerful by a gust of wind.

"Well I'm sorry you're not giving me many hints," Voldemort pouted

Hedwig hooted at him once again.

"I thank you, you seem like you've been trying to protect Harry for a while. Also, I'm sorry for seeming stupid enough to hunt him. I just didn't understand," Voldemort says. "You seem very smart though, could you be an amaginis? No, no probably not,"

She looked at him confused and she flew back over to the bed to continue eating treats. She is a very good owl. If she ever gets hurt, Voldemort is going to kill the person who hurt her, no one messes with his owl bestie. Voldemort chuckles at that. 'Owl bestie'? Really? No, no she was his… Hooter in crime? No that also sounded stupid. Owl knight? Well then why would the king protect her? Yes, Harry is either the queen or prince. Owl knightress. Yes. That is the right word.

He gets up from his bed and leaves Hedwig once again. She seems content enough to be alone by herself. He walks down the Hall once again, wanting to go back to Harry. He didn't really understand why the Hallways here were so long; they just were good for thinking, he thought. Maybe that's the reason for these unreasonably long hallways. Yes, that seemed like a good enough answer for him, maybe he should ask Lucius next time he sees him why the Hallways were so long, No maybe he shouldn't. It would make him seem like a fool who doesn't understand why Hallways were always long. Yet, not every hall is long, it could be only 10 feet. Some were longer than 30 feet like in Hogwarts. Why was he even thinking of this? He thought. This was one of the stupidest things he's ever had a thought about. Maybe he was just thinking like this because he needed to distract himself.

Because he knew that if he was going back to Harry then he'd be stupid. Stupid in love, something that he hated to feel, but hated not feeling it. It was stupid. It was like a villain and a hero. If you hate someone then you need to love them just a little bit or you don't really hate them. Yet this wasn't a story, this was real life, and Voldemort had things to do other than be like a crushing school girl buying her crush everything they'd ever want.

Nope that wasn't Voldemort at all. Definitely not regretting all of his choices from the day the boy was born, nope not at all. Voldemort was not a girl. Not a girl with a strange crush, not a girl with a crush that seemed to brighten the room every time he stepped in the room. Not at all. Voldemort was a Homicidal maniac that would not rest until he got what he wanted. That's definitely what Voldemort always wanted to be in everyone's eyes.

As he turned into the dining room, he noticed that everyone was actually eating. As per what he was complaining about to Harry. Despite it not being normal, it felt right. He never saw them eat while he was walking into the room. But it reminded him of how people would be around him, when he was younger. When he was less important. When he was a 17 year old boy with big dreams, terrible but great dreams. The only time people stopped and stared was because they thought he was attractive, but now? There were no eyes on him.

The eyes were on Harry, they're on Harry because he was telling one of his stories. The story that was probably true, just the name is what changed. It was about his abuse at the Dursleys. This time it was about some poor kid getting their hand shoved onto a burning pan. He could see why Harry used these stories to vent his frustrations, his pain, and his memories. They were used to show how messed up people could be. They were used to show how easily you could be dropped onto someone who could be a bigger danger than the people that took you in.

It was horrible, he thought. But it was also entertaining how everyone at the table listened with a vague interest. Draco listened intensely, not touching his food, and his mother, listening, but not watching Harry. Lucius could not hide what he thought about the stories, you could tell when he didn't like a part, or when he could relate to it. Funnily enough, he could relate to Harry. Despite being total opposites. Living in different houses, their abuses are the same. They were abused because someone was jealous that they didn't get something, be it magic or being the head of the house.

Harry continued telling a story, while Voldemort got his food that looked like it wasn't made by Narcissa. More so that it was made by a house elf, not that her cooking was bad, it's just like he preferred it made by a house elf. Voldemort didn't feel the nervousness in the room that he normally did when he entered. It felt warm, like an emotion, like the natural warmness of leather, and Voldemort liked it. It's like what the orphans explained, what having a family felt like. Well the ones who could remember the families that they had and were taken away from them so quickly that it wasn't funny.

Did Harry know what it felt like? Or did Voldemort take that away from him too quickly too. He was sure that Harry hadn't even known them, only heard stories. From the people that he lived with since he was 1 and 1/2 years old till he was 11 years old. From the people that heard it over and over again, getting it engraved in their brains to get it right on how Voldemort was defeated. Did he figure the feeling out from one of his friends? Or did he feel too outlandish to be part of their family?

Voldemort sat down next to Harry, not interrupting him. Just staying a bystander for now, enjoying how Harry portrayed the story. His words made it seem like he was showing it not telling it, Voldemort would have believed that Harry was an actor, by how he acted and how he portrayed his entire traumatic experiences in front of bystanders that had no part in it. Harry was telling a story about drowning, about a girl who couldn't get out of the lake because of a rock. Voldemort guessed that it had been in a pool and that the rock was floaty with a person on it that wouldn't move. Maybe Harry had a fear of swimming, despite going in the tournament two years before.

Through this fact, Voldemort could feel eyes training back on him. Already knowing that they were Lucius'. Voldemort looked at him and then looked at Harry, trying to put the spotlight back on the story teller, not on an extra character in the story the boy was telling. Voldemort missed Nagini.

Lucius was looking back at Harry by now, told by Voldemort to look at him despite not saying a word. It was just a shared understanding between the two. Noticeably Harry had stopped storytelling, but the boy needed to eat. Voldemort glanced at Harry just in case something was actually wrong, but everything was fine. For once. Voldemort felt… satisfied.

Chapter Text

How long had it been since he'd felt that way? He didn't know, honestly. Maybe the last time when he didn't have any responsibilities, which was…

Was? Well.. he always had been a leader. First being a wizard in a muggle orphanage, and then at Hogwarts while he was a half-blood in Slytherin, and then being a perfect in Slytherin house, and then finally being himself, as Voldemort.

Voldemort picked at his food. He was sad about that fact. Maybe if he hadn't been a wizard maybe things would have turned out better. Or not. Who knows. Voldemort then felt Lucius' eyes piercing him again, and he looked up.

It wasn't Lucius', it was Draco. Draco looked somewhat concerned and confused. Which could be due to the fact it's not everyday Voldemort brings home the boy who lived. But hadn't Harry already been over that fact with him already? Voldemort excused himself from the table to go into the parlor room. And he then heard a moment later someone else excusing themselves which he assumed was Draco.

Voldemort was standing near a column in the Parlor room waiting for him, and as he saw Draco come in he noticed that he cringed the tiniest bit.

Voldemort raised what would have been an eyebrow, but instead it was the bone over his eye, questioning him without speaking.

"Sorry, I- just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for saying that your face was scary," Draco starts to slur out, "But do you really need it to look like…"

He waves his hands around like he was trying to figure out something nicer to say. Rather than a monster or a Baskilisk.

"THAT!?" Draco motions, "Honestly you would have gotten more death eaters if you just looked like you did when you were sixteen."

Voldemort smirked, "Well… let's just say that if I didn't turn into this," he motions to himself, "I would probably get more teenage girls that were not interested in fighting for purebloods and all that I stand for."

"Oh," Draco said, "But like… where is your nose? Like, did you chop it off? Was that before or after your first death? WAS THAT DURING?"

Voldemort did not understand why these bullshit questions were coming up now. What he could also not explain is actually where his nose went. He had no idea, because in Harry's first year he had it and then in his fourth year it just poofed! Gone, missing, Dumbledore was lucky that he didn't make his nose a horcrux, because even he didn't know where it was.

"Draco, to be completely honest. I have no fucking idea," Voldemort said. "Was there anything else you wanted to tell me or are we just going to quibble on with the stupid nose jokes, because I can take yours just as easily as mine has dissapeared,"

Draco looked like a deer in headlights.

"That was a joke, I'm not going to take your nose, it's far too quaint anyway,"

Honestly sometimes Voldemort couldn't tell if he was talking about his pecker or his actual nose.

"Alright, I'm guessing we are finished here and as long as your mother and father are not killing Harry at this moment everything will be fine," Voldemort said.

"Concerning… I'm pretty sure they wouldn't do that even if you commanded them to, okay maybe my father would but… no,"

Both walked back into the Dining room together, and sat at their respective seats. Harry was now telling a story that seemed similar to one Voldemort had heard when he was a young adult. Lucius' whispered in Draco's ear, probably asking him about what he was doing. And Draco shooed his father off. Draco seemed happier than he had been earlier.

Good for the boy, great. Voldemort couldn't focus on the story nor his food so he didn't excuse himself and left for Harry and his room.

Alright, Voldemort may have lied. He was focused on something. Harry. Of course. It was always Harry.

Harry was actually a really good person and he couldn't believe that he had been trying to kill him for the past what… almost 2 decades? And to prove what? That he was an actual asshole? Maybe if Voldemort had gotten to know him better then he would have understood that his plan was not exactly what should happen, no matter what some prophecy said.

He knew that he'd been over this fact before, but… he felt the need to review it again. How many people had he killed that would have turned out like Harry? How many parents did he kill or torture and had made tiny little Harry's that didn't get the title?

What Voldemort didn't expect was Harry jogging alongside him.

"Voldemort, why the bloody hell do you walk so fast?" Harry said, still continuing to jog to catch up with him.

Voldemort looked surprised, was he really walking that fast? "Oh, right, I was just tired and you know how long these halls are,"

"Actually no I don't, and last time I checked you don't need to sleep," Harry pointed out to Voldemort. "So what are you actually doing?"

Voldemort tightened his jaw, honestly he had no idea other than the fact that he felt a bit uncomfortable in the dining room. Voldemort looked down, not exactly sure what to say.

"Okay, we can talk about it later," Harry said, opening the bedroom door.

The next scene was horrific, Nagini was back and Hedwig was making a mess out of the pillows! Feathers EVERYWHERE! And it looked like Hedwig and Nagini had been trying to make a fort and then started a war.

"NAGINI!" and "HEDWIG!" were both yelled in unison.

Hedwig and Nagini stopped what they were doing, Hedwig dropping the only good pillow back onto the bed and Nagini slithering down from the bedpost.

"NAGINI? WHAT THE FUCK?" Voldemort said.

She hissed back, "I got bored and this owl is actually quite fun,"

"Bad Hedwig, I love you but now we have to replace everything! Are you okay? Is this what you were planning to do with Dudley's room?" Harry could be heard across the room consulting his familiar.

Voldemort sighed, maybe he shouldn't be as commanding as he had been with Nagini. "Sorry, Nagini.." Nagini's head popped out of the blanket that she was now hiding in.

"Did you just say Sorry?" Nagini slithered out.

"Yes."

She then quickly rose around him, tightening around him like a rope. "Who are you and what have you done with the Dark Lord!"

"Nagini, I'm the only 'human' that can talk to snakes, so I'm pretty sure it's still the Dark Lord." Nagini loosened, and then fell slowly toward the floor. "Well other than Harry I think,"

"What do you mean? Do you mean that the boy can speak in our tongue?" Nagini said.

"Nagini I did not give you grammar lessons for you not to use them," Voldemort said, "But yes I think he can, when I was going to go pick him up there was another snake there that said a boy like Harry had been speaking to him,"

"Ooh okay! Aw wait, does that mean I don't get to speak to you when he's in the rroom?"

"No, you can, I'll tell you what happened later okay?"

Nagini nodded. And then slithered away somewhere else.

"Voldemort, do you need me to go get new pillows? I am so sorry about Hedwig," Harry bumbled out of his mouth.

Voldemort shook his head and took out his wand. "Reparo," he said simply, "Harry, need you forget that Wizards have wands for a reason?"

"Oh, right," Harry said, "Damn it Hermione, why'd you always have to be right?"

"What?" Voldemort laughed out.

"Friend from school, Hermione Granger… Draco mentioned her earlier." He said, "Every time after summer she uses reparo on my glasses because I forget about that damned spell, and my glasses always seem to break somehow."

Voldemort hummed, using his wand to put the blankets back onto the bed.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why do you have a bed if you don't sleep?"

"Comfort, and sometimes for trying to seem normal."

"Oh okay, well. I'm gonna go to sleep," Harry said.

"Okay, good night Harry,"

"Good night Voldemort," Harry mumbled out.

Voldemort turned back around and he saw Harry already under the covers like he owned it. Which was half the truth. He probably must be so tired, which would be understandable in his place. Harry was right about not being able to sleep. He could, he just didn't need to. Voldemort was feeling somewhat tired, so he climbed into bed on the opposite side of Harry. He then fell incredibly quickly asleep.

----------------

When he woke up there was something on top of him and he didn't open his eyes yet and rolled over on his side. Pulling whatever it was closer to him.

What happened yesterday? Voldemort's head was a bit fuzzy from sleeping. Hopefully this wasn't Malfoy's bed again. That would be an hectic thing to wake up to, again. Hm… Harry Potter sent him an envelope the day before yesterday right? Hm..

Wait. Voldemort opened his eyes, spotting black hair and the skinny boy in his bed. Holy shit, right how did he forget about that. He had saved the boy from his own death. And… found out why Malfoy's boy avoided him so often.

Voldemort let go of Harry and scooted back onto his side. What time was it anyways?

"Accio, clock," Voldemort said with a raspy voice.

The clock flew toward him and it showed that it was… 8:37. Great. He still had time to sleep in or hide the evidence that he had held the boy. What Voldemort didn't notice is that Harry was still holding on to him. Damn it, you golden boy.

Voldemort decided that the best course of action would be to get out of bed and just carry Harry around, he still got to sleep and Voldemort didn't have to let go of the boy.

Chapter Text

Easy, he was a moveable heater. Alright, maybe he shouldn't say that about Harry. Voldemort stood up holding the boy like how a baby holder would hold a baby against you.

Now what should he do? Knowing the Malfoy's and the time of year they wouldn't be awake for another 2 hours. Maybe, Lucius would be up later, but that's beside the point. He decided to walk out into the hallway, the tiled floor chilling his feet. Voldemort never noticed how intricate the walls of the manor were, with chiseling that could have taken a muggle years, but only taking a wizard a swish and a half.

Maybe he should head to the kitchen to try to cook something. Or maybe the library? He hadn't been there since… before he had turned bald? Okay, well there was at least a 40 year gap where he wasn't as bald as an egg, but that would be at least a decade? Had anyone else been in there or had it been left to rot? Hidden from visitors' eyes, in shame of being a death eater after the war.

He wouldn't put it against Lucius anyways, if he had something from his father he'd do the same thing. Anyways, Voldemort decided he would cook something for the Malfoy's and Harry. Voldemort lifted Harry up a bit, just making sure that he wasn't going to fall.

The kitchen lay clean and a mix of dark marble and green hints paint on the cupboards. Something that the Malfoy's had decided before Draco was born, but after Sr. Malfoy had died. It wasn't the Slytherin color, more of a chartreuse, it kind of made Voldemort jealous. It looked great in this section of the house. Voldemort let Harry down onto a chair in the kitchen, keeping him there because… uh.

Because he could. Now what was he going to make? He could try to make Eggs Benedict, but it had been a long while since he had made something like that, and plus he hated eggs. He couldn't just toast bagels and say that was breakfast.

"Accio, cookbook," Voldemort commanded, and the four separate books flung themselves at him. Voldemort only caught three, the final one on the island in the middle of the cooking area. "I didn't mean four and you know that!"

The cookbook was opened to a recipe that was called Treacle Tart? It was described to slightly taste like molasses and it was like a pie? That sounded too much like a dessert food. The book then flipped again, spinning toward the front and then stopping again. This one didn't have a name and it was on a piece of scratch paper, but it seemed incredibly simple. Which he could slightly remember from his, not really a childhood, but more so pre-puberty age. It was a food that he could make with the rations that the orphanage had. Eggs, bread, and some type of meat. Or most likely bacon, or sausage. It was more so of an American Breakfast, Voldemort had learned a while later from his pre-puberty age, but he still liked it.

Yet. He wasn't feeling like eating that. It sounded too plain and… well boring and too easy to make. It would just seem like he'd been in there for a couple of minutes. And he wanted it to seem like he cared without putting effort in. But actually… maybe he should make the stupid American Breakfast. No. No. He shouldn't. He couldn't decide on what to make, so he left the kitchen for a moment to take a breath.

That's when he heard someone walking out of their room and pitter-pattering over to the kitchen. Voldemort dipped his head into the kitchen, and it was Narcissa. She was boiling water in an electric tea pot. It was a… recently new invention that Voldemort didn't really like ever since he burned his hand inside of it thinking it was a normal pitcher. Ugh. That was not a funny thing to watch. Narcissa looked over to Voldemort, who was contemplating talking or leaving.

"Hello, My Lord. What are you doing up, so early? I would have assumed that you wouldn't get out of bed until at least 11," Narcissa said, opening and closing the cupboard that held tea packets.

Voldemort bit his lip. "I wanted to try to make breakfast, but I couldn't decide on what I should make,"

She raised her brow, "Really? Well what were you stuck on?"

"I was stuck on Eggs, Toast and Sausage or 'Treacle Tart?'" Voldemort said, unsure.

"Oh. Well, do you know what Harry likes?" She said pouring the hot water into a tea cup.

"I actually don't know what he likes but I would assume something sweet from how his relatives treat him," Voldemort said.

The two of them heard the other teenager in the house yawn, and then say, "Harry likes Treacle Tart, you should see him in the Great Hall when they serve them, it's absolutely hilarious,"

"Huh, why do you watch him?" Voldemort asked, raising his brow bone.

Draco then ducks out of the kitchen like he had just said a terrible secret. Wait a minute… is Draco ga-

"Alright so should we start on making that Treacle Tart?" Narcissa asked.

"Yeah, we should." Voldemort said and then asked, "do you know how to?"

She laughed nervously, "Nope!"

"Do you wanna get it delivered instead of blowing up the kitchen by accident?" Voldemort asked, amused at the situation.

"Definitely, I'll go get one of the house elves." Narcissa said.

What Harry didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Honestly Voldemort didn't think this kitchen had been used by the Malfoy's except to make truly simple things. The rest of the kitchen, so about 30 feet by 20 feet, was for the house elves. Voldemort just hoped that Harry didn't like to cook.

About 20 minutes later was when Breakfast was served. The house elf had gone out and gotten a breakfast meal from a nearby shop. (Either that meant they stole from the Weasley's window or, they actually went to a shop,) ((but Mrs. Weasley's pies were so good, so maybe it was a mix of both.)) Harry was still sleeping in the chair that Voldemort had left him in. He had fallen onto the table so they had to get rid of his plate and then put it back in front of him instead of under him.

Harry nor Lucius woke up. So as Draco walked into the kitchen he shook Harry awake.

His eyebrows rose, and he opened his eyes confused about where he was. Which is something Voldemort would do if he was in the same situation as Harry.

"Ohhhh- fuck," Harry said while blanking out into space.

"Is that an Oh fuck, I messed up and I'm still alive or something else?" Voldemort asked.

"Uh….. yeah, and no." Harry said, talking with his hands frantically. "I mean yes I'm still alive, but I'm not sure I messed up! This is actually way better than most things that have happened to me!"

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "We'll talk about this after breakfast. Now eat, you will need it, if you don't already,"

"What for?" At that point the Malfoy's had left their dining room. "I don't remember you saying anything about planning anything,"

"Well since I snooped around yesterday and noticed that none of your clothes fit you, I'm deciding to take you out to get clothes. Ones that actually fit you." Voldemort said, "and I can tell that they were never bought for you, they have stains all over them and I've seen how you eat,"

"Wha- why do you watch me eat?" Harry asked.

"It was just something that I noticed, you never get crumbs on anything and you don't drop your food on your clothes," Voldemort said, "and plus your cousin wears the same size as you,"

Harry nodded and then started eating, looking away from Voldemort. Which confused Voldemort, but Voldemort decided to stand up and walk to his room to change clothes and drink some Polyjuice potion. He didn't know who it was, probably some muggles. Bellatrix bought it for him a while ago, while being her creepy self. Which was a regular occurance, now what should Voldemort wear? It's not like he wasn't gonna skip looking good today. Okay that was a lie, Voldemort knew that he sometimes/mostly looked terrible, but he'd like to look like something or someone that Harry would like and understand. Like Dumbledore, well.. not Dumbledore, but like McGonagall. She is a good person and she seems like she would be loyal. Expressly to Hogwarts.

Voldemort downed a bottle of Polyjuice while he thought. Would he have to give Harry one too? Since it seems like Dumbledore wouldn't want Harry to be out of the muggles' reach. So he decided to take a Polyjuice potion for Harry too. Hopefully he won't fight him. Voldemort looked at a mirror seeing who he looked like, and… he looked like himself when he was younger. Minus the brown eyes, they were replaced with blue ones. Huh. Hopefully nobody would accidentally think of him as himself.

That was a weird sentence to think about.

Voldemort made his way down back to the dining room, but Harry wasn't there. Voldemort assumed that Draco must have taken him to his room. So Voldemort decided to walk all the way over to Draco's room, in the left wing. He swore if that blonde stole Harry again he was going to yank his head off, by his platinum blonde hair.

Voldemort opened Draco's door without knocking and then heard the ferret scream.

"AHH, I'M NAKED, PLEASE LEAVE!"

Voldemort quickly closed the door, luckily not seeing anything of the pubescent teen's… uh. Parts?

"Sorry Draco, but uh do you know where Harry is?" Voldemort asked.

"Uh yeah, he went to the library. He asked me where it was," Draco said, his voice higher than a chipmunk whose parachute won't open.

Voldemort then left quickly not wanting to put molesting children on his already large list of crimes.

When he got to the library which was really just a large walk-in closet that held books. Harry was there facing the opposite direction from the door, reading a book. He hummed as an introduction.

Voldemort sat in front of Harry. "Who are you?" Harry suddenly asked.

"Harry it's Voldemort, I just took a Polyjuice potion and I need you to get dressed, and also take one," Voldemort said.

"Oh, okay," Harry said and then he looked confused, "but, uh.. where is the bedroom from here?"

Chapter Text

Voldemort then realized that he hadn't really helped Harry around the house to find the right rooms. And Harry had probably been wandering around trying to find their room when he found the library and stayed in here.

"Right, sorry," Voldemort said. "MALFOY! MAY HARRY BORROW A PAIR OF CLOTHES?"

Both Harry and Voldemort heard Draco rushing down the hallway, now dressed in muggle clothes with no shoes on. He was holding a red shirt and trousers with a lot of pockets. Which could be assumed to be named cargo pants.

"Yeah, aren't my parents still asleep or something? Maybe you shouldn't yell?" Draco said as he mildly cringed he then gave Voldemort the clothes and left.

Voldemort rolled his eyes as Draco left. Such attitude from such a spoiled child. Voldemort handed Harry the clothes and he left the library to give Harry privacy. Nobody except Harry was in there, so he would be fine.

After a few moments, a boy with black straight hair and black eyes came out of the room with a red shirt and black trousers that were a little long on him. It was Harry. He had taken the Polyjuice potion while in the library.

"Voldemort, I look like Snape." Harry pouts.

"Well, that should be a compliment. Becauseee.. He’s my second in command." He smiles with his teeth hidden.

Harry rolls his eyes and picks a rubber band from the ground and puts his now shoulder length hair in a ponytail. Voldemort thinks it's silly that he would take a discarded rubber band from the ground like that to put his hair up. But he assumes it's something normal, he wouldn’t know, he didn’t usually have hair.

"So are we going to go or are you just going to stare at me like a creep?" Harry suddenly blurts out and Voldemort looks away.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but anyways yes we shall go, my boy." Voldemort says as he takes Harry's hand and apperates to a new clothing store.

It's not in Diagon Alley but it is a wizarding robing shop in France. Voldemort had been here a few times. Dumbledore actually introduced him to this place. The only few nice things Dumbledore has ever done for Voldemort.

"Are we still in the UK or at least Scotland?" Harry asked simply. It was an honest question, because knowing his background he had probably not been farther than Hogwarts’ radius.

Voldemort shakes his head in disagreement. It's still in Europe at least? So it's better than nothing.

Voldemort takes the boy's hand and leads him into the shop. "Alright Harry, you will call me as.. Oliver and.. I shall call you.. Harrison.. alright?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Yes, Oliver." Harry was definitely not taking this seriously.

The shop had been redecorated from the last time he'd been in there. Instead of the bright colors it was now neutral colors and more empty space and more fitting areas. There were more chandeliers the last time Voldemort was here. Must have been a renovation in the past ten years, how sad.

"Now, Harrison, what would you like? You can pick from a selection from over there and they will tailor it to your size. Alright?" Voldemort points at a clothing rack filled with jackets, shirts, long sleeves, skirts, pants, dresses, and coats.

Harry nods and walks over to it and looks through it and takes a few items that seem like it would be something Harry would like. Harry pulls out a grey tee, a red knitted sweater and a pair of jeans that seemed to be highrise.

Voldemort is happy with what Harry chose. "Very good Harrison. Those remind me of what your friend wore the only time I saw her."

Harry looks at him surprised. "You've seen Hermione? I was sure that they were on the other side of the Ministry of Magic!"

"Draco had seen her in his memories and so has Lucius. I was curious, so.. I asked to look through their minds for just a little bit." It was a little awkward about how he explained it.

"...are you proud of that punch she gave Malfoy in my third year?" Voldemort definitely remembers that memory and it makes him laugh.

"Definitely Harrison. I actually had a girl like that in my classes as a third year.” Voldemort is very fond of how Harry's personality has changed since he first picked him up. He is very happy about it.

Harry sits next to Voldemort on the bench they're waiting on. And he leans against Voldemort's shoulder. Voldemort notices how light of a touch it is and he's happy about it. He likes being touched by Harry. It's.. something that is therapeutic to Voldemort now, it’s always been a pulsating feeling, but now it’s… nice and not painful. It seems like this place is mostly slow, minus the actual line.

"So.. Harrison.. why did you pick those?" Voldemort asks as Harry makes the hangers wet with his sweaty teenager hands.

"Oh well, Oliver I picked these because this is the type of stuff that I.. never got because Dudley would always manage to rip them. I've only ever had one of these in my size.." Harry says happily, and also gives Voldemort more of an idea of how bad his family life was.

"Really?" He thinks for a moment. "Well.. you should pick more clothes because I'm getting you an entire new closet of clothes."

Harry looks absolutely shocked. "Seriously? Wait really?" Harry seems so happy even if this is a tiny thing that Voldemort could do for him.

Harry then hugs Voldemort and stands up to find more outfits. Voldemort pauses and he's absolutely.. stunned.. Harry willingly hugged him. It.. made his face turn red. Absolutely red. Voldemort was glad that he made both of them take a polyjuice potion because if he looked like his usual self he would be even more red.

Harry pulls away from the man and he smiles. He then walks over to another clothing rack to look at some more clothes that would be comfortable for him. Voldemort was still shell-shocked that he was hugged. He was absolutely happy.

Harry was taking a while and Voldemort just curled into himself and was smiling brightly. Very brightly. He was so.. so.. happy. It felt like he was shot with adrenaline and then kissed. He was having butterflies and he felt high. He felt high on that small effort of affection. Sure he had held Harry close to him, but this was indeed different. Because Harry did it. Harry Potter himself engaged in it. He did it himself. He was so happy.

Voldemort notices Harry touching a gold necklace that looked more like a choker rather than something a boy his age would wear. But Voldemort noticed the longing in his eyes. Voldemort recalled that longing he used to have before wearing bracelets was commonplace for men.

Voldemort stands and he walks over to said choker and gently looks at the price tag. Who was he kidding? He was absolutely getting it for him.

Voldemort takes it off the stand and Harry looks at him confused, Voldemort just smiled as he took it over to the receptionist.

"Thank you. I appreciate this." Harry quietly says.

The line had been short earlier and now the wait was over and the fitter was to fit Harry. Harry looked a little anxious.

"Harrison Ford? And Oliver Ford?" The receptionist called.

"Ah, thank you! That's us.” Voldemort said.

"Right this way, Mr. Ford’s.” She said as she led them to a fitting room. “I will get my fitter over here in a moment.”

She leaves and Voldemort is shocked by the lady they just talked to screaming at the fitter. “JEsSICA! IF YOU WENT ON ANOTHER BREAK WHILE WE STILL HAVE CUSTOMERS IN THE STore I WILL NOT HESITATE TO Fire YOU!”

Said Jessica appears behind her boss and smiles, “Sorry boss, I was sorting out our fabrics again. Marie keeps organizing them wrong." Jessica waves at the two and she walks in. "And you must be Harrison. Nice to meet you two."