The Semblance of Peace, part 6
Snape stood with his back turned to Harry. "Potter, and here I thought you at least possessed enough intelligence to tell time. Clearly I was mistaken, as you are over one hour late."
"Severus."
"My Lord?" Snape glanced over his shoulder, and his carefully constructed sneer vanished. "Forgive me."
"We had a bit of a situation that needed my attention." Voldemort waved Snape towards his private rooms. "Come, we must talk."
They sat down in their usual seats, and Snape stared at Harry with narrowed eyes. "Potter?"
"Harry is unavailable at the moment," Voldemort said, and started telling Snape what had happened.
It was funny, in a morbid way, but Harry did feel unavailable at that moment. He was there, he heard everything Voldemort said, he saw Snape's shocked face, and yet he felt as if there was nothing left of him. Whatever had kept him going ever since he'd woken up from his coma was gone, obliterated by the same Killing Curse Voldemort had used on Ginny. He was empty and worthless and so fucking stupid for ever believing Voldemort would not hurt his friends when it suited him.
"This is a most unfortunate incident," Snape said. He seemed to mean it.
"Indeed. Harry seems...upset. He certainly refused to listen to reason when I offered it to him." Voldemort shook his head. "I was hoping you'd be able to talk some sense into him."
"Yes, of course." Snape got up, and collected a bottle and two tumblers from a small cabinet.
"I will release him, then." And with that Harry felt control flow back to him. He sagged in his chair and didn't look up when Snape thrust one of the glasses into his hand.
"Drink," Snape said, and sat back down, sipping his own glass. "You'll need it."
Harry just stared at the glass, too tired and empty to move as much as a finger.
"Potter, I am going to ask you a few questions, and I expect an answer." Snape waited until Harry gave a faint nod. "Are you upset with the Dark Lord for what he did?"
"He fucking killed Ginny!"
"So I heard." Snape took another sip. "Tell me, Mr Potter, did you or did you not know the Dark Lord has a history of killing those who oppose him?"
Harry stared at Snape. "Are you serious?"
"Just answer my question!"
"Yes, of course I knew! The fucker killed my parents!"
"Good." Snape gave Harry an annoying little smile. "Then you also knew that even in his current state, the Dark Lord will not hesitate to eliminate those who threaten him. Am I correct?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah."
"And yet you brought the Dark Lord here, and you allowed him to stay at this school, share with you your House, your friends, yes, even your bed, knowing full well what could happen the moment any of your meddling friends became just a bit too nosy. Correct?"
Glancing down, Harry nodded.
"Mr Potter, the only thing you should be upset about at this time is that you failed to understand who you were dealing with. The Dark Lord is who he is. You can agree or disagree with him as you please, but you can never expect him to change that behavior which has been successful for him in the past."
Harry gave Snape an incredulous look. "What?"
"Allow me to put it in simple words for you. You befriended a dragon, yet you treated him like a puffskein, and now you are surprised and upset your dragon bit the head off one of your friends who failed to understand it is best not to threaten a dragon."
"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Harry couldn't believe Snape.
"You are not listening, Potter. I am merely saying it is time you started treating your new best friend like a wild dragon with the capacity to kill, instead of thinking you can exert any control over him. Show him the respect you would give any wild animal and do not for one second think he will ever be tame."
Harry finally raised his glass to his lips and took a swig. Whatever it was, it burned the back of his throat and made his eyes water. He inhaled a deep breath, and whispered, "He just killed her."
"He did not just kill her, Potter. He tried to salvage the situation by altering her memory, but Miss Weasley's knowledge of certain critical elements from your current situation were too extensive, and thus in the end he was left no other choice but to kill her."
"But he can't just go around killing people!"
"Of course he can! Just because it isn't something you might do, doesn't mean suddenly the Dark Lord is going to adjust himself to your standards. And it is time you understand that. Yes, it is most unfortunate Miss Weasley confronted you the way she did, however, it was something even a blind man could have seen coming."
Harry took another gulp of his drink. He liked that it burned. At least it made him feel something. "I should never have come here, to Hogwarts."
Snape leaned back in his seat in a way that seemed to communicate agreement. "You were in denial, Potter. The worst case of denial I have ever seen, in fact."
"I just wanted things to be over." Harry wrapped an arm around himself. "I wanted to have a normal life and I risked everything for it and it got Ginny killed."
Snape inclined his head. "However, things aren't over, and by the look of it, they never will be. And you really should accept that, Potter, or more people will get killed."
"Yeah." Harry's eyes teared up, and he quickly squeezed them shut. He was not going to cry in front of Snape. Something touched his knee, and when Harry opened his eyes, he saw Snape crouching in front of him.
Snape cleared his throat. "I wanted things to be over, too, Potter. I was willing to stab anyone in the back for it. I killed for it. And where did it get me? Right back at square one. And I finally understood that no matter how much I want to see things change, some things never do."
Closing his eyes again, Harry leaned forward and rested his cheek on Snape's shoulder, his nose buried against Snape's throat. And while Harry didn't make a sound and his breathing stayed slow and even, the robes beneath his face were wet.
*--*--*
"Here." Snape handed Harry a full glass of what seemed to be whisky, according to the label on the bottle.
The idea of Snape offering comfort was strange. Granted, all Snape had done was let Harry lean against him and weep on his shoulder (much to Harry's horror, now that he thought about it), but it had still been comforting.
Voldemort had kept quiet the entire time. Did he realize he'd been wrong? No. Harry had to stop thinking like that. Voldemort was Voldemort, nothing more and nothing less. Voldemort had done as he'd always done, and Harry had enabled him.
And Harry finally understood that getting upset about it served absolutely no purpose for any of them.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore," Harry said, touching his forehead where he imagined Voldemort to be. "I thought I could - I finally had some life of my own - I was normal -- "
"Potter," Snape said, staring at Harry over the rim of his glass. "You never were normal, you never will be normal, and quite frankly, I don't believe you even want to be normal."
"Huh?" Harry felt too numb to get annoyed with Snape's dismissal.
"If you truly wanted to be normal, you wouldn't have taken on the Dark Lord by yourself in your first year. You wouldn't have hurried down to the Chamber of Secrets in your second year. You wouldn't have chased an escaped criminal down a hole in the ground in your third year. You wouldn't have participated in the TriWizard Tournament without any protest in -- "
Harry frowned. "It wasn't as if I had a choice."
"Of course you had a choice!" Snape leaned forward in his chair, eyes hardening. "Dire a choice it may be, you always had one, and you always chose to be as abnormal a teenage boy as was humanly possible."
"Er..." Harry blinked.
"Even now, instead of hiding away while trying to do the Dark Lord's bidding so he won't go after your precious friends, you made a choice. And in your preposterous quest to be 'normal', you made the most abnormal choice in your entire life."
"I shouldn't have come to Hogwarts, I know that," Harry muttered.
"No, you shouldn't have come to Hogwarts thinking everything would be 'normal' just because you attended school."
"I know that, all right?" Harry said, his voice tight. "I thought I could handle things - I've always handled things - and now Ginny's dead, and I should have seen it coming, I know!"
"Potter, there is no handling the Dark Lord. He handles you."
Harry closed his eyes. He knew that. It was just easier to ignore it. "I don't know anymore where I end and Voldemort begins. I don't know anymore if what I'm feeling comes from me or from Voldemort." He snorted. "Well, I know this last hour was all me, since Voldemort enjoys killing -- "
"I didn't enjoy killing the girl, Harry." Voldemort's sudden comment startled Harry, and he sloshed whisky over his hand.
"Right. Like you didn't enjoy killing my parents. I felt -- "
"I did not enjoy killing the girl because I knew it would hurt you," Voldemort said. "You are a part of me, my little Horcrux. I do not enjoy hurting myself."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Instead he sipped his whisky, utterly confused how he should feel about Voldemort's confession.
"It seems Harry has calmed down," Voldemort said. Snape nodded at that. "Thank you, Severus."
"My pleasure," Snape said, nodding again. "It was high time someone made the boy see reason."
"Harry, I know you are thinking of leaving Hogwarts."
"Er..." Harry had been thinking that.
"However, we cannot leave at this time. It would look too suspicious for you to disappear right after the girl. We will remain here until Severus completes the potion. Should you feel unable to deal with daily life here in your current state of grief, I will do it for you."
"You're not giving me a choice in this, are you?"
Voldemort smiled. "No, Harry, I am not."
*--*--*
Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower by himself. He was damned if he was going to use Voldemort as a crutch. He could handle this. He'd faced far worse - no, that wasn't true. He didn't think he'd ever faced worse, but he could still handle it.
He repeated that phrase over and over in his mind. He could handle it. Voldemort was living inside his body? He could handle it. Ginny was lying dead in the Chamber of Secrets? He could handle it. He'd been the one to give Voldemort the opportunity to kill Ginny? He could handle it.
Until he stepped inside the common room and saw Ron and Hermione sitting cozily on the couch together. God, they had no idea. No one knew what had happened that evening. Ron didn't know his sister was dead.
Harry froze, and at once Voldemort took over.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. "You look very pale."
Voldemort sat down beside her. "Snape and I had a row," he said, shoulders hunched. "About Voldemort and Dumbledore."
"That bastard," Ron said, eager to come to Harry's defense as usual.
Smiling, Voldemort shook his head. "Well, yeah. But we talked about it, and everything is fine now."
"That's good," Hermione said. Ron looked a little disappointed.
"It was just tiring, you know? Gave me a bloody headache, so I'm going to bed."
"Good night, Harry." Hermione smiled at him, and it was that smile that cut straight through Harry's heart. They had no idea what he'd done, and he could never tell them, either, or they'd end up dead, too.
Voldemort didn't give control back until they reached the dormitory. Harry didn't acknowledge it. He slipped into his pajamas and got into bed.
"Let me help you relax, Harry." Voldemort moved Harry's hand inside his pajama bottoms.
"Don't," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Don't touch me. Don't even talk to me. Just let me be."
His hand fell against the mattress. "Very well." Voldemort didn't say anything else, and Harry concentrated on the unusual silence in his head until he finally fell asleep.
*--*--*
At breakfast the next morning, Harry waited for the bomb to drop. When he'd woken up, he'd been unable to put on his glasses without his hands trembling, so Voldemort had taken over from there. And now all Harry could do was watch and wait until someone noticed Ginny was missing.
It didn't take very long.
Two sixth-year girls whose names Harry couldn't remember approached Ron.
"Have you seen Ginny?" one of them asked. Ron looked up from his bacon and eggs and shook his head.
The girl wrung her hand in the front of her robes. "She went to see Blaise last night, and she wasn't back yet when we went to bed. So at first we thought she was...you know, still with Blaise." The girl swallowed when Ron narrowed his eyes. "But this morning, she wasn't in her bed either, and now Blaise is here and she's not, so we're a little worried."
Ron looked at Hermione, who frowned in obvious concern. "I haven't seen her since dinner last night."
"Me neither," Voldemort said, looking just as concerned as Hermione.
"Let's have a chat with that bloody Slytherin about my sister," Ron said, and pushed himself up. Hermione did the same, as did Voldemort.
"Zabini, where's my sister?" Ron asked as they neared the Slytherin table.
"How am I supposed to know?" Zabini said. "She didn't show up last night."
"And you think I believe that?" Ron reached for his wand, but Hermione placed a hand on his arm to stop him.
"Listen, Blaise," she said. "No one's seen Ginny since she went to see you last night. Do you know anything? Did you two have a fight?"
"No, I don't, and no, we didn't."
"Mr Weasley, perhaps you'd care to explain why you're harassing my students?" Snape stood behind them, and Harry hadn't even seen or hear him approach.
"Professor, Ginny's missing. Apparently she went to see Blaise last night, but she never returned to her dormitory," Hermione said.
Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked first at Hermione and then at Zabini. "I believe the Headmistress should be informed about this. Blaise, come with me."
Ron made to follow Snape as well, but Snape turned to glare at him. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To see the Headmistress!"
"This does not concern you, Weasley. We're merely informing her. Your sister is most likely hiding in a bathroom somewhere, crying over something or other like little teenage girls are wont to do." And with that, Snape swept away to the Head Table, Zabini on his heels.
"That bastard," Ron said, and looked at Harry. "Couldn't you have said something? He's your...whatever he is."
Voldemort raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not getting involved in that, Ron."
"Maybe Snape is right," Hermione said, though she sounded doubtful. "Maybe she did have a fight with Zabini. Or maybe she just needs some time alone." Hermione gave Ron a pointed look. "She has been upset quite a bit lately."
Harry knew they were talking about him, about how they believed Harry's sudden homosexuality had hurt Ginny a great deal. Little did they know Ginny was the only one who'd figured out the truth and now she was dead.
Voldemort pretended not to understand what they were saying. "Let's just sit back down. I'm sure McGonagall will sort it out."
"Yeah," Ron said, but he didn't sound convinced.
*--*--*
News about Ginny's mysterious disappearance spread like a wildfire and by the end of classes that day the whole school was talking about it.
McGonagall and Hestia Jones were waiting for them in the common room.
"Come with me," McGonagall said to Ron, and added, "You two might come as well."
Voldemort, who'd kept control over Harry the whole day, much to Harry's relief, followed McGonagall obediently down to her office. As they entered, Harry saw Mr and Mrs Weasley seated in front of McGonagall's desk.
McGonagall conjured a few more chairs for Harry and his friends, just as Mrs Weasley turned in her seat to look at them. And at the sight of Mrs Weasley's tear-streaked face, Harry wanted to die. He really, truly wanted everything to be over with, just hurl himself into the darkness of oblivion. He would never be able to tell them what really happened, even if he got rid of Voldemort, even if he killed Voldemort, he knew he'd never be able to confess he'd played a part in their daughter's death. Dying was so much easier than living with the weight of that secret.
"The death of one girl is not worth dying over, Harry."
Harry didn't respond. He honestly didn't know what to say to Voldemort anymore.
"We have searched every classroom, every bathroom, and all the towers," McGonagall said, sitting down behind her desk. Hestia Jones stood beside her. "The ghosts have looked, we've asked the portraits for help, but no one has seen any sign of Ginny."
Mrs Weasley pressed a handkerchief to her mouth, and Mr Weasley put a hand on her knee.
"When did you three last see Ginny?" McGonagall asked.
"After dinner last night," Ron said. Both Hermione and Voldemort nodded. "She left to see Zabini, apparently."
"Yes. Severus has questioned Mr Zabini. Ginny never arrived at their usual meeting place in the south tower."
"Of course Zabini would say that," Ron said, brows furrowing.
"Mr Weasley, I assure you Professor Snape was most thorough in his interrogation." McGonagall narrowed her eyes, and Ron looked down at the floor. "Now, did Ginny seem upset when she left the common room last night? Had she been in a fight with anyone?"
Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Harry. "Well," she said. "She'd been getting more and more upset lately about Harry."
"Huh?" said Voldemort in a perfect imitation of Harry. "She never said anything to me."
"Miss Granger, please explain yourself."
"She seemed upset about the fact that Harry's gay and in a relationship with Professor Snape. She was convinced Harry wasn't acting like himself and that someone, Snape I think, was forcing him."
Voldemort sighed. "Snape's not forcing me." He looked up at McGonagall. "Do you think the Headmistress would allow our relationship if she thought that for just one second?"
McGonagall nodded. "You're quite right, Potter. Now, Ginny has been missing for almost twenty-four hours. Molly, Arthur, while I am convinced nothing serious has happened to her, I would like to contact the Ministry and ask Kingsley Shacklebolt to start an investigation."
Mrs Weasley let out a soft cry in her handkerchief, and Mr Weasley nodded vigorously. "Yes, please, Minerva."
"I will contact him at once." McGonagall looked at Harry and his friends. "You three are dismissed, but I do ask you to keep your eyes and ears open, and if you see or hear anything that might be of use, inform me immediately."
"Yes, Professor," Voldemort said, and followed Ron and Hermione out of the office. "Why didn't you ever say anything about Ginny?" he asked the moment they stepped into the corridor.
"What do you expect, Harry," Hermione said, giving him an accusatory glance. "With the way you dumped her and suddenly hooked up with Snape of all people."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "If you'd told me, I could have talked to her, at least. And then maybe this wouldn't have happened!"
Hermione's expression softened. "Oh, Harry, it isn't your fault Ginny's suddenly disappeared."
Voldemort shrugged, and something inside Harry's chest broke, Harry was sure of it. How could Hermione say that to him when he'd been the one to lead Ginny to her death?
"Yeah, mate," Ron said.
"We'll find her," Voldemort said. He sounded stubborn, and it was scary how good he really was at acting and talking exactly like Harry. "She can't have just disappeared."
Harry wanted to die. Maybe Voldemort could keep his body and put Harry in a coma forever. That sounded good.
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You have dealt with loss before. You lost your parents and your godfather, and you made it through in one piece, didn't you? You will make it through again, I assure you."
Harry wanted to point out Voldemort was the one responsible for him losing his parents and godfather, but really, what was the use? Voldemort knew that. He just didn't care.
*--*--*
Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived at Hogwarts the next day, and by the time classes were over, rumors were running wild. Zabini had supposedly been arrested and taken to the Ministry where they'd questioned him under Veritaserum about him killing Ginny. That was, until Zabini appeared at dinner, looking perfectly fine.
The day after that the whole school was convinced Ginny had drowned herself in the lake because she'd been unable to get over Harry and his sudden homosexuality. However, McGonagall talked with the merpeople and had the giant squid sweep the lake, and it became quite clear Ginny wasn't there, either.
And yet another day later, rumor went that Ginny had been cheating on Zabini with a mysterious lover she was supposed to meet in the Forbidden Forest, where she'd sadly been ripped apart by either a vicious werewolf or an aggressive troll. Hagrid talked with the centaurs, and they assured him Ginny had not been seen in or around the forest.
And all that time Harry kept hidden away in his own mind while Voldemort played the part of worried yet clueless friend. Voldemort offered Harry control back a few times, but Harry was perfectly fine where he was. He didn't want to talk to his friends about Ginny. He didn't want to face anyone. It was easier to pretend he wasn't even alive to begin with.
Shacklebolt did question people, but he did so discreetly and without Veritaserum. Voldemort answered Kingsley's questions in a convincing manner, and that was the last they saw of him.
Snape helped searching for Ginny where he could, and in the time he had left he experimented with the potion for Sekem's Vessel.
Harry didn't fuck Snape. Sex was the last thing on his mind. He even refused when Voldemort offered to help him relax before sleep. And most surprisingly, after every refusal, Voldemort let the matter rest.
That Saturday, Voldemort spent an hour with Ron and Hermione studying the Marauder's Map carefully, but as expected, they found no trace of Ginny on it. The Marauders, after all, had never discovered the Chamber of Secrets. They then spent an hour in the Room of Requirement, which Voldemort had not known about in his school days and he seemed quite excited about it, though he didn't show Ron and Hermione that. Ron was convinced Ginny might have tried to use it and got stuck inside.
But after trying out every room they knew the Room of Requirement could produce, Ron was forced to conclude Ginny hadn't got trapped inside. When they encountered the large storage hall, Voldemort collected the Half-Blood Prince's book which Harry had hidden there in his sixth year, saying Snape probably wanted it back.
They parted ways then, and Voldemort went down to the dungeons to see Snape.
"I have a present for you, Severus." Voldemort handed Snape his book. "Harry had it hidden away. I thought you'd like it back."
"Thank you." Snape skimmed through the book, and he seemed pleased with it. He carefully placed it on one of the many bookshelves in his sitting room, and looked at Voldemort. "How is the boy? Still moping about?"
Voldemort sighed. "Yes. Harry has been unresponsive of late."
"Perhaps I can draw him out," Snape said with a half-smile.
"Give it your best." Voldemort returned control to Harry for the first time in days, and Harry was unprepared to suddenly feel his legs again. He sagged and caught himself just in time on the headrest of a chair.
"Mr Potter," Snape said. He sat down and conjured a cup of tea for himself. After some consideration, Harry sat down as well, but he didn't look at Snape. "You remind me of your late godfather."
That made Harry looked up.
"Yes, it seems you share a few traits with Sirius Black. He, too, was an absolute master of moping about whenever things did not go his way."
"Don't," Harry whispered. He couldn't deal with Snape's spiteful tongue now.
"Dumbledore offered to keep him safe, and what did Black do? He complained and drank and made a complete nuisance of himself. The whole Order risked their lives for him, protected him, and all Black did was get himself killed. Of course, as he was completely useless - I have it on good authority he made a lousy godfather as well and thought of you as James only - so the Order was better off without him anyway."
"Don't you dare talk about Sirius that way!" Harry was up on his feet in a second and threw himself at Snape. Snape's tea cup went flying and Harry curled one hand around Snape's throat. "Sirius was a good godfather and he wasn't useless, you bastard!"
Snape gave Harry a satisfied sneer. "There you are, Mr Potter. Welcome back."
Harry felt the anger drain away and he released Snape's throat. He was straddling Snape, he realized, and he made to get up, but Snape caught both his wrists.
"Is it guilt that is eating you, Potter?"
Glancing down, Harry didn't say anything.
"Is the idea of being partially responsible for Miss Weasley's death what is depressing you?" Snape pulled Harry closer until their noses almost touched. "If that is the case, I must admit I'm surprised. After all, you have experience in the matter. It was your fault your godfather got killed. Had you not rushed off to the Ministry as you did, your godfather would still be alive today."
Harry wanted to punch Snape, but Snape held his arms still, so Harry squirmed on Snape's lap and kicked against the chair, and all the while Snape smiled at him.
"I daresay you're even partially responsible for Dumbledore's death. After all, you were there and yet you did nothing to aid him."
"You killed Dumbledore, you fucking bastard!" Harry drew back to slam his head against Snape's, but Snape pulled him closer yet again, and this time their noses were touching.
"Yes, Potter, I killed Dumbledore, and I actually liked the senile old coot. I cast the Killing Curse on him, at his own request, and I was far from enjoying it. And yet you do not see me wishing to die or hiding like a coward!"
"I'm not a coward," Harry whispered.
"And yet you have been acting like one all week."
Harry glanced down, touching his forehead against Snape's. "They don't know what happened."
"Who is 'they'?"
"Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys. They don't know Ginny's dead, and I can't tell them, and I hate that. How can I look at them while I know and they don't. How can I act like nothing is wrong when no one knows what really happened?"
Snape released one of Harry's wrists, placed a finger under his chin and tilted his head up until Harry met his eyes. "I know, Mr Potter. The Dark Lord knows. You are not the only one."
"Yeah, but -- "
"You've been keeping a much bigger secret for the last couple of months, and you didn't allow that to destroy you, am I correct?"
Harry considered that for a moment. "Yeah."
"Then it seems quite silly that one more secret, no matter how dire, should have you giving up on your own life."
"Maybe."
"Try again," Snape said. He was smiling again.
"Yeah, if you put it like that." Harry drew back a little so he could look into Snape's eyes. They were so black, and Harry had always thought of them as cold, but they weren't now. They burned with whatever Harry was lacking at that moment, and he leaned closer, his lips pressing against Snape's, hoping to catch some of that fire for himself.
Snape returned the kiss, and it was comforting and pleasant, with slow swipes of their tongues, and Harry's chest warmed and his belly tingled.
"Later," Snape said. He pressed one more kiss against Harry's lips, and eased him off his lap. "We have a potion to attend to now."
"All right," Harry said. He realized he was feeling disappointed with Snape's dismissal. It was good to feel something again.
*--*--*
"I believe this is it," Snape said, as they stood leaning over a cauldron. The potion inside was a deep bronze, and it looked as if it wanted to swirl, but the tiny ripples died down almost as soon as they appeared.
"Yes, I think so, too." Voldemort gave Snape a satisfied smile. "There is only one way to test it."
"We're going to steal the vessel?" Harry asked. Snape raised an eyebrow at that.
"We are going to take from Muggles what rightfully belongs to wizards," Voldemort said.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and that's called stealing in my book." He felt no real annoyance, though, since he'd known of these plans for quite some time.
"Will you be needing my assistance?" Snape asked, as he extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron.
"No, Harry and I will handle this. You can serve as our alibi this evening."
"Certainly."
"It is almost dinner time. I suggest we get something to eat, Harry," Voldemort said. "After that, we'll get the vessel."
"All right." Harry wondered if Voldemort was going to take control over him again. He'd allowed Harry control all day, ever since his little chat with Snape.
"You must once again stand on your own two legs, Harry. If everything goes to plan, I won't be around much longer to hold you up."
Harry nodded and glanced at Snape. He was unsure what to say to him. After Snape had shook him from his depression earlier, he'd been his usual self, which meant plenty of vile comments. But somehow, it had been just what Harry needed; Snape treating him like he'd always treated him.
"I'll see you later," Harry said to Snape, who replied with a curt nod. Harry gave him an uncertain smile, and left Snape's private workroom. Ron and Hermione would be in the Great Hall, and Harry wasn't sure if he could face them yet.
"You are ready to face them. You are a strong young man, Harry. How else would you have robbed me of yet another body?"
That made Harry smile, even though smiling in itself seemed like an inappropriate thing to do.
But Voldemort was right. As was Snape. Harry had been acting like a coward, and he was strong. He could face his friends. They'd always been there for him, even when things got rough. Hiding away from them now really was a cowardly thing to do.
"That's my boy."
"I'm not yours," Harry whispered. "Not yet."
Voldemort chuckled in a way that sounded like disagreement.
The Great Hall was packed, and Ron and Hermione sat in their usual places at the Gryffindor table. For a split second Harry considered leaving or begging Voldemort to take over from there. He didn't, though. He walked on, and while his head was not held high, his pace was sure.
"Hi, Harry," Hermione said, as Harry sat down opposite her. "You look tired."
"I am tired." Harry glanced at Ron, and for the first time that week he noticed Ron looked tired, too. There were dark patches beneath his eyes and his cheeks were pale. "I'm sorry," Harry said.
Ron looked up at him with a frown. "What for?"
"There are some things I wish I'd done differently."
"Be very careful, Harry."
Of course he was being careful. He wasn't an idiot. But there were some things he needed to say to get them off his chest, and while Ron and Hermione might never understand, he did.
"I wish I had done a few things differently with Ginny," Harry said, looking from Hermione to Ron. "Looking back, I know I made mistakes. I was thinking of myself, mostly, not of what Ginny might think and do. And I'm really sorry about that."
Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. "This isn't your -- "
"No." Harry held his hand up to cut Hermione off. "That's how I feel, and I needed to say that."
"It's all right," Ron said. "I know you never meant to hurt her on purpose."
"Yeah," Harry said, staring down at his plate. Ron resumed eating, but Hermione looked at Harry for a little while longer. Harry looked back at her, and for the first time that week he didn't feel like hiding anymore.
*--*--*
After dinner, Harry announced he was going to spend the evening with Snape, and he parted ways with his friends in the Entrance Hall. Once they were gone, Harry slipped outside and walked across the grounds and past the gates to the apparition point. From there, Voldemort apparated them directly to the upper floor of the British Museum. It was dark and deserted, as expected, and Harry cast a Lumos to help find his way around.
Voldemort directed him to a glass display. There stood the food bowl from the fourth dynasty, also known as Sekem's Vessel. It was an odd cross between a ceramic bowl and a flower vase. The sides were rough and decorated with dozens of hieroglyphs, which meant nothing to Harry.
"There it is," Harry said after a moment of absolute silence, since Voldemort hadn't done or said anything yet.
"Yes."
Harry stared at it for another moment, unsure why Voldemort wasn't spurring into action yet.
"I still owe you an answer, I believe."
"Ah. Yeah." Harry scuffed his shoe against the bottom of the display case. For months he'd been wishing Voldemort out of his head, and now suddenly everything seemed to be moving too fast.
"Are you still willing to make your deal?"
Harry thought about that. His first instinct was to say no, not after what had happened to Ginny. But what had happened to Ginny was exactly why he should make the deal, he realized. If he didn't, Voldemort wasn't going anywhere, and everyone Harry knew would be in immediate danger again. More so than before even, since Voldemort knew everything about them now, courtesy of his stay in Harry's mind.
"When are you going to do the ritual? Tonight?"
"Tomorrow. We'll have all Sunday that way. I suggest we leave for Grimmauld Place first thing in the morning, as we will need privacy."
"And then if it works, we would leave immediately?"
"I suggest you pack a few things first, but yes, we would not linger."
Harry swallowed, and stared at Sekem's Vessel. It was an ugly, old thing, really. He was stalling, he knew, but he felt as if he were selling his soul, even while he knew his soul had been lost many years ago when Voldemort had placed a part of his own inside him, accidentally or not.
"All right. I'm willing to make that deal."
"Then I accept. We will leave tomorrow, if the experiment is successful. If not, we carry on as before until I regain my body, and then we'll leave."
"All right," Harry said. He needed to sit down, as his knees turned to pudding, but Voldemort kept him up and at the same time slammed Harry's elbow against the glass display. Shards of glass fell to the floor around him.
"You could have used magic for that," Harry said. He was feeling a strange mixture of relief and trepidation, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders but had been placed over his chest.
"And chance polluting the vessel's magic? Certainly not." Voldemort reached inside and grasped the vessel with both hands. A warm tingle of magic ran up Harry's arms.
"Do you feel that?"
"Yeah," Harry said distractedly. He was glancing around, expecting sirens and lights to go off and bars to roll down over the windows, but nothing happened. Apparently a food bowl from the fourth dynasty wasn't worth a modern security system.
"Such pure magic. You don't find that anymore these days." Voldemort sounded breathless, as if he were in awe. It was an amusing thought, Voldemort being in awe of anything, though any kind of amusement still felt wrong to Harry.
Voldemort wrapped the vessel in Harry's Gryffindor scarf and placed it in Harry's bag.
"Are we going to see Snape now?"
"No. I suggest we go straight back to your dormitory and get some sleep. We'll need our energy tomorrow."
"Ah." Harry frowned. "So we're not seeing Snape again?" Somehow it felt strange to not say goodbye to Snape.
"We'll see him tomorrow morning when we collect the potion."
"All right. So where are we going tomorrow? Egypt?" Harry glanced around the room again at all the mysterious antiquities.
"South America."
"Huh?"
"The Inca Empire harbored several small wizarding communities. Yet no one has done any proper research on them. We will start in Cusco, Peru, and from there we can visit Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas."
Harry felt rather dumbstruck.
"My plan is not to your liking?"
"No, it is." Harry didn't know whether to smile or frown. "I just never thought I'd ever go to Peru, of all places."
"I haven't been there before, either. It will be an adventure for us both."
Harry thought that no matter where they went, living with a corporeal Voldemort was going to be an adventure.
Voldemort chuckled. "Come. Let's get back." And with a crack, he apparated them to the fields around Hogwarts' grounds.
*~*~*~*~*´
The next morning, Harry told Ron he was sleeping in and to go to breakfast without him. Once the dormitory was empty, Harry got up and threw his belongings in his trunk. He tried not to think that if Voldemort got his body back that day, he wouldn't see Ron and Hermione again.
"Write them a letter later today. We will owl it from Diagon Alley, where we'll take a port-key."
"All right," Harry said, though Voldemort's suggestion didn't make him feel any better. Leaving Hogwarts behind, leaving Ron and Hermione, was such a foreign idea, Harry had no place for it in his mind.
He moved quickly, not wanting to stall. Too many memories were captured in the castle, some good and some very bad. And Harry wanted to get away from those bad memories as fast as he could.
He shrunk his trunk, stuffed it in his pocket, slung his bag over his shoulder, and made the long trek down to the dungeons.
Snape was in his office. He'd probably been expecting them. "You have the vessel?"
"Yes," Voldemort said. He accepted the cauldron from Snape, and draped Harry's invisibility cloak over it. "I will let you know if the experiment was successful."
Snape nodded, hands clasped behind his back. He looked reluctant, somehow, but Harry wasn't sure why. "Very well. Good luck."
"Luck is for the powerless, Severus," Voldemort said, and stepped towards the door. "I won't be needing it."
Harry glanced at Snape one last time, and managed a hurried, "Bye, Professor!" before Voldemort walked out the office.
They wasted no time and went straight towards the apparition point outside the gates, where they apparated to Grimmauld Place. It wasn't until Voldemort placed both the cauldron and Sekem's Vessel on a table in the drawing room that he gave control back to Harry.
Harry's heart was hammering in his chest. This was it, then. The moment where Voldemort got his body back. Or not, should Snape have made a mistake. A part of Harry still protested the idea of standing idly by while Voldemort performed the ritual, but a larger part of him accepted that there was no getting around it.
Should Harry try to sabotage things now, he had no doubt Voldemort would go after Ron and Hermione the first chance he got.
"Smart boy. Pour the potion inside the vessel."
Harry did as ordered (though he tried to think of it as requested, really), and watched how the bronze potion started swirling inside the ceramic vessel.
"Is it supposed to do that?" Harry asked. He'd never seen a potion move like that before all on its own.
"Yes. It seems perfect."
"So now what?" Harry imagined Voldemort would have to incant spell after spell, like they'd done when they'd cast protective magic around the house.
"Now you place both hands inside the vessel."
"Are you sure?" Harry looked at the vessel dubiously, and he remembered Wormtail sobbing on the ground, clutching a bleeding stump to his chest.
Voldemort chuckled. "You will come to no harm, Harry, I promise you. It is merely a way for you to guide me into the vessel."
"Okay." Harry still wasn't convinced, but he had no real reason to object since this kind of magic went way over his head. "Now?"
"Yes."
"You don't need to perform some ritual first? Just stick my hands in it and that's it?"
"Yes."
Harry had no idea why he was stalling. This was his wish come true. Voldemort was moving out. And yet the idea of not having Voldemort inside his head any longer disturbed him. Or perhaps it was the idea of Voldemort regaining his body that was disturbing. Harry really wasn't sure anymore what to think.
"All right," he said, hovering his hands over the vessel. "So I'm doing it. Now." And he dipped his fingers into the potion, facing away from the vessel, expecting pain and suffering, but the potion felt lukewarm and nothing spectacular happened.
"Hold still. I will see you in a moment, my little Horcrux."
Harry felt something move down his arms, and it left a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The bronze potion turned black where his fingers touched it, and it started swirling harder and harder until it rose into the air like a whirlpool, higher and higher, black turning to bronze, and bronze turning to black. Light shone from within the liquid, which now reached almost as high as the ceiling. The light became brighter and warmer and Harry had to narrow his eyes as not to be blinded. He kept his hands steady inside the vessel; Voldemort hadn't told him to pull away, and since it still wasn't painful, Harry kept perfectly still.
A loud bang echoed through the room, and the light inside the whirlpool became as bright as the sun. Harry was flung backwards against the couch, and he landed with his face buried in the cushions. He scrambled to his feet. The whirlpool was gone, and there, beside the table on the floor, lay a naked figure.
Harry stepped closer and reached for his wand. He expected to see Voldemort lying there, skin as white as a skull, red eyes, slits for nostrils. But Voldemort didn't look like Voldemort. He looked like Tom Riddle.
Harry blinked. Voldemort's eyes were closed, his face turned away from Harry. He looked like he was somewhere in his twenties, and as Harry stared at him a moment longer, he realized this Tom looked exactly like the one Voldemort had let him play with in front of the mirror.
"Tom?" Harry asked. There was no response, neither inside his head or from the man on the floor, and Harry shuffled a little closer.
"Can you hear me?" Harry crouched down beside Voldemort. He wasn't moving. It looked like he wasn't even breathing. "Tom? Voldemort?"
Harry poked Voldemort in his ribs with the tip of his wand.
Nothing.
Much to Harry's surprise, he was getting worried. He should be rejoicing the idea of Voldemort not waking up, but there were too many questions without answers for that kind of feeling. What would happen to Harry if Voldemort was dead? He was a Horcrux, after all. If Voldemort died now (but how could he, with several Horcruxes still out there?), would Harry die, too?
"Tom? Wake up." Harry reached out and placed his hand against Voldemort's cheek. He felt warm enough. Harry moved his hand up and touched Voldemort's black hair. It was amazing that an ugly ceramic bowl and a smelly potion with elephant dung, among other things, had produced this body. It looked and felt so real.
It was real. It just wasn't moving. "Come on, wake up." Harry stroked his hand down again, brushing his fingers across Voldemort's lips.
Just as Harry started wondering if he should contact Snape to tell him something went wrong with the ritual, Voldemort stirred. Hazel eyes flew open and stared up at Harry.
"Hi," Harry said, startled. He dropped his hand at once and sat back.
"Harry," Voldemort said. He sounded as if he'd just woken up from a particularly good night's sleep. Slowly, he sat up and stared down his own body.
"You...er...look different," Harry said, though he figured Voldemort would notice that on his own well enough.
"Now you see why I chose to use Sekem's Vessel." Voldemort looked up and smiled at Harry. "I got to select my new form. And since you seemed to enjoy this body so very much, well..."
Harry's cheeks flushed. Playing with Tom Riddle in the mirror had all been a silly illusion, but now Tom Riddle was sitting here, right in front of him, making suggestive comments. Particular parts of Harry stirred to life with teasing tingles of arousal, while Harry kept telling himself this was Voldemort, his enemy, the bastard who had killed his parents and Ginny. He pushed himself up to his feet and stared at the floor.
Voldemort got up as well, stretching elaborately. He seemed unconcerned with his nudity in front of Harry. Then again, they'd been intimate before. They'd shared a body for months. That was about as intimate as it could possibly get.
"Come, let me take a closer look," Voldemort said. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulders and steered him out the room and up the stairs. Harry let him, as he didn't know what else to do. He'd bargained his life away to Voldemort, after all.
"Ah, yes." Voldemort tilted his head as he studied his reflection in the mirror in Harry's room. "This body should do just fine, don't you think?"
"Well," Harry said, as he stared at the poster of the Chudley Cannons beside the wardrobe. "It's a lot less conspicuous than your previous one, sure."
Voldemort chuckled. It sounded exactly like it had in Harry's mind, and it still warmed his insides. Voldemort ran his hands from his face down his throat, and across his chest. He let them linger over his penis and testicles, and finally stroked his thighs.
And Harry watched, mesmerized. He didn't want to look, but it was hard not to when the subject of most of his fantasies stood not three feet away from him. Harry once again reminded himself this was Voldemort. Evil, insane Voldemort. Naked, handsome Voldemort.
No. Harry shook his head, eyes closed. He didn't want to think of Voldemort in that way. Before, Tom Riddle had been nothing but an illusion in a mirror. Now, Tom Riddle was Voldemort. Of course, Tom and Voldemort had always been the same person, Harry knew that, but it had never been more clear to him than at that exact moment.
"There is no shame in wanting something, Harry." Voldemort sounded very close, and as Harry opened his eyes he saw Voldemort standing right in front of him, their bodies barely an inch apart. Harry looked up at Voldemort's hazel eyes and noticed his devious smile.
Voldemort leaned his head down to kiss Harry, but Harry turned his face away. "No. I can't."
"Come now, my little Horcrux." Voldemort brushed his lips across Harry's cheek down to his throat. "After everything we've done together?" A slick tongue licked up to Harry's ear. "After all the times you touched yourself watching me in the mirror?" Teeth nipped at Harry's earlobe. "After all the times we fucked Severus together?" Wet lips closed around Harry's earlobe and suckled for a second. "After all the times you let me pleasure you?"
Harry groaned, and placed a hand against Voldemort's chest to push him away. But his strength abandoned him, and he sagged against Voldemort's naked body.
Voldemort kissed his way towards Harry's mouth, and whispered against his lips, "I have dreamed about this."
Despite his best efforts not to get aroused, that admission sent a surge of heat towards his groin, and Harry closed the minuscule gap between their mouths. Voldemort's lips (or were they Tom's lips?) felt soft, yet the kiss was anything but gentle. Voldemort took control in a way Snape never did, and Harry surrendered, because he had no reason to fight anymore.
"You are mine," Voldemort said, and licked the tip of his tongue across Harry's lips. "You are a part of me. You always will be."
Harry didn't say anything, as he didn't want to admit Voldemort was probably right. He pressed first his lips and then the rest of him against Voldemort, and let the heat inside him burn away the memories of the past week. At least for a little while.
Voldemort unbuttoned Harry's robes, and they fell to the ground. He pulled Harry's shirt off over his head, taking his glasses with them. Trousers, pants, socks and shoes all followed in rapid succession, and Harry slid his arms around Voldemort's neck, naked skin against naked skin. He kissed Voldemort's throat, and Voldemort ran his hands across Harry's back and cupped his arse.
"You're going to...er..." Harry buried his nose against Voldemort's throat.
"Fuck you? Yes." Voldemort chased Harry's mouth and captured it with his own.
The idea of letting Voldemort fuck him was a little daunting, yet at the same time Harry felt the heat inside him grow. He'd enjoyed Voldemort pushing his fingers up his arse after his initial reluctance. And Snape always seemed to like Harry thrusting his cock in his arse. It couldn't be that bad.
"You will enjoy it, I'll make sure of that," Voldemort said. He pressed one more kiss against Harry's lips and then pushed him onto the bed. He followed Harry down, spreading Harry's legs as he went. Closing his eyes, Harry groaned at the feeling of hands touching his thighs and lips kissing their way up his chest.
Perhaps he shouldn't think this was Voldemort - insane, evil, murdering Voldemort -- but instead think of it as sex with a random, handsome bloke. Fingers brushed against his pucker, and somehow it felt like defeat, letting Voldemort (no, don't think that!) touch him there. And yet Harry couldn't stop, no matter this was his enemy in the flesh.
His life belonged to Voldemort now. Handing over his body seemed like such a small sacrifice to make after that.
His life for the life of his friends and all the people in Britain. Not such a bad deal at all.
Harry arched his back when slick fingers pushed inside him. He cracked his eyes open and saw Voldemort holding his wand, and the flutter of nervousness that followed only added to his arousal. He felt full, and yet he wanted more. He bucked his hips, urging Voldemort on. It still was a strange thought, to enjoy taking something up his arse, but his body didn't lie; it felt so fucking good.
"Relax, Harry," Voldemort said, leaning down so his face hovered above Harry's. "You are mine. Let me show you."
Harry nodded, and sucked in a sharp breath when Voldemort's fingers slipped from his arse. He knew what was coming next - oh God, yes, there. Voldemort's cock pushed inside, brushing across that little spot and making Harry's toes curl.
"Yes, very good," Voldemort said. He sounded breathless. Harry didn't think he could speak at that moment, even if he tried. Voldemort hooked his arms behind Harry's knees and pulled them up, sliding into Harry deeper with a slow thrust of his hips.
"How is that? All right?"
Harry gasped something that sounded like a 'yes' and bared his throat. Voldemort lowered his head and licked and bit at Harry's offering. Voldemort was inside him, different than before, but better. This felt far better than hearing voices in his head, Harry decided. He wrapped his arms around Voldemort's shoulders and pulled him even closer.
Voldemort kept his thrusts slow and deep, and every time he pushed back inside, Harry let out a strangled moan. Voldemort was fucking him. That thought alone was disturbing, but combined with the feeling of a hard cock sliding in and out of him, it was exhilarating. He could definitely understand why Snape liked this so much.
"A little faster now, yes?" Voldemort's narrowed eyes glinted with something Harry couldn't identify. Pleasure? Arousal? Triumph? Whatever it was, it mesmerized Harry, and he bucked his hips to say 'yes, do whatever you like'. Voldemort picked up pace, and his quick thrusts provided a marvelous friction against Harry's trapped cock.
He was going to come soon, he knew. He wanted to come, as the heat inside him reached unbearable heights. He buried his nose against Voldemort's hair and inhaled. Voldemort smelled strange. Masculine, yes, but there was something stronger underneath. Magic, perhaps. Yeah, Voldemort smelled like magic, and it made Harry's nose twitch and his skin tingle, and he was so close now.
Voldemort made little sounds as he thrust harder and harder, not as loud as Harry's panted breaths. Close, very close now, and Harry clawed at Voldemort's shoulders. If he just went a little harder and a little deeper, and yes...
Groaning, Harry came with slick spurts between their bodies. Voldemort thrust in a way that prolonged the thick waves of pleasure, until breathing became hard and the friction on his spent prick was too much.
Voldemort found Harry's mouth, and kissed him with rough strokes of his tongue. A deep groan, and Voldemort's body stilled, his twitching cock buried deep inside Harry.
"My Harry," Voldemort whispered, slowing his thrusts down and down until they both lay still.
Harry looked into Voldemort's eyes and smiled. He didn't know what else to do. The aftermath of his orgasm, the feeling of release and bliss made it impossible to think of horrible things. Voldemort had fucked him. It had been very good. That was enough for now.
Gently, Voldemort slipped out of Harry and rolled them both on their sides, Harry pulled closely against him.
It was a weird thought to cuddle in Voldemort's arms, but it didn't feel unpleasant. Harry closed his eyes, and suddenly realized he was free to think what he wanted for the first time in months. No more worrying about Voldemort overhearing anything. He could think about killing Voldemort. He could plot and scheme. He might do that, later, when he wasn't feeling as exhausted.
Part 7