Chapter Text
Epilogue 2 – Back
''So this… can take me back?'' Harry asked with uncertainty.
''Back or forwards,'' Dumbledore nodded. ''I will not force you to go along with my plans once again, I can only give you advice, and I just did. Join me on my ride, and you might be reunited with your parents and other loved ones. Take the other and have one more adventure before the final one.''
Harry hesitated, still trying to take in the new revelations. None of the thoughts that popped into his mind made any sense. Another chance at life… but one where he'd have to live with the knowledge of that he could change Voldemort's insanity with love? Up until this moment, that notion hadn't even been on his mind at all. It was impossible, surely. Dumbledore always trusted in the power of love far too much…
Or did he? The Headmaster had been right in the end. Lily's love had protected Harry all those years, even through the sister who hated her. Now, it was Voldemort's love that created this opportunity at a second chance... for the both of them.
''Do you think he deserves it?'' Harry asked uncertainly. ''After everything? You once asked me with astonishment if I felt sorry for him. You would have done anything to remove Voldemort from this world.''
''I did not know then what I do now. I once said that the only cure for Horcruxes was feeling remorse. I only told you that because you asked, not because I believed it to be a possible outcome. His capability to feel reaches far beyond my expectations. I was a poor observer during my lifetime Harry, blinded by my own past. I never wanted to create another Dark Lord, but I am afraid that I may have done so. Had I believed in Tom more, who knows what would have changed.''
''You gave him chances. Many chances to tell you what was going on, to take your advice. Our upbringings weren't so dissimilar, yet I didn't turn out anything like him!''
''No, you did not,'' Dumbledore smiled with slight pride in his voice. ''You always stayed true to your heart. It is my belief that you should continue to do so.''
Harry closed his eyes. He should have expected such an answer from Dumbledore. He was so tired of running, of fighting, of bearing responsibility. Going forwards and never looking back sounded tempting. He might see his family again, his godfather, friends…
But it wouldn't be right. It would completely contradict everything he'd done before, all the times he'd thrown himself in danger for others. If there was even the slightest possibility of setting things right, it had to be grabbed with both hands. Voldemort was not beyond saving, no-one ever was. He would have to pay for his crimes, and so would his followers, but he didn't need to die.
''I'm going back,'' he spoke, taking a deep breath afterwards. This was it then. Whatever consequences would be waiting, it was better than moving on and remaining passive. There was a glimmer of hope on the horizon that came with this opportunity. If the Headmaster was right, Harry wouldn't need to worry anymore about Horcruxes or being killed. Perhaps he and everyone else from his generation would finally be able to enjoy life instead of playing soldiers in a war they'd been born into.
Looking up to Dumbledore, he asked: ''Will we meet again one day?''
''When the time will have come and you still wish to, I'll be waiting,'' Dumbledore smiled. ''This is only goodbye for now. Good luck.''
They walked to trains on the opposite end of the platform. Harry stopped only briefly to throw a last look at the wailing piece of soul he'd leave behind. How would things have turned out if he'd have realised much sooner that he'd become a Horcrux that fateful day? So many missed chances then… he wouldn't miss this one. He barely walked through the doors of the waiting train when he started hearing voices again and the world around him turned dark.
He slowly became aware of the damp ground he lay on, face-first. He shut his eyes and evened out his breath as a shadow fell over him and someone kneeled at his side, someone who made a strangled noise as they turned Harry over. The teen already knew who it was, and thought it better to let it sink into Voldemort for a while that he'd really committed another murder, for he had no idea how much time had passed. How long did remorse take to settle in? Had it already been there before the Killing curse had been fired? Would it fade instantly if the Dark Lord would notice he hadn't succeeded?
Cold arms hoisted him up and Harry found himself awkwardly held, half lying over the pair of bony upper legs of Voldemort's kneeling form, half pressed into the man's chest. Another anguished sound reached his ears, and something wet hit Harry's cheek. It was in that moment that Harry couldn't keep still anymore, eyes flying open with shock. For a moment, their gazes met, and there was nowhere for Voldemort to hide the tears that ran down his face. It was a terrifying sight, he looked feral with his glistening, crimson eyes, almost as if they were made of blood.
Harry cried out as he was dropped to the floor harshly when Voldemort jumped up, staring at him still. Despite the stinging pain that shot through his back at the impact, he scrambled to his feet again in moments, not wanting to waste precious time in which the other was still thrown off. To prevent the Dark Lord from going for his wand, Harry propelled himself forward and grabbed Voldemort's arms, crashing into him a tad more forceful than intended.
''Listen, we both have a choice here,'' he breathlessly spoke. ''I already made my decision, now the rest is up to you. Allow me to help you or kill me again. I'll stay dead this time and judging by your reaction, you don't want that.''
''How…''
''I'll tell you if you let me live and move us both away from here.''
He could see that his words intrigued the other. Voldemort wasn't used to being out of his depth, and desperately wanted to know what had just happened. Harry held that over him as bait.
As a yew wand was drawn, Harry stiffened, only relaxing marginally when Voldemort said: ''One moment,'' and pointed it at the castle. Dozens of faces were still pressed up to the windows and Harry could see the Carrows looking stupidly at them. The air shimmered and it was as if a transparent sheet covered the entire castle. Harry had never seen a spell of that magnitude.
''What is that?''
''We all have our secrets, it appears,'' was Voldemort's only comment. He then stiffly walked over to Harry and held out his arm. The streaks of tears that had stained pale cheeks before had mysteriously disappeared. Harry took the arm carefully, realising with slight unease that he was incredibly aware of them touching and how close they stood to each other.
''Before we go…'' he said, for he had no doubts that they were about to apparate to some unknown location. With Voldemort having the ultimate rule over Hogwarts at this point, he'd surely be able to negate the apparition wards. Wordlessly, the Dark Lord lowered his head in a fluid movement just as Harry raised to his toes, their foreheads meeting mid-way. It was more than it had been before, more than the symbol of rivalry they had both thought it to be.
It was only theirs now and could mean whatever they wanted it to.
Rumours ran rampant throughout the Wizarding World about the events that had transpired at Hogwarts. Witnesses told the Prophet of a great duel that had ended with both wizards vanishing amidst a display of wild magic. Encouraged by the fight, students and teachers took out their tormenters, taking back Hogwarts. Weeks passed without a word from either Harry Potter or the Dark Lord, weeks became months. The remaining members of the Order used the increasing chaos in the Ministry and Voldemort's ranks for a last desperate rebellion. They succeeded partially, being forced to retreat in the end, but not before convincing many others to join them now the Dark Lord was not in the picture.
Said man was far away, focusing on entirely different matters altogether, at the moment shattering every single piece of furniture around him.
''You won't get them back by being angry,'' Harry reminded him, leaning against the doorframe. ''I already told you over and over why the Horcruxes are losing life.''
Voldemort snarled and picked up Hufflepuff's cup. Dark liquid seeped out of the many cracks that had appeared. ''I'll make another then, enough to replace the ones I lost and the ones I am losing now. This is your fault.''
''Yes,'' the teen answered. The flat, tired tone made Voldemort pause and look up. ''If it makes you feel better, I'll take the blame. Who is at fault doesn't change that you won't be able to keep them anymore. The same will happen. If you'd actually listen to me for once, you'd be able to see it too.''
He felt very much for throwing another Killing curse at the blasted boy to see if he'd really stay dead. It was a feeling that faded quickly, and he carefully placed the bleeding cup on the floor as the table was in pieces. ''You said you'd help me,'' he accused.
''I'm trying to. The answer doesn't lie in immortality! You keep getting stuck on that over and over again! I know you are intelligent, so why can't you grasp this simple concept of that possibly, I can help you in more ways than trying to preserve the murder trophies that tore your soul apart!''
''If I do not solve this soon, the idiots that are on top now will destroy my country,'' he growled. ''I need to get back.'' All of this was ludicrous and as days passed, he didn't know anymore why he humoured the boy by staying here, cut off from the outside world as Harry had demanded in exchange for his 'help'. Without his guidance, the Death Eaters couldn't be trusted to keep on a straight path. The unworthy would gain strength again and spread their poison… Muggles would discover them, trample them.
''I do not need any other help than with healing my Horcruxes,'' he stubbornly hissed. ''You seem to forget that I won, Harry. The country is at my feet, I am revered, magic is spreading even into the Muggle world. You keep talking about forgiveness and second chances, but I cannot comprehend why. Everything is good as it is, I do not strive to gain the acceptance of the last few remaining people who refuse to acknowledge their place in this world. If you do not wish to recognise that, then perhaps you shouldn't have returned at all.''
He stared hard at emerald eyes in which he could see only pity, the last thing that he needed. '' I know you don't mean what you just said. I won't give up on you,'' the teen said, jaw hardening before he marched out of the room.
''I don't need to be saved!'' he yelled after the retreating form. ''Harry! Come back here this instant!''
Harry did not come back that day, but he did the day after, and the one after that. Months passed in a blur with Voldemort trying to save the last drops of life that tied him to this earth while Harry sat and watched, talking about everything and nothing. Voldemort had not forgotten about the rest of Britain, but it was only an afterthought on his weary mind. Each time that one of his vessels turned to nothing more than a common object in his hands, he despaired. So much so, that he failed to notice small aspects that changed in his life. The way magic flowed a tad more freely, or the way that his anger or occasional joy became more nuanced with time.
The last former Horcrux was Nagini. From the first day, she'd fallen ill. Her movements had been slow as she was in great pain, and she had refused to speak to him for most of the time they'd spent here. Storing his soul in her had been a grave error that she suffered greatly from. Seven months later, she was drained of any and all magic. The moment that the last drop left her, her form suddenly came to life again. Voldemort, who had prepared for the worst, watched in astonishment as she heaved herself up and curled around him for an embrace.
~I thought you would die,~ he spoke, uncaring that his voice broke slightly. Harry couldn't understand the language anymore now the Horcrux was gone, so none would ever have to know.
~Me too~ she hissed back. ~I am sorry, I could not protect you like you wanted. I tried to hold onto what you gave me.~
~You did well, Nagini. Rest now.~
''She still lives,'' Harry spoke when they were lying on the large bed together afterwards. Voldemort didn't answer, staring at the pictures of his Muggle ancestors on the wall. He'd never expected to return to Riddle manor, least of all with his nemesis. There was nothing more natural now than to watch the boy run through the house as if he owned it. ''Other than what you would like to believe, getting rid of the Dark magic inside of her was a cure. I too feel less burdened nowadays than I used to.''
There were grains of truth in those words, which Voldemort was reluctant to admit. As more Horcruxes 'died', he felt more mentally stable than before, as if a fog had slowly lifted. When thinking it through now, he noticed one detail that he'd entirely overlooked before. Horcruxes died with their containers. They were so tied to the object that they became the object. However, all items were still intact, and both of his living Horcruxes were very healthy and alive.
''They didn't vanish, did they?'' he whispered, knitting his brow as he tried to understand. ''The last pieces of my soul.''
Harry turned over and looked at him with a smile. ''No, they returned to you. I'm sorry that you can never be fully complete again as some of them were destroyed. It was the best I could do.''
''You knew this would happen.''
Harry sighed. ''I didn't think you'd want to hear it. I'm surprised that, with how much you researched Horcruxes and soul magic, you never came across the cure for it.''
''I found it irrelevant, as I did not wish to reverse the process. The cure was self-sacrifice then? You made one of my Horcruxes commit suicide to save you?''
Harry gave a surprised laugh that should have grated his nerves yet didn't. ''No. That was only a symptom of something bigger that was going on. The cure for Horcruxes, the only way to merge them with you again is feeling deep, intense remorse for what you did. When you so strongly regretted killing me, everything started, for I was directly tied to you through that piece of soul, and with that tied to all the others.''
''And now I am mortal,'' he regretfully said. ''All of that work, reduced to nothing. I am left with less soul than I was born with.'' Harry said nothing to that, and Voldemort mulled over his own thoughts. The idea did not fill him anymore with such fear as it used to. Splitting his soul had still not prevented him from dying once and spending those hellish years as a spirit, and it had only served to kill him faster in the end as so many people seemed hell-bent on trying to destroy them. One piece had even killed itself… Had it been so wrong, not wanting to die? If so, what other ideas that he'd had were wrong?
''Harry…'' he started, reaching out for the other. His fingers caught a strand of unruly, black hair. It stood in stark contrast against his skin, which was still as bony white as before. Horcruxes were destructive, and the havoc that the ones he'd made had wrecked on his body would forever remain as a sharp reminder of his failures. ''Now they are gone… will you help me still?''
Harry moved against him, and he gratefully accepted the familiar weight of Harry's forehead against his. He tensed up with shock when it didn't remain at that and lips were pressed to his own as well. Three seconds later, Voldemort melted into the kiss.
The turn of the millennium was as good a time as any, Harry had thought. Now, nervously standing here in front of the closed door of a small apartment, the feel of bravery faded. He clutched the letter in his hands and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. He winced as a lot of noise and shouting could be heard from beyond the door. It was slammed open, and he was met with two wands in his face.
''Whoa, whoa!,'' he exclaimed, hastily stepping back. ''Try not to poke my eyes out please! It would be very ironic if I survived the war unscathed, only to be blinded by you guys.'' He looked up, waiting for at least some sort of reaction from either Ron or Hermione other than the stupefied looks on their faces. ''Err, I thought you knew I was coming?'' he asked uncertainly, holding up the letter.
''Mate, we've thought you dead for three years. We…'' Ron threw Hermione a desperate look. ''We didn't know if this wasn't some sick joke or a trap. There are still a few Death Eaters who managed to escape and whom we only hear rumours about.''
''Very true, we couldn't be too careful,'' Hermione nodded, still looking wary. ''Especially with my job, I've made quite some enemies recently since moving to the Department of Magical law enforcement.''
Now it was Harry's turn to be gobsmacked. ''You work at the Ministry? I thought you told Scrimgeour to shove it when he suggested you'd work in Magical Law. Well, in politer words.''
No sooner had he finished the sentence, did he have a pair of arms around him and a bunch of hair pressed against his face. ''It is you. Oh Harry! Where have you been? Why didn't you ever contact us? There were such wild stories about your last battle with Voldemort, about how the both of you vanished… We always kept hoping, of course…''
''I think we'd all like to know that,'' another familiar voice spoke, and he looked past Hermione's shoulders to Lupin. Now that had a better view of the corridor they stood in, he saw that much of it was taken up by Order members: Lupin, Tonks, even Shacklebolt was there. It was a massive weight off his back to see them all unharmed and well.
''You sure were careful,'' he said, although he couldn't stop smiling. All those years, he'd mostly been plagued by the thought of that his friends were still in danger from Voldemort's rampant followers, even if the Dark Lord himself was out of the picture. ''It's a long story. And while I appreciate seeing all of you, I would really rather first discuss it in private with Hermione and Ron. The only thing I can tell all of you is that I've been in hiding and completely cut off from the Wizarding world. I literally haven't heard any news or messages until I received this letter.'' He held up the piece of parchment again on which Hermione had written her short invitation in answer to the letter he'd sent her.
Despite protests - especially from Molly, who insisted on first making Harry a bite to eat - the others were quickly shuffled either through the floo or out of the door, until he was alone with his friends. ''I'm sorry,'' was the first thing he said once they were seated. He stared into the cup of tea that had been pressed into his hands. He hadn't drunk any for a long time. Voldemort was more of a coffee-person and Harry just drank whatever was in the house. ''I wish I could have contacted you sooner.''
''Were you in danger?'' Ron asked, who sat opposite him.
''Not quite, but I made a promise and stuck to it, to not put others in danger.'' He looked up at his friend, then his eye fell on a picture frame behind the redhead. It was moving and showed his friends in fancy robes, being showered with petals. ''You're married?'' he exclaimed, snatching Ron's hand and staring at the ring. ''You're married? To each other? When did that happen?''
Ron's ears became pink instantly and he looked a bit sheepishly. ''Err, well things were pretty hectic after you were gone. We went on another country trip, just the two of us, trying to find the remaining Horcruxes. Weren't successful,'' he admitted, looking rather down.
''I know, it's fine,'' Harry said, waving it away.
''Oh. Okay. So, we came across this band of rogue Death Eaters who were still trying to hold control of several villages. Right, I suppose you don't know anything about what happened?'' When Harry shook his head, he continued. ''Long story short, the same happened as the first time that You-Know-Who disappeared. His followers couldn't keep the rest of us oppressed for long, Hogwarts was reclaimed the day that you disappeared and the Ministry followed soon after. There were occasional attacks, but the Aurors caught them one by one. Fewer are free than last time, Shacklebolt is Minister now and he knew from the Order who the real Death Eaters were. Those who bought their way out of Azkaban last time are behind bars now.''
''As Ron was trying to say before he went off-topic,'' Hermione spoke up, ''during one of the attacks, Ron and I came very close to losing each other and we realised our feelings pretty much at the same time. We confessed in the middle of a battle, and haven't regretted it since. We married last autumn, only a couple of months ago. We'd planned on marrying earlier, but didn't really want to tie the knot without you there… Then after no-one had heard a word from you for so long, we figured it was time to move on.''
''Reminds me that we'll have to dig up your grave now,'' Ron joked.
''Memorial!'' Hermione scolded him. ''A grave would only have been placed after seven years of disappearance.''
Harry sat back and grinned as they bickered like usual, sipping his tea until they calmed down and shifted their attention to him again.
''So what about you? Why all the mystery?''
''Do you remember all the times where Voldemort had the opportunity to kill me, then didn't? It's tied to that a bit, as well as that strange greeting we always had, the one that turned out to be a hoax.''
He told them, as detailed as possible, about that final 'battle' and his conversation with Dumbledore -although he left out the bit about love-. When he finished and came to the part where they'd apparated away, his friends looked like statues. Still, he kept talking. ''We moved a couple of times at first. Then, we settled in his old house for months, the one in Little Hangleton. He tried to keep his Horcruxes from dying, while I distracted him and tried to speed up the process by staying near him. At long last, when they were all absorbed, he was much saner than before, and not beyond help still. There were too many memories in Britain though, and I couldn't trust him not to start another war. After all, even before he split his soul, Voldemort did awful things. So, we moved to Belgium, in the middle of a large Muggle city where he could observe them in a non-hostile environment. I figured that most of his hatred for Muggles stemmed from fear due to mistreatment and rejection. I've been working to cure his phobia.''
''You… you've been… getting You-Know-Who therapy?'' Ron choked.
''It's not a bad idea,'' Hermione mused. ''Recent studies show that rehabilitation is far more effective than punishment for criminals. I can't imagine that you'll find much support for it in the Wizarding World however. Punishment here has always been extremely harsh, and he murdered hundreds of innocents while plotting the genocide of non-magical folk.''
''I thought it would be the best solution,'' Harry shrugged. ''Thing is, even though he is mortal now, we don't know how long he'll live. Some wizards became hundreds of years old and he is still extremely powerful. Even if we'd imprison him, it's not unlikely that he'd break out at some point. And I firmly believe that killing would be only a last resort in self-defence. Now that I knew that he could change, I wanted to try. Also, try to catch him! One wrong move on my part and he would have returned to the old ways. He wasn't exactly my prisoner, it all depended on how strong his belief and trust in me was. He's been surprisingly cooperative actually, only threatened to leave a few times. Although he still refuses to use the mobile phone that I gave him,'' Harry grinned. It died down a bit when he received two looks that made him wonder if he'd grown a second head.
''The reason I couldn't contact you is mostly because I didn't want him to get any outside influence from his followers. So, we made a deal: he would only stay in the Muggle world if I did too. No newspapers, no letters, nothing that could tie us to the magical world. It was only a bit of a shame as it even prevented me from going to Gringotts. Without a degree or valid identification, I've had to work many different menial jobs to pay the bills. Thankfully, I didn't have the trace on me anymore by then and could go around unnoticed.''
''Why did you come back now then? Hermione asked, clearly worried. ''Did something happen? Is he returning after all?''
Harry shook his head. ''We talked a few times about when to return to the Wizarding World. I always knew that I couldn't keep him away forever, and neither did I want to pretend to be a Muggle for much longer. A lot changed in the past years, really. He isn't homicidal anymore for one. I… I think it's time. Of course, no-one will ever know that he's back,'' he hastily added when seeing their horrified expressions. ''We've worked on creating a new identity. He picks up whatever he reads with insane speed, and he's had little else to do than reading. There were, per our agreement, no books on magic available, so he usually picked the next best topic that interested him, which was biology and medicine.''
Ron seemed confused still, but Hermione's eyes widened, and she choked out: ''You can't say that he'll pretend to be a Healer!''
''He won't have to pretend. He was already good in most aspects of magic, including healing. With over two years of meticulously studying the topic from the Muggle side of things, I daresay that you'll find few better Healers in this world than Voldemort.''
''This is insane,'' Ron muttered, shaking his head, although he looked slightly awed. ''Only you Harry. Only you would be able to convert a murderer and get him into healing of all things.''
''The only problem is,'' Harry spoke, shuffling a bit in his seat, ''He hasn't really interacted with anyone but me, and a few Muggle friends of mine while he was disguised. I have no idea how he will react to being among magical people again. I don't want to cause relapses by suddenly dragging him in a room filled with mages. So… I need a favour.''
His friends exchanged a glance of despair.
Less than an hour after they had agreed to cancel the previous arrangement, Harry had contacted his friends. Of course. Voldemort did nothing, only sitting by the fireplace with Nagini on his lap, waiting for the other to leave. For Harry would leave as soon as he received word back, that much was obvious.
He himself felt much less like returning to the Wizarding world than he'd thought, afraid of what he might find and what his opinion on it would be. He'd prefer to find out the fate of his country in a safe environment instead of apparating to the houses of his followers in hope of being greeted back. In all the talks with Harry recently, both of them had silently embraced the scenario of that his work had been undone much like last time he'd vanished. Strangely, he probably could live with that better than if his followers hadn't crumbled in his absence. He had plans now, so many plans after he somewhat got used to living in the Muggle world, talking to Muggles at times even. So many paths opened up if he wouldn't be Lord Voldemort anymore…
But he also could not deny that in the unlikely case that he returned and found everything as he left it, with his Death Eaters having control over the Ministry, he wouldn't give up the past years in a heartbeat again. Harry wanted to deny it, pretend that bringing his soul back together somehow made him a good person, yet Voldemort knew that this couldn't be the case. He'd been out for blood before he'd made his first Horcrux. If the opportunity presented itself, he'd rule again.
It was a precarious situation. So he sat there, waiting, until many hours later he heard a joyful cry from Harry as one of his friends apparently sent back a positive reply. Voldemort felt only marginally less cold inside as Harry came over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before swinging on a travel cloak and heading outside. Then, he slowly came to life.
It didn't take much to gather what he wanted: he'd perfected using a spell to disguise himself during the time in the Muggle World, as they could not gather ingredients for a Polyjuice potion with the
no contact rule in place. After donning the persona he usually used now, it was as easy as a single apparition to get back to magical Britain. International apparition had never posed much of a hurdle to him. Rather than speaking to anyone, he merely held his head low as he crossed Diagon Alley to enter Flourish and Blotts, buying all of the recent editions of the Daily Prophet and a few other magazines they had in stock. He paid for them with a few dusty sickles he'd still had on him all those years and never had had the opportunity to spend. As soon as he could, he vanished again and returned to the familiarity of their apartment.
Some of Harry's friends and colleagues had mentioned how strange their decoration was, but Voldemort had refused to tone it down. Even if they had to live in the Muggle world, nothing would keep him from tying bushes of dried herbs to the ceiling and creating at least some magical significance with candles, stones and rune spells on the walls. Let them think they were into some crazy occult things, he didn't care. He breathed in the spicy scents of home and sat down at the dining table, spreading open the first newspaper, eyes hushing over the headings of the front page.
House prices in Hogsmeade finally on the rise again!
Possible Death Eater sighting close to Hogwarts
Is interim Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt holding his position too long?
Former Host of Potterwatch dies in tragic motorcycle accident
Those four articles, and especially the fact that the main article was about house prices with death eaters and order member having three small columns on the bottom of the page, said more than any living person could have explained to him about the current situation. Voldemort took a deep breath and tried to calm his thoughts while squashing the last piece of lingering hope that he could ever be heralded as a saviour again by his followers. It hadn't lasted, once again. The Wizarding world remained blind to the threat of Muggles, and tried everything to solve matters peacefully.
Fine. He was done trying to sacrifice his entire life towards a goal no-one could appreciate. Even Harry still didn't see his reasoning, and Voldemort himself had started to doubt several of his own views as well. The most radical change being that he acknowledged grudgingly now that not all muggles would reject or mistreat mages. They were very much individuals too, with flaws and strengths. People, albeit dangerous people in large groups.
''Let it happen then,'' he whispered vengefully, staring down hard on the picture of a smiling Shacklebolt. ''I know I am not responsible for what happens to the lot of you anymore.''
He could hear the cracks of apparition in the garden outside, and looked up as Harry walked through the back door. What he hadn't expected, was to see two of Harry's friends in tow. He was instantly on his feet, a tight grip on the handle of his wand, which he had half-raised in a threatening gesture. Both of them looked frightened half to death already in that instant, which still didn't serve to calm him down.
''You are not welcome here,'' he barked at them.
''I invited them,'' Harry calmly spoke, stepping forward. ''They're not here to attack you, they came on my request.''
Voldemort felt a sting of betrayal. ''Had I brought one of my Death Eaters in here…'' he hissed.
''Then I would have reacted in much the same way as you do right now, I realise that. Which is why I'm not angry, or even surprised. Come on, I'll make you a cup of coffee.'' Harry's eyes wandered to the table behind him and rested on the newspapers. ''I'll make it a strong one,'' the man muttered, concern in his bright green eyes. ''Hermione, Ron, please sit down.''
Still annoyed at Harry for not even informing him before, Voldemort fought the urge to follow his partner and instead sat down with Harry's friends, slightly curious about the whole situation. It was clear that both of them wished to be anywhere else right now and had only come as a favour to Harry.
''He really does have a way of convincing others to do things they don't want, doesn't he?'' he spoke airily. The woman let out a slightly shaky giggle.
''That's Harry alright. You too huh?''
''Obviously.''
They sat in rather awkward silence until Harry came back, who chatted rather loudly as he gave each of them coffee as if nothing at all was wrong in the world. Voldemort clamped his hands over the warm cup just to avoid the urge to grab his wand again and fidget with it. ''So, Ron and Hermione got married! Didn't want to wait until I showed my face again apparently. Hey Ron, did your mum make as much of a fuss over it as with Bill's wedding?''
''A bit less now we didn't have to worry about Death Eater attacks,'' Weasley muttered, shooting him a glare over the edge of his cup.
''It was lovely!'' Granger continued, giving her husband a nudge, although her own voice also shot up high with nerves. ''A bit quieter than Bill's, I managed to offend Aunt Muriel so much a week prior that the old hag didn't attend, to everyone's relief. And Ginny made a beautiful bridesmaid again…'' she then trailed off and gave Harry a guilty look that Voldemort narrowed his eyes at.
''Ginevra Weasley?'' he spoke in an ice-cold tone that would have done a Dementor proud. ''I've heard… so many lovely things about her from Harry.''
''Well, she is a lovely person,'' Harry stubbornly said, which did not improve his mood. He swallowed a snappy comment, which the other clearly picked up, for he sighed and came over, balancing a bit uncomfortably on the armrest of the armchair Voldemort sat in. ''Look, I know this may not be the greatest idea I ever had, but I wanted you to at least speak to some people before you… I don't know, get confronted with hundreds of wizards and witches who won't even know who you are. In front of them, you at least don't have to hide.''
''I only have to hide in the first place because you wouldn't leave me alone and made me abandon everything,'' he bit, although he did feel a bit better now Harry was sitting on his side instead of with Granger and Weasley. He grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it. ''Not your finest idea indeed. I would have appreciated speaking to you alone about my… discoveries, before talking to anyone.''
''We could leave…'' Weasley hopefully suggested, but he stayed put as his wife pinned him down with a stern look.
''I… I understand that this may be difficult,'' she started. ''As we were on opposite sides, but if you can accept Harry, I hope you will not find it too problematic to do the same with us.'' The tone she spoke in made it sound as if she were talking to a wounded animal that was about to lash out. ''You clearly mean a lot to Harry, else he would not have left us.'' Her gaze rested on their intertwined hands. ''He told us that you are thinking of a career in healing?''
He relaxed a bit, finding ease in the topic of the area he'd studied here. ''I debated about options of what to do after, and I figured that this is one of the few careers where I am legally allowed to cut people open,'' he said in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit further. The stomp he received to his shoulder and a hastily explained 'He's joking, totally joking' from Harry was a clear warning that Granger and Weasley were incapable of understanding cynical humour. Why did Harry put up with these people?
Since they were all still sitting together though, he decided to be the better man and reach out once more, seriously approaching conversation this time and speaking of the various books he'd read and the Muggle doctors he had spoken to. Harry had worked as a cleaner in a hospital for a while until they found out his id was faked and Voldemort had picked him up from work a couple of times just to get a breath of fresh air and take a look inside the hospital. It was still easy to charm people into telling him whatever he wanted them to when they didn't know who he was, and he'd even received a demonstration of an x-ray machine. As he spoke, Granger lost her fake polite tone and actually got excited herself, speaking of the times she'd helped her parents, who were dentists. It was one of the least interesting fields when it came to magical medicine, as teeth were fixed with quick spells, but Voldemort had also read sections about it and it was astonishing how much there was to the Muggle side of orthodontal medicine.
''Your parents…'' he spoke suddenly, quietly. ''They are both Muggles yes?''
Granger instantly became wary, and defensively said: ''What of it?''
''How did they treat you after they found out you were a witch?'' It was still the one sore point, the one thing in his original agenda that even Harry at times had to agree to considering his own upbringing at the Dursleys. Every Pureblood knew that muggles had no business raising magical children, and that belief had been proven right over and over by many examples. Muggle parents were a large reason for some people joining his cause, such as Severus Snape, who had been terrorised by his Muggle father the moment Tobias Snape knew he'd married a witch.
''They… they tried to be openminded,'' Granger carefully spoke, frowning. ''I won't lie and say everything was perfect, or that all Muggles understand their magical children as well as magical parents do. However, I firmly believe that it is not only their fault. They are cut off from most of the world I live in, they are not allowed to visit places like Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic, they can't be involved as much in my life as they should to support me, especially during my Hogwarts years. With the restrictions given, they did their best, and still do. It sometimes frightens them, what I can all do, but I think they are more afraid of accidentally using my abilities for themselves. I once offered to help them in the clinic with a little bit of magic and they strongly refused as they didn't want to exploit my powers, not because they didn't trust me to be able to help. Overall, my parents have been very accepting, doing what they could to understand me. They definitely support my career and tried to befriend my parents-in-law.''
''Which wasn't hard as my dad adores anything Muggle,'' Weasley spoke up, smiling at his wife. The ginger then looked at Voldemort. ''I know through Harry that you… you haven't had the best experienced with Muggles. But Hermione's parents, and many others, are really great. Not every one of them would reject magic or greedily try to get it for themselves.''
''I know that now,'' Voldemort muttered. He'd gone to dinners with Harry's Muggle friends, they'd been at the house and once he'd even joined a pub evening. Still, it always felt off, disconnected. He felt like they were playing pretend too much and that all of those nice, laughing people could turn cold and murderous when knowing of their abilities. ''I still wish to have as little to do with muggles as I can in the future,'' he admitted. ''Though I won't try to blame them anymore for all the world's shortcomings. If one day it turns out that I was right all along and Muggles wipe us all out, I can worry about it then. For now, I'll let it rest and hope I was wrong.''
Their guests left about an hour after, although only once Harry has assured them he wouldn't disappear off the face of the earth again and to visit soon. Only Weasley flinched a bit when shaking his hand at the departure. Voldemort wouldn't admit out loud to Harry just yet that he was looking forward to speaking to them again. Instead, they lay in bed for a good while and enjoyed each other's company.
''Did you tell them that we are together?'' he asked suddenly, stroking Harry's cheek with a single finger.
''Hmm… I thought it better that they meet you first before I tell them. I didn't want them to think you'd bewitched me or something, or that I was letting my feelings get the better of me.''
''Aren't you?'' he asked, hovering over his partner and pressing a kiss to his neck. ''Are you not letting your heart rule your head when it comes to me? You didn't try to save any of my followers, only me. I am responsible for far more crimes than most of those were that are imprisoned now.''
Harry embraced him and gave a tight hug. ''As soon as you hear of a prophecy predicting that I have to vanquish Gregory Goyle, let me know.'' Voldemort gave a short laugh and pulled away. ''Besides, I only found out they got together after they were married! Maybe I shan't tell them anything about us until they figure it out themselves either out of spite!''
''What, until we're married?'' he said, loving how even through his partner's beard stubble, he could see reddening skin.
''If that is a proposal, it is a bad one.''
''I've never been very good.''
''Agreed, you're the worst. I still accept.''
''You agree with me? Miracles will never cease.''
''Shut up and kiss me again.''