The Semblance of Peace, part 7
Harry woke up to a pair of hazel eyes watching him. He was so used to hearing Voldemort's voice in his head first thing in the morning, it was very strange to see Voldemort instead. And not just see; Harry was lying against him, his arm draped across Voldemort's chest.
He smacked his lips and tried to sit up. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."
Voldemort had an arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders and pulled him a little closer. "It's only just midday. We still have plenty of time to pack and catch a port-key."
"I don't like port-keys," Harry said, and then remembered why. "That's your fault, actually."
A smile appeared on Voldemort's face, but it didn't make him look any kinder. "Oh, I think we shouldn't break with our tradition of using port-keys whenever you help me get a body."
Sighing, Harry let his head fall to Voldemort's chest. He wasn't in the mood for silly jokes now. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever be in the mood for that again. He rested his chin on Voldemort and looked up at his face.
"You killed my parents. You killed Ginny."
"Yes," Voldemort said, and pressed a kiss on Harry's forehead. "I did."
"I will never forgive you for that."
"I don't expect you to."
"Right." Harry swallowed. "Just as long as that's clear."
"Crystal." Voldemort sounded a tad mocking, but Harry didn't expect him to actually care about what Harry felt. He knew that would be a very stupid thing to do. "Come," Voldemort said, and eased Harry up. "It's time to go."
They showered together, but it wasn't as strange as Harry might have expected. After all, he'd showered with Voldemort just about every day for the last few months. The only difference now was that Voldemort took up more space in the shower stall. Plus, the view was better.
Harry kept sneaking glances at Voldemort's brand-new naked body as he washed his hair and ran a bar of soap across his skin.
"I liked it," Harry said, and gestured between them. "The...er...sex."
"Good. I liked it, too." Voldemort caught Harry's face with his hands and gave him a long, deep kiss that made Harry's heart pound in his chest.
Should he enjoy kissing and touching Voldemort? Probably not. But it made things between them a lot easier, if he could enjoy at least something about their arrangement. Harry wasn't so stupid to think he should play the part of martyr now that he'd signed his life away.
They dried off quickly, and Voldemort used Harry's toothbrush, which seemed like such a funny thing to do. Voldemort noticed his smile and returned it. Two enemies smiling at each other over the bathroom sink. Things couldn't possibly get anymore surreal than that, Harry mused.
Harry got dressed in his usual attire, while Voldemort went through Harry's wardrobe and selected plain, black robes. He adjusted the size with Harry's wand, since he was taller and broader in the shoulders than Harry.
The sight of Voldemort using his wand so casually tied Harry's stomach into a tight knot. He tried not to stare, but Voldemort noticed it anyway.
"You will get your wand back later. I have one stashed away somewhere for emergencies. We'll pick it up before we go to Diagon Alley."
"All right," Harry said. He wasn't worried Voldemort was going to hurt him with his wand, but he wasn't sure what Voldemort might do if they ran into anyone else.
Voldemort confiscated and adjusted a pair of Harry's boxers as well, and then frowned at Harry's shoe collection: three pairs of trainers. Harry started snickering, because the idea of Voldemort wearing trainers was so funny it broke through his morose state.
"Honestly," Voldemort said, and charmed a pair black before adjusting their size. "We will get you some proper footwear before we leave the country."
"I like trainers," Harry said, still laughing.
"Then we will get me something proper to wear." Sighing, Voldemort sat down on the edge of the bed, a disdainful sneer on his face.
"Do you have any money?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing they had to live off something, and Voldemort didn't seem like the type to get a job somewhere to pay the bills.
"Plenty."
"Oh. Me too. Do I need to empty my Gringott's vault before we leave?"
Voldemort stared at him. "There is still so much you need to learn about our world, isn't there? You can access your vault from around the world by use of local Gringott's offices."
Harry shrugged. He checked the bedside tables and the wardrobe, deposited a few more things in his trunk, and then concluded that he was packed and ready to go. Voldemort shrank his trunk, and Harry looked up at him expectantly. Voldemort nodded, and waved him towards the door.
"You need a new name," Harry said, as they were halfway down the stairs. "You can't go around being Lord Voldemort anymore. People will notice."
Voldemort snorted.
"Tom Riddle is -- "
"I am not using my Muggle father's name."
"I was going to say Tom Riddle's too infamous as well in certain circles," Harry said. He frowned at Voldemort as they walked through the hallway down to the kitchen. "And if you hate that name so much, why did you use those exact letters to make a new name with?"
Voldemort gave him an incredulous look, and Harry quickly ducked inside the kitchen, grinning. "You do need a new name."
"I will think of something." Voldemort opened a drawer and handed Harry parchment and quill. "Go write your friends a farewell letter. I will settle things with Severus in the meantime."
Harry stared at the parchment and thought about all the things he needed to tell Ron and Hermione. He'd ask Hermione to look after Hedwig, as she didn't have an owl of herself. He'd just tell them he needed time for himself and wanted to see something of the world, which wasn't a lie, exactly.
From the corner of his eye he saw Voldemort grab some floo-powder and throw it into the fireplace. "Severus Snape's Hogwarts quarters!" And with a flash of green flames he was gone.
Harry looked back at his parchment, his stomach tight with nerves about telling Ron and Hermione he was leaving. But was that all he was nervous about? Harry looked up at the fireplace again. What had Voldemort said? He needed to settle things with Snape. What things?
You're never going to stop, are you? he heard himself say in his memory of the dreadful events in the Chamber of Secrets.
Fuck! Voldemort wasn't going to settle things with Snape, he was going to --
Harry almost fell out of his chair as he made a dash for the fireplace. He threw in floo-powder and shouted out his destination, meanwhile thinking he was so fucking stupid for letting Voldemort keep his wand.
He tumbled out of the fireplace and onto Snape's rug. The sitting room looked like a disaster area with upturned furniture, parchment everywhere, and scorch marks on the walls. And in the middle stood Voldemort, wand aimed at Snape, who stood against one of the bookcases, appearing wandless.
"No!" Harry flung himself at Voldemort, just when the Killing Curse fell from Voldemort's lips. He knocked against Voldemort's arm, and a flash of green light exploded against the ceiling.
"Harry, do not anger me!"
"You fucking bastard!" Harry positioned himself between Voldemort and Snape, both hands curled around Voldemort's wand arm. "Why the hell do you want to kill him now?"
"He is a liability. He knows too much."
"He's under a vow!" Harry glanced at Snape across his shoulder. Snape looked paler than usual, but seemed fine enough.
Snape sneered at him. "This is just what I need. Another Potter running to my rescue."
"Shut up and let me do this," Harry said, looking back at Voldemort.
"The vow only applied to my previous state, Harry. Snape knows this, I'm sure, and the minute we walk out of here, he will be in touch with a few of Dumbledore's old friends."
Harry gaped between Voldemort and Snape. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't have a wand, and he could tell Voldemort's patience with him was wearing thin. He didn't want Snape to die. Snape had helped them. Snape had let Harry fuck him. Snape had been...useful.
That was it.
"We don't have to kill him," Harry said, tugging on Voldemort's arm, trying to get him to lower it. "We could take him with us. He's useful."
For the first time, Voldemort glanced down at Harry. "And let him stab me in my back yet again?"
Harry shook his head. "He could take a new vow."
"Potter." That was Snape, and Harry turned to look at him. "I have no desire to spend the rest of my life as the Dark Lord's servant." He gave Harry a hard stare. "I'd rather he kill me now."
Voldemort chuckled, and pulled to get Harry's hands off his arm.
"No!" Harry said. He wasn't going to get Snape killed. He'd seen enough death. "You wouldn't be his servant. I'm not his servant. I'm just his...something. A companion."
"I do not need another companion," Voldemort said.
"But he's useful! I don't know anything. I'm just there to be your Horcrux. Snape's actually smart and he knows potions and Dark Arts." He glanced at Snape again. "We're going to Peru to study ancient magic at Pricka Choochoo. You'd like that, too."
"Machu Picchu," Voldemort said. He stared at Snape, waiting for his reply. Snape frowned. He didn't seem convinced yet.
"You'd only have to vow not to kill him," Harry said, desperate to get Snape to agree with this. He would not see Snape dead. "You wouldn't have to obey him all the time. I'm not going to."
Arching an eyebrow, Voldemort looked at Harry.
"Well, no," Harry said, shrugging. "I'm not your servant. That wasn't part of the deal."
Voldemort gave a little sniff, but he still didn't lower his wand.
"Come on," Harry said to Snape. "It wouldn't be so bad, just the three of us somewhere in South America. I bet they have lots of neat potions ingredients there you could collect and experiment with." He tugged on Voldemort's arm again. "And you'd only have to promise not to treat him as a servant. No ordering him around, and no punishing him with Unforgivables. And when I get on your nerves, you can tell me to go pester him for a while."
Snape snorted at that and shook his head. "It is up to the Dark Lord at this point."
"As long as Severus is willing to take a new vow."
"He is!" Harry said, before Snape could even reply. "All right?" he asked, glancing at Snape again. His neck was getting sore from craning it back and forth.
Sighing, Snape nodded. "Peru?"
"It's not Britain," Harry said, grinning. "He picked it."
"I suspected as much." Snape inhaled a deep breath. "I will take a new vow if the Dark Lord does the same."
"Certainly not!" Voldemort narrowed his eyes.
"If I am to vow not to kill you, you will vow not to kill me."
"It's a fair deal," Harry said, offering Voldemort an encouraging smile. "I'd take it, if I were you."
"You are not me, Harry."
"I am a part of you. So my opinion does count for something."
Voldemort studied Harry's face for a moment. "You want Snape to live? Are you willing to take a vow of your own for that?"
"A vow not to kill you?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea.
"Yes. Vows all around," Voldemort said. "I am feeling generous today."
"So we'd all vow not to kill each other?" Harry worried his lip. He was trying to see the advantages of it. Snape would live, that was one. And Voldemort would never be able to kill Harry in a fit of rage, that was two. They'd all live. No one would die. It seemed like a deal worth making. "All right."
"In that case, I accept," Snape said. He pushed himself away from the bookcase, just as Voldemort finally lowered his wand.
"Yours has rolled under the couch, Severus," Voldemort said, his tone friendly, as though he hadn't just cast a Killing Curse at Snape.
"Yes, I noticed." Snape knelt and fished his wand out from under the couch. "When are we leaving?"
"As soon as you pack whatever belongings you want to take with you."
"My clothes, my private potions stock, and these books."
Voldemort nodded, transfigured two chairs into trunks, and gave the command 'pack'. Books flew from the shelves, stacking themselves neatly inside the trunks.
Harry released a deep sigh. He'd never understand the relationship between Voldemort and Snape. One moment, they were trying to kill each other, and the next, they were being helpful to each other. Well, as long as there was no killing, Harry wasn't complaining.
"This is actually a really good turn of events," he said. Both Voldemort and Snape glanced at him. "Snape coming with us, I mean. Now I have a better reason for leaving, and for my friends not to come find me. We can say me and Snape eloped or something."
Snape looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon, and Voldemort laughed, shaking his head in obvious amusement.
"It is not a bad plan, Severus," Voldemort said.
"Bad, no," Snape said, sneering. "Preposterous, yes. But tell your friends what you will, Potter. I'd rather they think we're eloping then have them visit and discover the identity of your new boyfriend."
Harry imagined the bloodbath that would surely follow should Ron and Hermione ever discover he was living with Voldemort. Not just living with him, but shagging him as well.
"Yeah," he said with a shudder. "I'm sure your pleasant personality will ward off any curiosity on their part."
Snape shot him a nasty stare, but Harry could tell there wasn't much anger behind it. Snape looked too surprised and relieved to still be alive for that.
"Go write your letter, Harry." Voldemort steered Harry towards Snape's desk. "We will pack in the meantime."
Harry sat down and reached for parchment and quill. How to tell his friends he was leaving? He'd have to lie, and while he hated it, he knew it was in their best interest if they never discovered the truth. He dipped the quill into the ink bottle and started to write.
Dear Ron and Hermione,
I'm sorry to leave like this, but it's better this way. I need to spend some time away from Britain, and Snape feels the same, so we've decided to go see something of the world together.
I'm not sure when I'll be back, or even if I'll ever come back. I've done my best to fulfill everyone's expectations, and it wasn't always easy. I've made mistakes. I'm trying to do something good now. Good for me, and good for everyone else. The wizarding world can do without me now that Voldemort is gone.
Not sure where we'll end up, but I'll write to let you know I've arrived safely where ever our destination will be. Don't worry about me, please. I'm all right. I need to do this, I hope you can understand that.
Hermione, I'm giving Hedwig to you. Please take good care of her, and tell her I'm sorry to leave her behind. Ron, I'm taking my Firebolt with me. Sorry, mate. Please take good care of Hermione. Give my best to your family, and tell your parents I'm sorry for the way I treated Ginny.
I'll be fine. Snape's with me, and he won't let me get into too much trouble.
Your friend,
Harry
Sighing, he leaned back and read the letter over. He startled when a hand touched his shoulder. Voldemort was standing behind him.
"Very good, Harry." He pressed a kiss to Harry's temple. "Come, we're done packing. It is time to take our vows before we leave."
"Yeah." Harry folded the parchment and tucked it in his pocket. He got up and accepted his wand when Voldemort offered it to him. He stood between Voldemort and Snape, and once they clasped their hands, Harry aimed his wand at them.
It wouldn't be a perfect life, he knew. It certainly wasn't the life he'd envisioned for himself. Traveling the world with Voldemort and Snape, two people who had been his enemies for as long as he could remember. And yet Harry knew it could have been a whole lot worse.
Not a perfect life, but it would do.
*--*--*
Epilogue
The house they rented in Cusco was small, but comfortable. Voldemort saw to that, as did Snape. Harry learned a lot about household magic.
They posed as Muggle scholars from Oxford, there to study the lost city of the Incas. Well, Voldemort and Snape posed as scholars. Harry was their research assistant, since they claimed he was still too young to be a scholar. Harry suspected foul play, but decided not to complain. He'd learned to pick his battles.
Voldemort behaved himself reasonably well, though he still treated every Muggle he met with arrogance and contempt. Snape wasn't much better when it came to it. Harry heard a group of American researchers call them 'those fucking snobs from Europe' once, and he'd wisely not mentioned that to Voldemort. He'd learned when to keep his mouth shut.
There had only been one incident so far, when one of the American researchers had asked them suspiciously how they managed to get up the mountain so damned quickly every day, while it took everyone else hours by bus to get there. Snape had altered the man's memory while Harry had distracted Voldemort so he didn't have time to cast a Killing Curse. Harry learned he and Snape made a good team when it came to keeping their wild dragon under control.
They argued. They bickered. They cursed. They threw tantrums. Voldemort threatened Harry and Snape with the Cruciatus Curse at least twice a week, but he never cast it. Harry learned that make-up sex was the best thing ever invented (well, except for Quidditch).
Harry wrote Ron and Hermione every other week, telling them a few random things about his new life, though he never gave away his exact location. They sent him letters back through an anonymous Muggle mail service. They were doing fine, though they worried about Ginny as she'd still not been found. Harry learned that the knowledge that his remaining friends were safe was a great medicine against guilt and grief.
Harry hated all those bloody tourists with their flashing cameras and inane questions that visited Machu Picchu day after day. Voldemort did, too. As did Snape. Harry learned that even enemies could have something in common.
Harry's Spanish sucked. Snape wasn't much better at it, though he claimed otherwise. Voldemort learned to speak it fluently in just three weeks. After having ordered testicles one night (much to Snape's and Voldemort's amusement), Harry learned it was best not to be stubborn every minute of the day and let Voldemort order whenever they ate in a local restaurant.
Voldemort discovered a lot about the magic used by the wizarding Inca communities. It was a slow process of studying ruins, reading Muggle books, research and translating, but Voldemort's enthusiasm for the subject was so infectious, Harry soon stopped messing about and actively involved himself in the process. Harry learned that uncovering ancient magic, which had been lost for generations, and experimenting with it was really very interesting.
They had sex often, in various combinations, and the only rule seemed to be that Voldemort only topped and never bottomed. Harry enjoyed both, as did Snape, so there was never any problem finding a pleasant position for all three of them, though Harry learned that he liked being in the middle best.
One evening, after a particularly energetic shag (which had been preceded by a particularly nasty argument), Harry lay slick with sweat and other things between Voldemort and Snape.
Voldemort pressed a lazy kiss against Harry's lips, and rolled onto his back, eyes closed. Harry stared at him for a while until Voldemort's breathing deepened.
"I think he's asleep," he whispered.
"Hmm." Snape had his eyes closed. "If you'd keep your mouth shut, I'd be asleep as well."
Harry grinned. "I'm hungry. Are there any of those chocolate biscuits left?"
"No. He ate them all." Snape never called Voldemort by his name, not his old one nor his new one (Voldemort's Muggle passport said Joseph Taylor, after much, much deliberation of what constituted a good, anonymous Muggle name). Harry still thought of him as Voldemort, and called him Tom in private.
"He doesn't even like chocolate. You ate them all, didn't you?" Harry glared at Snape, but seeing that Snape had his eyes closed, it did him little good.
"It must have been the house-elf," Snape said, smirking.
"We don't have a house-elf, you bastard." Harry crossed his arms and stared up at the ceiling. He felt another argument brewing, and he wondered if Snape and Voldemort were up for another round of sex afterward.
"Potter." Snape never called Harry by his first name, not even during or right after sex. Harry didn't mind. He was used to it. "You have his memories, yes?"
"Yeah." Harry glanced at Snape, wondering what he was getting at.
"I am merely wondering why you never accessed them to retrieve certain information."
"What information?"
Snape opened his eyes and glanced at Harry. "About certain parts of him."
"Oh." Harry suspected Snape meant the Horcruxes. It was true, of course. He could have called up those memories and he'd have known if Voldemort was lying about whether or not Harry was the last Horcrux. It had been impossible to do when Voldemort had still been in his head, and then things had moved so fast and Harry had been too busy not getting anyone else killed, he hadn't thought of it.
And now he couldn't kill Voldemort. The vow saw to that.
He gave Snape an uncertain smile. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. We're here, we're alive, and he's not killing anyone." Snape inclined his head at that.
Beside Harry, Voldemort stirred. A slow smile crept onto his face as he turned on his side, draping an arm over Harry's chest. He nuzzled the hair above Harry's ear and whispered, "That's my little Horcrux."
** The End **