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Chapter Text

To the Weasley Family,

This is Harry, writing, and I am of sound mind and body - or as sound as I can be, considering what has happened. Remus will add his piece at the end. I’m okay. I’m… alive. I know you don’t really understand what happened, and it’s not really safe for me to explain it, both for my own safety and… his. 

I’m not fully human. I’m… more of an alchemical creation than a human being, and I always have been, since the night Voldemort killed my parents, when I was born. Guess I’m kind of the youngest child, if you still want me-

I am a piece of Voldemort. The original Harry Potter died that night. You’ve only ever known me .

And Voldemort is protective of his own life, and he considers me a part of that life. At least he’s not trying to kill me anymore, I guess.

There’s a lot of things I can’t say, and I understand if none of you guys want to be friends with me anymore, but… knowing what I know about my own existence, it has become clear to me that Dumbledore wants me dead.

There was a monitoring spell on me, which should have alerted him that I was in mortal danger. It has been removed now, but it lingered on the body even when I did not. I should not have died, unless he wanted me to be dead.

I was being fed an obscure potion called ‘Tears of Hekate’ which is a magical suppressant, by my relatives. They were muggles. I don’t know where they sourced it. This is why my magic couldn’t fight back against my uncle.

On a happier note, I want to just. Thank you guys all for being my friends and family these past five years. You’ve made my life so much easier and worth living. I don’t know if any owls will reach me here, and it’s not really safe for you to send a response anyhow, but… know that I love you all dearly and I will keep writing.

It might take a few months, but you are my family and I want you to be a part of my life even if it means sneaking around.

Voldemort is delivering this letter for me. I know you’re all firmly on the side against him, and I’m not going to ask you to change that, but… he was insane. 

He’s not insane anymore. I’m not going to expect him to suddenly be kind, but he is far more rational and isn’t doing the mindless violence anymore. My presence balances him out. He can think clearly and reason in ways he couldn’t before.

I… probably won’t be coming back to Hogwarts. It’s not safe there with Dumbledore in control, and Voldemort wants me safe above all else. Remus will be teaching me, mostly, along with Voldemort and Nagini and maybe some Death Eaters.

I don’t know what my life is going to look like, but I know I’m going to be alive to see it, which is something I didn’t think before.

It wasn’t a surprise to learn that I was supposed to die to defeat Voldemort. The Boy Who Lived, a Martyr to the end, right? I suppose that’s why he always awarded House Points for doing reckless stunts to save people. Positive reinforcement.

I suppose you’re definitely gonna show this letter to Dumbledore, but I ask that you don’t. Please.

Anyway, I love you all so much, and here is Remus.

-Harry

Arthur, Molly, kids…

This is crazy. Harry’s completely taken in by whatever lies Voldemort has fed him. I can’t get through to him at all. I’m starting to even believe some of the things they’re saying. Being isolated is getting to my head.

I’m staying, not that I have a choice, but I am staying for Harry. I was taken by happenstance but I’m now his only chance of freedom one day. I’m going to keep fighting for him, I promise.

We’re in a - [a gap in the letter where the ink has been removed]

Maybe that will help you find us?

They’re getting me wolfsbane, at least, so there’s no risk of me hurting Harry.

It feels like Harry’s a completely different person. They- gravitate toward each other. It’s hard to even get Harry alone.

I don’t know what to do. Pass on my apologies to the Order and Dumbledore.

-Remus

Voldemort re-folded the letter and slipped it into its envelope, sighing softly. The best way to deliver this would be via owl, and that meant he had to leave as he did not keep owls at the Slytherin Estate. 

He also needed to find out what was going on in the Wizarding World. The Minister, Fudge, had been on his last legs last week, but he had to know who the man’s replacement would be - there would likely not be a true election, just a person chosen from within the Ministry - in order to adjust his plans further.

All this meant he had to leave Harry behind, and he was hesitating.

Nagini would be with Harry the whole time, and Lupin had no access to a wand or magical reagents so there was no real reason to worry. Harry had even sworn not to go outside the walls of the Estate, completely understanding Voldemort’s fears. Harry was also afraid to leave the safety of the wards, but not at the level that Voldemort was experiencing.

Harry worried that he would encounter his friends, or members of the Order, and be forced to hurt them by leaving with Voldemort. He worried that by choosing his life, he had lost his loved ones. Voldemort was just worried that Harry would be hurt.

He didn’t want to see Harry unhappy, which was why he was delivering the letter with minimal censoring, just enough to protect the location of the Estate. Siphoning the ink away and re-smoothing the parchment hid any trace of the letters written upon it - something he had studied a long time ago, when building the Diary Horcrux.

(That Diary remained one of his greatest magical achievements to date, and he found himself dismayed, but not disappointed that it was gone. He would rather have Harry than a memory of his sixteen-year-old self.)

(The way he had felt more rational since Harry’s soul piece and the Diary along with it had returned to him was a bonus.)

(As Harry had mentioned in his letter; Voldemort wasn’t insane anymore.)

He poked his head into Harry’s room where Harry, Nagini and Lupin were enjoying what looked to be afternoon tea. “I’ll be unavailable for about an hour. Do not leave the house.” He shot Lupin a stern look, for surely the man would try something. Harry nodded, looking uncomfortable, and ran his hand along Nagini’s scales as she hissed happily.

“ I will protect the boy, Marvolo,” the huge boa responded, and that did settle him somewhat. “You are such a worrywort.”  

Harry let out a peal of laughter and Voldemort was momentarily mesmerized by the sound. He’d heard Harry scream in fear and anger and sadness before, and those sounds had been beautiful even then, but this-...

Blinking out of it, Voldemort turned to go. “I’ll be back soon,” He swept out of the house before he could hesitate again, and walked the path to the apparition point, half a mile from the house. It was a platform that held one of the wardstones, and he had carefully teased the wards around a smaller hole, the circular stone in the center, so he could apparate out again. It wasn’t inconspicuous, but it was far enough from the house that he hoped Lupin didn’t know how to find it.

He arrived at Malfoy Manor and tucked the letter into his pocket.

A house elf met him in the hallway, and, remembering all the things Harry had told him, he nodded his head respectfully to it and did not offer his name, nor thanks or apologies. “I am here to speak with Narcissa Malfoy,” He said, and waited patiently when the elf popped back out with a surprised expression upon his face. Do not say please or thank you, and do not try to observe him working . Be concise and polite, and they will respect that. It wasn’t a departure from his normal behaviour, really. He was just being slightly more polite. A bit of that went a long way with the elves, apparently. 

(He could almost hear Harry’s voice in his head, explaining the elves’ culture of working out of sight. He didn’t need to offend a House Elf and spawn a boggart in Narcissa’s home, she had enough problems.)

The elf returned with a grin. “Missus Malfoy is in the formal sitting room, Mr Dark Lord Sir!” It was a welcome change from the fear from Harry’s elf friend. Clearly this one was braver. 

Voldemort returned the smile with a small one of his own. “Lead on,” he was smiling so easily these days. He wondered if Narcissa would spot the differences in him.

(He wasn’t worried about it; he knew Harry was changing him for the better.)

Narcissa and Bellatrix were seated in the formal sitting room - Bella leaped to her feet as soon as the door opened. “My Lord!” She knelt before him, and he reached down to pull her back up and steady her. Her heartbeat thumped against his hands, and her pale skin flushed where he touched, her eyes wide and dazed.

“Bella,” As mad as she was, Voldemort cared deeply for Bellatrix. She was his most loyal, his most trusted, and she had lost so much for him - how could he not want to repay that debt? Her trauma wasn’t something he knew how to heal, but he always did his best to make her happy. “Have you been well?”

Bella blinked away the haze and nodded. “Yes, my Lord. All has been well here! I have begun training Draco in preparation for his place in your ranks, and Narcissa has been working on Lucius’ case - we got a court date! August 26th. The lawyer is working very hard. And the Minister resigned two nights ago, though I am sure my lord is aware, his replacement is being decided-” Narcissa stood more slowly, and curtseyed shallowly to her Lord as Bellatrix babbled. 

Letting Bella’s words wash over him, Voldemort smiled slightly and waited for a pause. He would process the information later. “Thank you, Bella. Narcissa, I have an… unusual request.”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Have you any of Draco’s old clothing? I find myself in need of it. Do not worry- it will not be used nefariously.”

It took a few seconds before Bella and Narcissa processed that. “M-my lord?” Bella tilted her head as if she could see the request at a different angle and it would suddenly make sense to her. Voldemort laid a hand on her shoulder and guided them all back to the couches.

“I have found myself in a situation wherein I am looking after a young wix, Draco’s age,” he explained. “And he has no clothing, no wand, nothing, but it is not safe to take him shopping.”

Narcissa and Bellatrix were both smart women, and it quickly dawned upon the pair of them. “ You have Potter, my Lord? Is that where you have been the past weeks?” Narcissa asked, while Bellatrix seated herself at Voldemort’s feet, looking up at him adoringly. He… probably should tell her to stop that, but he didn’t wish to make her think he was upset at her.

“Indeed. He is mine now, and belongs to the Dark.” Voldemort watched as the surprise played openly across Bella’s face. “He is not to be touched, but for now it is not safe to bring him anywhere - not until I know Dumbledore’s next move.”

“But-... surely, the prophecy, my Lord?” Narcissa asked, before regretting it. “Forgive me.”

He waved it away. “It is of no matter. He cannot harm me anymore, as I cannot harm him. The Prophecy is nullified. Neither of us can battle the other any longer, and as long as he lives, I cannot die.”

He hadn’t insisted on any vows from Harry, like he’d asked in the beginning. 

It was, perhaps, foolish of him to rely just on trust. Harry was easily swayed, kind-hearted and brash, all things that could be weaponised against him in a moment. And yet, all Voldemort could think was he wanted Harry not to harm him because Harry didn’t want to , not because he was forced. He wanted it to be real.

But letting his followers believe there was some sort of vow was probably safer for them both.

“Anyway, I have to send some letters - may I use your owlery? I will return for the clothing.”

“O-of course, my lord!”

He wasn’t behaving that much differently, was he?

Oh, maybe more threatening and less requesting.

“At once,” He intoned, smoothing his face down into a more neutral expression. Maybe the smiling was too much?

Bella certainly seemed to appreciate his more rude tone, springing up. “Yes, my Lord!”

The Weasley’s shop, called the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes (or something of that sort, Harry had written the envelope for him,) was in Diagon, and the Malfoy’s family was in Wiltshire, so nothing to a trained postal owl - which the Malfoys had many of. Bella led him up and introduced him to the available birds and he handed off the letter with instructions to only hand it to a pair of identical young men with red hair. 

There, that part was dealt with.

Now, the clothing. The walk through Malfoy Manor was refreshing, and, to his surprise, he caught sight of Draco at the other end of a hallway as he descended the stairs. There was a mumbled ‘my lord’, which he thought was very funny, considering Draco was not sworn to him in the slightest yet and whatever Bella thought, wouldn’t be for at least two years. He kept his face straight, though, because laughing at Draco might actually terrify the boy.

He missed Harry.

Bella was quiet as she followed him back, and Voldemort wondered what she thought of how he had changed. She would tell him if she wanted to, he was sure. 

Narcissa was directing a House Elf when he came back, and he averted his gaze from the creature. Harry’s words echoed in his head again; do not watch them work . It was offensive and implied that the elf was incompetent. Instead, he looked to Bella once more.

“How have you been, my most faithful?” He asked her softly. “This has been difficult for all of us. You must have been bored.”

He had an inkling of an idea for what he wanted for Bellatrix, but for now he had nothing he could reassure her with. Maybe reminding her that she was special in his eyes would help. 

“Oh, my Lord .” Bella breathed, and Voldemort leaned backward slightly. “It has been trying, I admit, but training Draco has put my mind from boredom!” She gushed, enthusiastic and apparently flattered that he would ask. “Is-... is there a plan for my husband?”

Voldemort wanted to bite his lip in thought, a habit he had apparently picked up from Harry. “I will raise it in my schedule. My most faithful deserve their just reward.”

“My Lord, the clothing is ready.” Narcissa called, and he turned. She was holding out a small jewellery box, presumably full of Expanded space which would be full of clothing. Thank Merlin.

Taking the box, he nodded to the pair of witches, and then the elf, which was about to pop away. It was a different one from the elf that greeted him, and he wondered how many elves the Malfoys even owned.

“Oh, and-” He had a few written orders. “For Severus, and for you Bella.” The scrolls passed hands. “Can you deliver this, Bella?”

Tonks, he was due to meet anyway. Severus - the details of their next meeting were in the letter.

“Of course, my Lord!” She bowed deeply. “And you are welcome to stay for dinner, if you wish.”

Narcissa didn’t seem to agree, he noticed with amusement. “No, I must get back,” He put the box into his pocket. “Before I leave- the new Minister? Narcissa, the candidates?”

“Rufus Scrimgeour is looking like the most likely candidate at the moment, my Lord,” Narcissa responded promptly. “He is backed by most of the DMLE including Madam Bones. Scrimgeour is very concerned with appearances and will likely cover up and lie to keep morale high.”

“Between the two of you, prepare me a report on his voting record and publicised actions in the last ten years,” Voldemort ordered, and glanced back down at Bella. “Pay attention to who his allies are. Would he cover up an Azkaban breakout? I will return in a week for it.”

Madam Amelia Bones… She was a strong leader. The head of the department of magical law enforcement, she had lost almost all of her family in the last war. Her only remaining relative was her niece, a girl in Harry’s year. Voldemort recalled she was a Hufflepuff, from his time in Quirrell’s body.

He stood to go, gently removing Bella’s hand from his arm. “One week,” He reassured. “I will begin drafting plans for Azkaban.”

If a human could have hearts in their eyes, Bellatrix had them as she dropped into another bow. “My lord is most gracious.”

Voldemort nodded and left, sweeping out of the room before he could hesitate anymore or do something silly like glance at the clock.

The corridors seemed so much longer. He was antsy. All he could think was I want to get back to Harry .

He sped up, quickly arriving at the entryway. The clock on the mantel was ticking far too loudly. He looked over and couldn’t believe his eyes.

It had only been twenty minutes. 

He was jittery, anxious, and couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The bond didn’t seem to stretch well over the distance, he could barely sense Harry at all, but there was a faint feeling of anxiety from that side as well.

Hm. This wasn’t going to be good, was it?

He couldn’t live like this, if every time he left Harry, he was out of sorts. He couldn’t lead a revolution like this. He couldn’t fight like this.

He found himself suddenly scared that his sanity was vanishing once more, blowing away like smoke with the distance.

Making his way out of the house, Voldemort barely held himself back from running, knowing that Bellatrix might be watching through the windows. He kept his stride steady, belying the thundering of his heartbeat.

As soon as Voldemort apparated away, Harry could tell. Nagini could too, he knew it in how she began to coil more firmly around his body. 

Remus seemed to steel himself. “Harry, Harry now is our chance, we can-”

Nagini let out a loud hiss , neck arching into a powerful S-shape as she anchored herself on Harry, and he winced. She was heavy, and her coils were tight. He knew she meant to be protective, but… “ Nagini, you’re hurting me,” He told her softly, lifting his hand that wasn’t trapped beneath the heavy snake to run down her back. “ I’m not going to go with him, but please-”  

He couldn’t even look at Remus, terrified that the man would have a disgusted expression on his face, shock and horror evolving into hate - he’d seen it hundreds of times before.

Nagini loosened her grip, moving to be atop Harry rather than around him, and he found her tail curling around his arm and wrist. It kind of felt like she was trying to hold his hand. “ I’m sorry, little hatchling.”

“Harry, please, just- tell her to get off you. You’re a parselmouth, she has to obey you, doesn’t she?” He finally looked up at his former professor. The man was pale with a sweaty sheen on his forehead and nose, eyes darting over Nagini’s bulk as she shifted once more, noiseless but for the creak of the sofa.

“Even if that was true,” Harry didn’t know if it was, but he didn’t think it would work on Nagini even if so - she had her own soul and Voldemort’s as well, she was far more than any simple snake. “I won’t do that, Remus. She’s just trying to protect me.”

“No, I’M trying to protect you, why can’t you see that?”

Harry was doing his best to stay calm, knowing from experience that Voldemort would come to him at the slightest upset. But this was just too rich. 

“If you were trying to protect me, Remus, why did I die?!” He spat, completely failing at keeping his cool in the face of more adults telling him they knew what was best for him. “Why did I bleed out in my own bed? With a guard outside keeping me safe?” His lips twitched in a sneer. “I don’t trust the Order to keep me safe ever again. I don’t trust you .”

“And I’m not even sure if you’re really Harry,” Remus replied, all the fight going out of him. “For all I know, he’s puppeting your body with necromancy. Or, you are Harry and he has you enchanted somehow. I have no way of knowing, and I just want to get you somewhere safe so I can call someone to-”

“Someone? Like Dumbledore?” Harry remembered Voldemort muttering about wanting to move a few of his Horcruxes because Dumbledore had been sniffing around. “Dumbledore, who will kill me if he knows that I know what I am? That Dumbledore? Or perhaps, Snape, who hates my guts and quit the Order two weeks ago to defect to the Dark?” He folded his arms and gave Remus a strong glare. “You don’t have friends, Remus, not outside the Order. I know you don’t. And I won’t leave the Estate, let alone go to the Order.”

“See, that- that is what I mean!” Remus pointed at Harry with such ferocity that Harry flinched. Nagini let out an entirely unsubtle hiss, raising her head like a cobra to threaten him with fangs extended. But Remus was on a roll, eyes starting to gleam with that signature werewolf amber. “You’re cruel now! You believe everything Voldemort tells you! You’re selfish and rude and you’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Harry was listening, actually. He’d just turned his head down to stare at Nagini’s scales in his lap, his vision blurring as he bit back angry tears. He felt… odd. 

He wondered when Uncle Vernon would progress from yelling to hitting. Or worse.

The bedsheets on his lap were a weird texture. 

He blinked, and they were snake scales. 

He reached out to touch them, and they were cool, but he could feel a heartbeat beneath the thick muscle.

The snake was heavy on his lap, he realised, and he hoped Uncle Vernon wouldn’t kill it.

In fact, it seemed like it had scared him off entirely.

The silence rang in his ears, louder than a Weasley’s Wheezes firework. 

He tried to make his vision focus, squinting and going to rub his eyes- he missed, and rubbed his forehead instead.

It was. Everything felt- cold.

He was in the Black Lake?

It felt like he was underwater. 

The seaweed was wrapping around him, making a strange hissing sound, no- those were words…?

And then there was a warm palm on his cheek, and Harry broke the surface with a gasp, eyes flying open - when had he shut them? - to meet Voldemort’s panicked face.

“Harry,” Voldemort said, or Harry thought he did. The sound was muffled, as if someone had covered his ears. He blinked, slow and sluggish. “Harry, can you hear me?”

He tried to respond and realised he wasn’t breathing. He inhaled with a desperate gasp, and the air tasted like life .

He breathed like a drowning man, steadied by Voldemort’s other hand, clenched tightly onto his shoulder and the weight of what he now realised was Nagini, coiled loosely around his waist and piled in his lap. He ran his fingers over her scales again, and grounded himself on the feeling.

“Harry, please, can you hear me?”

Nodding his head was difficult, but he managed it, and suddenly Voldemort was pulling him close, pressing him into a hug, Harry’s head against the older man’s chest, hearing how his heartbeat was going thump-thump, thump-thump.

Oh. He’d scared Voldemort. Oops.

He reached up, clumsily, and grasped at Voldemort’s robes, letting his eyes flutter shut.. Reaching down their bond, he gently, slowly pushed thoughts of reassurance and comfort. I’m alright. Just… had a shock.

Voldemort laughed softly, humorlessly. “Indeed,” and ran a hand through Harry’s hair. Harry’s mind went blank and he pressed up into it on instinct. It felt so good . 

After a moment that seemed to last forever, he reluctantly opened his eyes and pushed away, only for Voldemort to clutch him closer. “Please,” the other man whispered, and Harry understood.

Chapter Text

It was some time before they spoke again.

Harry listened as Voldemort’s heartbeat slowed, following his own down to a slow, steady thump-thump.

He wasn’t really sure what had happened. One moment, Remus was shouting at him, hurting and lashing out, and the next he’d been… panicking? Having a flashback? He wasn’t sure, but what he was sure of was that Voldemort had pulled him out of it, and he was grateful.

“Are you feeling better?” Voldemort asked delicately, pulling back slightly to look down at Harry, who nodded. He did feel more settled. Glancing around for Remus, he found the room empty and the door open. The other man had run away again. “I have a monitoring spell on him,” Voldemort quickly reassured Harry. “I’ll know if he leaves the building.” 

That settled some of Harry’s nerves. “I- I don’t know what came over me,” he tried to explain. “I was arguing with Remus, and then… suddenly, I wasn’t there at all. My Uncle was the one shouting at me instead.”

Voldemort seated himself beside Harry, taking one of Harry’s hands in both of his own. “It sounds like you had a flashback. I used to have those - loud noises or sirens would set them off. It made me feel as if I was back in the Blitz.”

(It was mind-boggling to know that Voldemort had been alive back then, had survived the Blitz and could talk about it as if it was nothing.)

“So, I’m …traumatised?” 

That… shouldn’t be as surprising as it was. Harry had been through a lot. He knew he had. The Dursley’s treatment of him had never been normal or okay, he’d just… not thought about it too much because he really hadn’t had the choice. He remembered Dumbledore, saying how Harry was perhaps not raised in a loving household, but at least was safe , and wanted to punch something or cry. Safe? House Elves and wizards had come to his house every single summer. His Uncle had been there. Safe, yeah. That’s what that was. 

Voldemort was staring down at Harry’s hand, rubbing gentle circles on his palm. “Well, yes. It happens to the strongest people. The strength is forged in adversity. It is the reason you are so strong. And… I find myself needing to apologise.” Now Harry understood why Voldemort was looking away. “You wouldn’t be who you are without your hardship, but that doesn’t mean I do not feel sorry for causing a great deal of it.”

Unsure what to say, Harry opened his mouth and paused, giving Voldemort his other hand. There was something very calming about the gentle, warm touch of his fingertips against Harry’s skin. “I… don’t blame you, not anymore,” Harry began haltingly. “You weren’t in your right mind, I’ve seen the memories.”

Voldemort had had a terrible nightmare, a few days before the ritual. They hadn’t truly talked about it, but Harry had seen the memories, flickering past him in a raging river of fear and madness. The way Voldemort’s mind had worked, the panic that had set in once he realised that it was madness , the fear that he would lose himself to it again- it had been overwhelming. 

Harry had almost wanted to make Voldemort hold back the ritual, unsure if it was only his presence keeping the other man sane, but the call of being back in his body had been too strong.

He was so, so glad that Voldemort’s newfound sanity appeared permanent. He didn’t think he could have handled it, have borne the knowledge and responsibility to put down or heal the monster that Voldemort had once been. He hadn’t been handling it. 

And if- if the unthinkable ever happened. If Harry was unable, one day, to restore Voldemort’s mind from shreds-.

He didn’t think he had the heart to kill Voldemort anymore. 

Curling his hands around Voldemort’s, Harry sighed quietly at his heavy thoughts.

What would have been left of them, had they stayed their original course? Certainly not the truth, or peace, or even dignity in death.

That wasn’t how the wizarding world worked, and Harry knew that intimately.

They would be torn to shreds. Written up and down as the villain and the tragic martyr.

Harry didn’t want that. 

“Harry,” Voldemort started, then stopped, unsure and projecting a nervous emotion that Harry couldn’t quite define. “Today, while I was out-... well, you know how I have been. Worried. It was worse, because I could not reach you. I… fear that our connection runs too deep and too shallow at the same time. I… thought I was going mad for a few moments, but I think it was merely anxiety.”

He was rambling, almost, and Harry hurt to hear it. “What can we do to make it better?” He asked, when Voldemort paused to take a breath. “I don’t want you to think you’re going… that way again. The nightmare was bad enough.” Voldemort pulled a face, and Harry was struck with the urge to cup the man’s cheek and smooth it away. “Would opening the bond more help? Reaching out to check on each other that way, so we don’t have to interrupt what we’re doing so much?”

“And when the distance lessens the bond?” Voldemort definitely seemed more hopeful, head lifted as he met Harry’s eyes once more, red to green. “I am not prepared to bring you with me, not yet. It is not safe.”

“I’m still thinking about that part,” Harry frowned in thought, “Could the bond get stronger? If we practise doing distance?” If there was a chance of that, he wanted it. A bond tying them together so tightly that it made Voldemort fear for his sanity wasn’t practical. 

“...it did before, so I imagine it could again,” Voldemort said, hands stilling as he concentrated. “As I sent you dreams, I opened the connection further and further until I could send full scenes from a country away. So… practice makes sense.”

Harry sighed in relief and let his head tip sideways onto Voldemort’s shoulder. The man was wearing his usual dark robes, in a lighter cotton fabric for the hot day, and Harry could feel the heat of his body through them. “Okay, that’s settled then. We take it slow and practice.”

“Indeed,” one of Voldemort’s hands found its way into Harry’s hair, the other’s thumb resuming its slow, steady circles of Harry’s palm. “Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course,” the younger wizard smiled softly, eyes sliding shut. “But if you keep petting my hair I think I might actually start purring.”

That startled a laugh out of Voldemort, a genuine one that had Harry’s heart singing. But the man kept gently stroking his long fingers through Harry’s tousled locks.

Voldemort’s next meeting with Snape was in just a few days, and the pair spent them practising the distance. First, from opposite sides of the building. Voldemort found it easier and easier to calm his nerves the more they practised, which built his confidence back up for the meeting, knowing that Harry would be just fine waiting for him. Harry had even let him cast a monitoring spell on him, so he would know if Harry was injured or left the wards while he wasn’t there.

(He wasn’t expecting that to happen, because Lupin had been utterly broken by Harry’s reaction to his outburst. The man sulked around the house like a shadow, not talking to any of them, staring sorrowfully at Harry whenever he had the chance. It was unsettling but a welcome change to the active rebellion.) 

So it was a much happier Harry that he left behind in the library, surrounded by books on House Elves and an elvish dictionary, Nagini curled at the other end of the desk.

That image was the one Voldemort held in his mind as he walked out, and it kept his step light, thinking about the ink stains on Harry’s fingertips and the way he bit his tongue as he concentrated. He knew he was in too deep, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

That boy was a part of him, his soul in a body that had been through so much. Voldemort was entitled to think whatever he liked about him. 

He reached the apparition point and turned on the spot, teleporting to two random locations before the meeting spot - a pub on a river not far from Severus’ Cokeworth home. At the last random location, he paused and cast a glamour over himself, conjuring the image of a middle-aged human man in muggle clothing that looked unremarkable to the average muggle observer. 

He wondered what Harry would think of the disguise as he turned on the spot one more time and landed in Severus’ apparition point.

(It was quite normal for wizards who lived in muggle neighbourhoods to mark off a side alley as their preferred apparition point. A couple of muggle-repelling wards and a forgetfulness charm would stop anyone from investigating too closely.)

It was a dingey alley, hot and humid, and the heat was like a pressured blanket, contrasting with the cool, air-conditioned Estate. Voldemort took a moment to adjust, then strolled out of the alley. A child zoomed past on a bicycle, and he had to take a hurried step backward as three more followed, shouting and laughing in the heat of the day.

Looking left and right, Voldemort tried again, this time making his way out onto the street without issue. The pub was one of those buildings that looked like it had existed forever, a roof of thatch surrounded by tiled terraced houses on every side, utterly out of place in the factory town but also obviously the heart of it. Families sat out on the benches, talking and laughing, and Voldemort slipped past a waiter to go inside. 

They’d met at this pub, the Ox’s Rest, a few times now, and while Voldemort didn’t enjoy it, it was inconspicuous and hard to spy on.

He made his way through the crowd of muggles watching some sport on the television screen, wincing slightly as they all suddenly cheered, the sound hitting his sensitive ears like a crashing wave. One man gave him an apologetic smile and clapped him on the shoulder, and Voldemort gritted his teeth as he made his way to the back room where he found Severus waiting for him.

The door shut and the wards quickly went up, and Voldemort seated himself and dropped his glamour spells.  

It was warm, but not stuffy, an electric fan blowing air from below the closed single-glazed windows. Severus was dressed exactly as always, in his full robes, and Voldemort could taste the hint of a cooling charm that was the only reason the man was able to walk around in that getup. “Severus.” He greeted the man, who had gone down on his knee. “Rise. Did you bring the Wolfsbane?”

He considered the punishment last time they had met just one part of the payment for Severus’ betrayal, but he also wasn’t really upset at the man anymore. Snape might think otherwise, but Voldemort didn’t see the point in holding impractical grudges when he had things to do. Like taking over the wizarding world.

The younger wizard handed over a box. “Instructions for the wolf inside - he has had mine before, so he should not have any trouble.”

“Good,” Voldemort put the box on the side table for now, and leaned his chin on his hand as he looked at Snape, who was awkwardly perching on the chair opposite him. “How goes the research? Have you discovered anything?”

Snape’s eyes widened, but he seemed ready enough to talk potions with his lord. “Adjusting the moonstone quality has a greater impact than was previously known, and I have found a supplier of feldspar who is willing to let me have the first choice, for a fee. I also have a theory about the method of diluting the aconite, but I’ll need to test it first. That is all for now.” He seemed almost nervous , which Voldemort found amusing.

Was the man really that afraid that he would lash out? For talking about potions?

“I-” Snape licked his lips. “I have something else to tell you, my Lord.”

“Do so.” Voldemort tilted his head, curious. 

“I have the Potter boy’s relatives.” 

That was not what Voldemort was expecting to hear. “Excuse me?”

“Kept under the draught of living death, my Lord. I originally warded their home so they could not leave, but after you spoke to me and reminded me where my loyalties should lie-” Voldemort bared his teeth at the man to tell him to stop rambling .

“-If you want them, you can have them, my Lord, - I was going to gift them to Potter as a peace offering.”

“Interesting,” Snape had realised that Harry was working with him, had considered his options, and had decided to throw his lot behind Harry. “I will tell him and let him decide what he wants, my servant.” Having a powerful follower supporting Harry wasn’t the worst idea, if Voldemort really considered it. He was just worried that Snape might go back on his vow and try to steal the boy away.

There was silence for a few moments, as Voldemort examined his nails and thought about Snape’s 

“Forgive my rudeness, but- you seem- better, my Lord. More stable.”

That was rude.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at his servant, who was now staring down at his feet and probably regretting every decision in his life that had led him to this moment. But- he was right . 

“I am,” He replied simply. “And you can thank Harry for it.”

Harry awakened alone, for once. Head down on a desk in the library, his cheek rested on a soft cushion, which must have been slid under his face at some point by either Voldemort or Remus. He groped around for his glasses, and found them within reach. A creak of the table informed him of Nagini’s presence, and as he slid his glasses back on he met her gaze, just a foot from his face. 

“ You did not sleep for long,” She informed him, “ Marvolo gave you a cushion before going to meet with someone. The wolf checked on you a few minutes ago, but he did not stay. ” The idea of Remus coming to check on him and leaving, presumably because of the massive snake curled up beside him, was somewhat comforting. 

Despite how scared he had been when Remus had shouted at him, Harry still loved the werewolf dearly, as the last connection to his parents and the only one from his old life that he knew for sure was on his side.

Remus had apologised three times in the last two days.

The first time had been awkward. The second had been embarrassing for both of them.

The third time, Harry had fled before Remus could finish his sentence. 

He was definitely, completely sure he had no idea what to do about Remus. 

The other wizard was clearly remorseful, but Harry didn’t know if he could trust him not to just… wait until Harry’s guard was down and knock him out to kidnap him. 

He ran his hand over Nagini’s head. “ Thank you for watching over me,” He hissed softly, and rubbed at his eyes. Sunlight was streaming through the window, a sign of the start of the sunset - it must be nearly dinnertime.

Maybe he could make something for Voldemort to come back to. It would be nice to use his skills for something he wanted to do.

Yes, that sounded like a good plan. “ I am going to start preparing dinner, Nagini. Do you want to come along?” Harry stood up and began closing his books and organising his notes. He’d come back to them tomorrow, but that didn’t mean he had to leave a mess in Voldemort’s library.

Nagini hissed her affirmative, and followed him down the hall to the kitchen, where Remus was making himself a cup of tea.

“-hello, Harry,” The man almost-whispered, as if trying not to spook him. Harry promptly ignored him and marched over to start looking in the cupboards and fridge to see what he could cook.

“Are you looking to make dinner?” Remus enquired after a few moments of quiet rummaging. 

Harry hummed the affirmative, pulling out the ingredients for yorkshire puddings. Voldemort had a good amount of meat and vegetables, so he would make a roast dinner for the three of them. It would be a nice distraction.

“Do you need any help?”

“I’ve been cooking roasts by myself since I was eight, Remus.” Harry said lightly. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

The werewolf winced. “I’ll just-...” and he fled the room with his tea. Harry tried not to be hurt.

Nagini had climbed up onto one of the counters, piling her heavy body into a comfortable coil. “He is stupid, hatchling,” She informed Harry with a decisive flick of her tailtip. “You are his cub. That should be all he needs to decide.”

“And yet,” Harry muttered, digging out measuring cups with more force than necessary. 

“And yet,” She replied calmly. “He will come around. He cannot stay away from you forever.”

“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence,” Harry said with sincerity, turning to give the large snake a smile. “It’s tiring, tiptoeing around his issues. I’m dealing with enough myself.” He was researching House Elf history, learning defensive magic and potions, learning Old English and Elvish, spending time with Voldemort and just generally trying to keep himself busy. He could vaguely feel a breakdown on the horizon, but it would be fine .

He was still reeling from dying .

And that-...

Blinking, Harry shook his head to clear it and went back to baking prep. 

With all the time spent in Voldemort’s body, he missed the cooking spells the man always used. He missed his wand . Doing everything by hand was meditative, but it left a larger portion of his brain free to think than Harry liked. He didn't really want to think too deeply just yet.

No, all was fine. “Nagini?” He stilled his hands and looked at the snake. “Has Voldemort ever had someone like me before?” He knew the answer, or he thought he did, but Nagini would know for sure- she had been with Voldemort basically since he had left Hogwarts. 

“Never, Hatchling,” She reassured him. “Nobody has gotten even close to what you two have.”

And that was reassuring, strangely. Knowing Voldemort was just as out of his depth as Harry was, wading in headfirst to something that might be tinged with romance or even love. 

He hadn’t dared to think about it before today.

But… he wasn’t scared, not really. Out of his depth, yes, but not scared. He trusted Voldemort not to hurt him. He remembered those first days, Voldemort’s voice, soft and calm - no harm will come to you here, you have my word - and felt his face burning.

He had Voldemort’s word .

The rest would come.

Of that, Harry was strangely certain.

Chapter Text

The House Elf that Harry was friends with was visiting again. Voldemort was taking his lunch in the kitchen when the three (the wolf was, naturally, trailing behind Harry like a lost pup) entered, not noticing him at first. He set down his utensils and leaned back to watch the trio as Harry set the kettle to boil.

“- Harry Potter is finishing the Tales then Dobby must get it back to Winky soon, she is not happy with Dobby for borrowing it at all,” the elf was saying, engrossed in the conversation.

Lupin spotted Voldemort first, pupils dilating and hackles rising. They had an uneasy truce, but that didn’t mean the wolf wasn’t scared of him. Voldemort raised a single brow at the man, challenging him. Go on , he thought, you’re a coward.

Because it was a coward’s way to avoid situations that hurt them, even to the detriment of the people they loved.

Like Harry, who had begun to have nightmares of his own, the rejection of his last remaining parental figure hitting harder than he would admit aloud. The easy way he was letting Voldemort coax him into afternoon naps with their hands entwined told the story well enough.

“-do you want tea or coffee, Voldemort?” Harry asked, and Lupin broke eye contact as Dobby flinched, suddenly aware of the Dark Lord in the room.

“Tea, please,” Voldemort inclined his head to Harry and didn’t speak further, knowing he wouldn’t get far with these people yet. It would come.

He went back to his food.

“I’m being very careful with it, Dobby, don’t worry. I’m almost finished. Probably by Tuesday?” It was Saturday, and Voldemort was impressed that Harry had kept track of the days of the week. 

The House Elf took a few moments to reply, bulging eyes still fixed on Voldemort. “Dobby will be telling Winky Tuesday then, Harry Potter,” He felt the elf’s eyes leave him and tried to relax the tension in his shoulders.

He hadn’t relied on goodwill since Hogwarts. Fear worked so much better. 

But right now, if the elf decided to steal Harry away, the chance was as likely as not that he would not move fast enough to thwart it.

It was only with a great effort that Voldemort stopped himself from reacting to that thought.

No, he was allowed to feel these things. He was allowed to feel whatever he wished. He was Lord Voldemort .

He wasn’t a worrier.

He wasn’t.

Harry’s hand landed on his shoulder, and a cup of tea was placed down gently at his side. Voldemort felt the tension drain out of his shoulders and glanced up to meet Harry’s green eyes.

“You alright?” Harry asked quietly. The elf and the werewolf were trying to act like they were not watching.

Voldemort nodded and wrapped his hands around the tea. “Go on, I will be fine.”

“If you’re sure…” Harry was far too caring. Voldemort didn’t want to think about that too deeply, because Harry was a part of his soul and if Harry was capable of such kindness and emotion, that Voldemort might be, too.

He patted Harry’s hand on his shoulder and spoke more loudly. “I will finish my meal and follow, if you insist on worrying.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Voldemort was the one who wanted to follow - Harry just wanted him to be okay.

But Voldemort had an appearance to keep up, so Harry let him have his illusion. “Alright, we’ll be in the sun room,” The group left the room, and Voldemort was left staring into his mug of tea - made black, just as he liked it - and not really thinking at all, just missing the hand on his shoulder.

--

“-and if Harry Potter wishes, Dobby can bring Winky next time, so that Harry Potter can request the right books and Winky will stop trying to twist Dobby’s ears about it?” 

Harry was juggling three books and a cup of tea, a metaphor for how he was juggling three ridiculous people and a looming fear that his life couldn’t be idyllic for much longer. He looked up at Dobby and found the elf holding open the door to the sun room.

Making his way in, Harry planted himself on one of the lounges that was in the full sun. Since he’d learned that the glass in the sun-room was enchanted to protect against sunburn, it had become his favourite place in the house.

The chill of death lingers on you, Voldemort had murmured when helping Harry to sort through Draco’s old clothing, making sure to ply Harry with sweaters and socks. The logical explanation for Harry’s persistent chill wasn’t so obvious, but Voldemort had a few theories. Harry thought the one that said he’d been holding onto the Diary Horcrux and now it had returned to Voldemort seemed the most likely. He had less soul than he’d had in years, should souls ever be measured in perceivable numbers.

And Voldemort, who had been easily cold himself before the ritual, now ran hot. Which sort of confirmed it.

“I don’t mind, but is she okay with being in Voldemort’s home?” Harry pulled up one of his legs and wrapped his arms around it, watching Dobby and Remus pick their own seating. “I know it’s a bit… intimidating.” 

Nagini slithered in through the door he had left ajar, and everyone except Harry froze to watch as she climbed up and sprawled herself around his other leg in the sun. “Marvolo will be along in a while, so I am watching you,” She informed Harry before putting her head down to sunbathe. (It occured to Harry that if Dobby were to take him, she would come along, and that was comforting.)

“Oh, Winky is much braver than Dobby, Harry Potter,” Dobby nodded his head. “Winky was being the elf of the Crouch family for decades, she was.”

Decades. A few weeks ago, that would have surprised Harry, but now he knew house elves lived just as long as wizards and often worked for the same family their entire lives. It was considered normal for an elf to never retire and simply be executed when they got too old or ill to work.

Harry couldn’t help but be glad that Winky was no longer a Crouch elf, even if she herself wasn’t happy about it. He wondered briefly about Kreacher again, now under the care of Tonks. 

Tonks was wizard-raised, so likely believed in the normalcy of the House Elf’s enslavement, but then again they did have a muggle father…

Harry would have to ask Voldemort to ask Tonks about it when they met him tonight.

“Mr Harry Potter, sir…” Harry looked back up, realising he’d been distracted by his thoughts. “Dobby has been searching for Harry Potter’s belongings since Dobby saw the newspaper article about his wand.”

Harry hummed in thought. “Where have you looked? Did they take them to the Headquarters?”

Dobby shook his head, his large ears flapping. “Dobby has searched the Headquarters, the Headmaster’s Office, and the Come and Go Room. Next Dobby will look at the Burrow, though Dobby will have to be careful.”

“There’s a lot of wizards there at the moment,” Harry tapped his fingers on his leg. “I’d offer to let you take my Cloak, but I don’t have it. Though- there was a loose floorboard at the Dursleys’ with a few of my things. I bet they didn’t look there. My photo album…” 

Dobby clasped his hands, in prayer or supplication or simply in excitement at being able to help his friend, the Great Harry Potter. “Dobby will look there next, Mr Harry Potter!”

--

“Are you ready?” Harry was shorter than Voldemort, his head the perfect height to be tucked against the Dark Lord’s collarbone while they apparated. “You don’t have to take me if you’re worried at all.” 

They were going to see Tonks, and Harry had asked to come, on the off-chance that perhaps Tonks could tell him which members of the Order could be sympathetic. Voldemort also thought that Harry could do with another supportive friend - it stung, but he knew he wasn’t enough to keep Harry stable and happy over the summer, not with his own constant worrying. 

“I am,” Voldemort wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I trust in your safety with me, Harry.” 

“I trust you too,” Harry said easily, smiling up at him in a way that made it that much harder to move, because Voldemort was experiencing the urge to possess Harry in all ways, to hide him away from the world in a way that was uniquely dangerous of him. And he knew it was, so he held those thoughts inside because for the first time, he didn’t want Harry to see what was inside his head. “I’m glad you’re looking after me, Voldemort.”

That simple sentence sent him reeling. Voldemort wasn’t sure he’d ever had a true duty of care before. Or, if he had, he’d never recognised it as such. Bellatrix - she needed caring for, sure, but he left it to her partners - and Barty… who had been unstable, but was not ultimately needy, were nothing compared to this young man before him, trusting him to look after him with wide, sharp eyes.

Voldemort closed his eyes, less he get lost in green that did not end, and turned on the spot. 

They landed on a nature trail, a few minutes from the rendezvous spot that Tonks was due to meet them at, and Harry laughed in delight as he looked around at lush green leaves. “It’s so alive!” He looked back at Voldemort, lit by dappled sun-through-leaves, and for a moment it felt like Harry was haloed like an angel from his childhood chapel’s stained windows, glowing in the sunshine.

He kept one hand on Harry’s wrist, and allowed the boy to lead. He could do nothing else. It was like a spell - he was enthralled.

Luckily for both of them, Harry headed in the correct direction, and they quickly turned a corner to find some sort of bird-watching hut. It was barely a second before someone burst out - a teen with blue hair and a wild grin on their face. Voldemort glanced down at their joined hands for a split second, but decided to hold on as the teen who had to be Tonks skidded to a stop before the pair.

“My Lord,” they murmured in greeting, practically vibrating.

“At ease,” He said, because he couldn’t say anything else- he could feel how much Harry needed this, trembling with need for warm affection from someone who would not hurt him, someone who had never hurt him.

“Harry!” Tonks pulled him into a hug, and Voldemort was left holding Harry’s sleeve, feeling very much like what a ‘third wheel’ might be. He had no real worry that Harry held romantic affections for Tonks - no, they had been entwined far too much for Voldemort to not trust him in that way - but Harry was also young, and could one day choose differently. 

Not like Voldemort, who was fairly certain this was the closest thing to love he’d ever felt.

But after a moment, he felt Harry’s emotions sour, and the young man pulled away to step back, turning to Voldemort with a bright, false smile. “Inside the hut, then?” And then he took up Voldemort’s hand in his own, twining their fingers together, and Voldemort found all insecurities forgotten.

The three entered the birdwatching hut, Harry and Voldemort sitting together on the bench as Tonks stood before them. Voldemort recalled how ignorant Tonks had been at their last meet, unable to even comprehend the idea of child abuse, and wondered if that was the cause of Harry’s sudden upset. Either way, he squeezed Harry’s hand gently, letting the young man keep his silence until he was ready.

“Report,” Voldemort said, but softer than he normally would to his followers. He’d seen Tonks’ sharp eyes catch their joined hands, and he was interested to see how the wix would react to indications of a deeper bond.

“My lord,” Tonks said, trying for professional as they shifted to their preferred form. “My written report is here. Do you want a spoken summary?” They handed him a file, and Voldemort wondered if this was what teachers felt like for a fleeting moment.

Gathering homework, assigning projects, all that nonsense. What a young idealist he’d been, to think his talents would be best spent there.

“Summarise.” He said, fixing his eyes outside the window. He couldn’t honestly recall what it was he’d asked them to report on. There was a bush of some kind of brambles just a few metres from the hut, and it was currently covered in birds. Small, large, all kinds, going for the blackberries and hoping not to scrape themselves on the sharp thorns.

Was that what Harry felt like with him, he wondered? Reaching in for the joy amongst the danger? Voldemort certainly felt like a monster sometimes beside Harry’s light.

“There has been a single Order meeting since my last report, and nothing of real interest was discussed. Nonetheless, I have a transcript enclosed. They tried and failed to keep the paper from reporting on some of the things listed in the article, but despite the Editor taking bribes from Diggle he didn’t obey him to the letter,” Tonks frowned. “Skeeter may have signed the article but the facts were all from other sources.” 

“Beetle animagus,” Harry murmured, causing them both to glance at him for a moment. It was registered now, but that didn’t mean it was particularly common knowledge. Voldemort vowed to get the story of how Harry knew later.

“On a separate note, I have received notice that Grimmauld Place has reverted in ownership to Harry and would like to offer to assist in locking down the wards and clearing it of tracking spells. I would also like to offer to gift ownership of Kreacher to Harry, as I know he’d be happier in Grimmauld.”

Harry froze, looking at Tonks with a cold stare. 

Voldemort twisted in his seat to watch Harry, hoping he wouldn’t panic, but instead watched as the young part of his soul took a deep, steadying breath and looked up at Tonks with an entirely false smile. “I’d like that.”