The Semblance of Peace, part 3
"This was the final straw. We are not seeing any more Muggle movies."
"I thought it was hilarious." Harry snickered. "The part with the bloke who lost his come and then she put it in her hair!" His shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh. It wouldn't do for Muggles to see him like this, laughing to himself.
"Please, Harry, how old are you? Three?"
"I'm seventeen. But it was still funny."
"You're eighteen. And no, it was decidedly not funny. It was banal and boring."
"Right. I keep forgetting I had a birthday. And it wasn't boring. I heard you laugh at that part with the guy fighting that little dog."
"Even the title is ridiculous. There is something about Mary? Honestly. They should have named it: There is something about the way Muggles lack a complete sense of humor and deserve to die violent deaths."
"You're just a grumpy old wanker - ow! Stop that." Harry rubbed his forehead, and decided not to argue the point with Voldemort anymore.
As Harry sat on the tube, he definitely didn't think about that morning. How Voldemort had touched his cock. Or about what the Prophet had written about him. Nor did he think about his dream and how kissing Tom Riddle had felt -- not bad at all, but Harry certainly didn't think about that.
No, Harry thought about the movie, which really had been funny and had put Harry in better spirits. And the French restaurant Voldemort had picked had been nice enough. Far more expensive than McDonalds, but then the food had been much better, too.
God, Ginny was going to hate him for suddenly being gay. Perhaps, when all this was over, Harry could tell her his newfound sexuality had been nothing more than a case of temporary insanity, and she'd take him back.
"Are you still going on about this girl?" Voldemort said the last word as if it tasted dirty. "It's best if you get over her. She's just another little trollop."
"She is not a trollop," Harry muttered as he got off the train.
"Let's make a bet, shall we? I bet that your little trollop will be attached to another boy the day we return to Hogwarts."
"She would never -- " Harry snapped his mouth shut as he recalled Ginny with Dean Thomas, and before that, Michael Corner. She wouldn't find a new bloke so quickly, would she? "No, she wouldn't," Harry said, more to convince himself than Voldemort. "What do you want to bet for?"
"Honor. And that you'll stop whining about her when it turns out I am right."
"If," Harry said. "Fine. But if I'm right, you'll stop whining about me whining about her."
"It's a bet."
As Harry turned the corner to Grimmauld Place, he noticed a shadowy figure standing under a tree near number twelve. Too tall to be any of his friends, and too broad to be Snape. Harry reached for his wand, but halted his hand at the last moment as the figure stepped into the light.
"Evening, Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said.
"Hi." Harry came to a halt near Kingsley and gave him a questioning look.
"Impressive spellwork," Kingsley said, gesturing at the front door. "I don't recall it being there the last time I was here."
Well, at least it seemed their spells were holding, if an Auror hadn't been able to break them. "Yeah, I like the extra protection."
"Extra protection? Harry, you've closed your house up tighter than a Gringott's vault."
Harry shrugged. "So why are you here?"
"Let's discuss this inside, unless you want another headline in the paper."
That thought alone sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "Sure." He let first Kingsley and then himself inside, and waved towards the drawing room. He joined Kingsley there and sat down on the couch. Kingsley remained standing.
"It was the clerk. After you left the post office, a reporter went in and offered him 100 Galleons if he told them what you had talked about with me."
Harry shook his head. "That bastard."
"Well," Kingsley said, grinning. "I wrote him a 500 Galleon fine for animal cruelty. There was one owl that might have had mites. He'll think twice the next time."
"Thanks." Harry felt some relief, even though the whole idea of the article still bugged him to no end.
Kingsley glanced around the room. "So where did you learn these spells?"
"Get him out of here, Harry. You do not want him nosing into our spellwork."
"Books," Harry said. "I've been practicing them the last couple of days."
"Really, just books?" Kingsley tilted his head as he stared at Harry. "That's quite admirable. I doubt even Albus Dumbledore could have cast spells as intricate as this."
"Harry, do something now." Voldemort sounded threatening, and it made Harry flinch.
I don't know what to do, he thought, cold desperation settling in his stomach.
"Very well. But don't blame me for this later." And Voldemort took control over Harry's body, and Harry was left as a bystander while Voldemort got up from the couch and moved to stand closer to Kingsley.
"Sirius' family left behind a lot of interesting books," Voldemort said. "I've been casting from those."
"But why all the protection? The house is still under the Fidelius."
Voldemort sighed. "Because Snape is a Death Eater. I don't care what the Wizengamot said and did. And he knows the location of my house. I just feel safer like this."
God, but Voldemort was good. Kingsley's expression softened at once.
"You don't need to worry about Snape, Harry. He was on our side all along."
"And he tormented me in class for six years, so excuse me for not wanting him dropping by unexpectedly." Voldemort crossed his arms in a very Harry-like gesture.
"It's all right. I get it. But keep casting like this, and you won't have any problems joining my department next year." Kingsley put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. Voldemort looked up at him, licking his lips.
"I was wondering about something, actually, but I'm not sure if - it's difficult." How did Voldemort manage to sound like a bumbling teenager so convincingly? "Perhaps I should just show you." And Voldemort placed both hands on Kingsley's cheeks and kissed him on the mouth.
Kingsley gasped, and pulled back at once. "Harry, no. Sorry, but I'm not like that."
"I'm sorry," Voldemort said, staring at his shoes.
"Don't be. Just...we're friends, right. That's all."
"All right." Voldemort chewed on his lip.
"I'll see you later, Harry." And Kingsley was out the door within seconds.
Harry was still in a slight state of shock and hardly noticed Voldemort handing over the reins of his body to him. "What the hell did you do that for?" Harry asked, the moment he found his voice.
"Now he won't bother us again, because he feels too ashamed. Really, men like that Auror are easiest deflected when you hit them directly in their heterosexual pride."
"You just kissed an Auror. You're unbelievable."
"Technically, you just kissed an Auror, Harry."
Groaning, Harry buried his face in his hands.
*--*--*
The next few days passed without incident. Or rather, without further incident. Harry dragged Voldemort along to a few more museums, restaurants and movies, and much to Harry's relief, no one was waiting for him when he got home. Voldemort kept his paws off Harry's cock. Harry kept thinking back to it anyway, no matter how hard he tried not to.
Harry received an owl from Hermione, asking how he was doing. He sent it back to her with a bag of Galleons and a request to buy his school things, since he refused to set foot in Diagon Alley. They received an owl from Snape, telling them he'd acquired the necessary ingredients. Voldemort sent it back to him with instructions on how to handle the finances.
They argued. They talked. Voldemort told him about magical history. It was a strange kind of peace, if peace was even the right word.
At the very least, the number of death threats from both sides were now substantially reduced, which counted for something.
Harry didn't dream about Tom Riddle again, or if he did, he didn't remember it in the morning.
"I think I'll stay in bed today," Harry said, rubbing his cheek against his pillow. "Far too comfortable to get up."
"You are a lazy boy."
"And you sound like Snape." Harry grinned at the snort that earned him.
"Why this sudden lack of motivation to go out and explore the world?"
"Hogwarts starts in three days. I'm having a lie in while I still can." Harry rolled onto his stomach, wanted to stretch himself, but felt his hard cock poking the mattress. He shifted his hips, but that only made it worse. The slight friction made his balls ache.
"For pity's sake, Harry, take care of the problem."
"No, I'm not doing that with you again." Harry squeezed his eyes shut.
"We might share your body for months and months to come. Do you honestly expect to go without release the entire time?"
Harry buried his face deeper into his pillow. He liked wanking, he really did, and if he were honest, he couldn't imagine going without it for months. But doing it with Voldemort seemed so very wrong. Voldemort and pleasure didn't belong in the same sentence.
"It's just masturbation. It's not as if we're declaring our undying love in front of the entire world."
That made Harry snicker. "Just imagine the looks on everyone's faces. I can see the headlines already. Boy Who Loved His Attempted Murderer."
"It has a nice ring to it." Voldemort sounded amused. "He Who Must Not Be Loved Snares Chosen One."
Harry shook with laughter, and it only added friction to his groin. As his chuckles died down, his hips started moving on their own accord. "Don't," Harry groaned.
"I am not doing anything. It's all you."
And it was. Harry knew Voldemort wasn't controlling him this time, but it was easier to think he wasn't getting off with Voldemort. He thrust his hips harder and harder, not thinking about anything or anyone, only concentrating on the feeling of his cock, trapped between himself and the mattress, burning with the need for release.
Harry heard a soft moan, and he knew that wasn't him, since he was holding his breath. "Can you feel this?"
"Oh yes."
Now Harry groaned, and thrust once more, twice more, and spilled himself inside his pajama bottoms, his hands clutching at his pillow. It was just as intense as the last time, all this heat inside of him, burning him from the inside out. "God, is that you? Inside me? It's so hot."
Harry's skin tickled when Voldemort released a deep sigh. "I imagine so."
"Did you...er...you know, come?"
Harry's lips twitched, as if Voldemort was smiling. "Yes."
"Oh." Harry slowly opened his eyes. "It feels different. As if there's an extra orgasm in my head. Was it different for you?"
"As if I was being surrounded by your orgasm."
"Wow." Harry blinked. "It's not normally like that when you have sex with someone else, is it?"
Voldemort laughed. "No, it isn't. I think we're a special case."
"You can say that again." Harry burrowed deeper under the covers. "I'm going to sleep some more."
"You get another hour. Then we're getting up to do something productive."
"God, what are you now? My dad?" Harry squeezed his eyes shut the moment he realized what he'd said. He hadn't just said that. He really hadn't.
Voldemort chuckled. "I know for a fact I wasn't the one who conceived you."
"No, you only killed the man who did," Harry whispered. "Now let me sleep."
They remained quiet after that, and Harry drifted closer and closer to the enticing darkness of sleep.
The doorbell rang.
Harry pulled the covers over his head. "Now what?"
"You can consult our spells to see who is at your door, as I showed you."
"Right." Harry stuck his hand out from under the covers, groped around a bit, and found his wand on his nightstand. He swished it. "Who is at my door?"
"Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger," answered a soft voice, seemingly coming from nowhere.
"I better see what they want." Harry managed to sit up, and stifled a huge yawn. "It had better be important." He pushed himself out of bed, put his glasses on, and shuffled towards the hallway. Voldemort suddenly took control over his wand and flicked it.
"What are you -- " Harry fell quiet when a cleaning charm brushed over his groin. "Ah. Right. Thanks."
"Yes, we wouldn't want your dear friends to see the evidence of our little tryst."
Harry's cheeks flushed. "It was just wanking," he muttered, feeling the control seep back into his arm. When he reached the front door, he took hold of the doorknob and waited a few seconds so the spells could identify him. Then he turned it and opened the door.
"Mate, your floo's blocked," Ron said. He sounded worried. "We almost broke our necks."
"Yes, and when we tried to apparate in something threw us off and we landed ten miles away," Hermione added. "Someone has been messing with your house, Harry."
Harry opened the door further to let his friends in. "You're lucky you didn't get splinched."
Hermione stared at him. "You know about this?"
"Yep. Added the spells myself."
"You could have warned us," Ron said, affronted.
"I was getting a little tired of people treating my house as if it were still public headquarters and barging in at all times of the day." Harry shrugged. "I prefer people to use the doorbell."
Hermione blushed at that. "We didn't realize it was a problem for you."
"Now you know," Harry said. "Tea?" And without further comment, he turned and walked down to the kitchen. He tapped the kettle with his wand and levitated three cups to the table. "So, what's up?" he asked when Ron and Hermione had taken seats.
"You didn't hear yet?" Hermione was already digging in her pocket and pulled out the Prophet. "They're awarding you the Order of Merlin, first class!"
"Huh?" Harry stared at the newspaper as he poured out tea. "Whatever for?"
"Oh, come on," Ron said with a grin. "You bloody well know why."
"See how hypocritical the Ministry is? They're rewarding you for committing murder."
Harry frowned. "For Voldemort, then?"
"Of course." Hermione beamed at him. "It's a great honor. They don't hand these out to just anyone."
Harry sank down in a chair and rubbed his face. "I don't care. I don't want it."
"But, Harry," Hermione said, sounding aghast. "They're having a special ceremony the evening before we leave for Hogwarts."
"I said I don't care." Harry slammed his hand down on the table. "What has the Ministry ever done for me? All they ever did was let me do their dirty work. And now they want to give me some medal for casting an Unforgivable."
Ron stared at him. "I don't think that's why -- "
"Because that is what I did. I cast the Killing Curse, and how does that make me better than any of them?"
"It doesn't. It makes you one of us, my little Horcrux."
Harry gritted his teeth.
"Harry, try to be mature about this," Hermione said in a lecturing tone. "The war is over. Just go along with this for the sake of keeping the peace in the wizarding world."
"Peace?" Harry snorted. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Careful there, Harry. You don't want to let anything slip."
"What is the matter with you, Harry?" Now Hermione sounded worried. "You've been acting so strange ever since you woke up from your coma."
"Perhaps it's because I don't enjoy being a murderer."
"But the prophecy -- "
Harry cut Ron off. "Fuck the prophecy. Just because some mad old bat predicted something two decades ago, everyone expected me to split my own soul and become a murderer. I've had enough of this. All I want now is to be left alone and live a normal life."
"Calm down, Pinocchio."
Hermione sighed. "But Dumbledore knew you could -- "
"Don't start about Dumbledore. He arranged for Snape to kill him right in front of me and didn't explain anything. Do you have any idea how I've felt this last year? How much I've hated this last year? Dumbledore was always going on about how love would help me. Well, it didn't. It was sheer hatred that drove me, and now people want to give me a fucking medal for it."
"If you don't play along with this, the Ministry can make your life very difficult, Harry." Hermione gave him a stern look. "They could even keep you out of their Auror program."
Harry blinked. He hadn't realized that.
"The girl has a point. The last thing we want right now is for the Ministry to start openly persecuting you."
"Well, crap," Harry said.
"Yeah," Ron said. "And we're going to be Aurors next year, right? I mean, you still want that, don't you?"
Harry nodded. He'd never considered any other career than that.
"Go and pick up this medal, and then we'll be free of the Ministry for the entire year."
"I think you're right, Hermione," Harry said. "I suppose I could accept it. But I don't have to like it."
Hermione rolled her eyes and sipped her tea.
*--*--*
After having demanded at least three promises from Voldemort to behave himself, and after having listened to Ron and Hermione's inspiring pep-talk, Harry agreed to go to Diagon Alley with them. He needed new dress robes for the ceremony at the Ministry.
People pointed and called his name and demanded autographs, but Ron and Hermione flanked him as if they were his bodyguards. Something that amused Voldemort to no end. Well, at least he was having fun.
"Mr Potter!" Madam Malkin bowed when Harry entered her shop. "We're so honored to have you here. Dress robes, I assume?"
"Yeah. And some Hogwarts robes as well." Harry got up on the little dais so Madam Malkin could use her tape measure.
"This one is lovely," Hermione said, holding up moss-green robes. Harry wrinkled his nose. "Or this," she tried, offering a set of navy-blue ones.
"How about just black," Harry said.
"I couldn't agree with you more."
No one's asking you, Harry thought, and smiled when a tiny flutter made his scar tickle. You're losing your touch.
"No, I merely can't have you writhing on the floor in agony while we're in public. Wait until we're home, and I'll show you what I can do."
Harry felt a flutter in another part of his body now, and he realized it wasn't Voldemort doing it. But for some reason his penis took Voldemort's words quite differently than the rest of Harry did.
"Well, I suppose I could show you that, too. You certainly enjoyed it the first time."
Shut up. Harry smiled at Madam Malkin as she showed him a few black dress robes. "I like that one with the silver," Harry said, and Madam Malkin bustled away to adjust the robes to Harry's size.
He wasn't thinking about what he'd done earlier that day, or what Voldemort had done a few days ago, or that stupid dream that still plagued him.
"Why, Harry, are you blushing?"
"No," Harry said, even though his cheeks felt like they were on fire.
"Did you say something, Harry?" Hermione looked up from the rack of robes she was perusing. Ron was busy nosing through the Quidditch robes.
"I'd almost forgotten how pleasant having an innocent little virgin can be."
"I think we're done here," Harry said, and quickly walked to the counter to pay.
*--*--*
Two days later Harry lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was early still, but he'd woken up and couldn't sleep anymore.
"You're not very comfortable to be in when you're this tense."
"I really don't want to go to that ceremony."
"Yes, you have said that already. Several times."
"But Scrimgeour's going to be there and I can't stand him."
"No one can, Harry."
"And there will be press and lots of other people who only want to gawk at me." Harry rolled onto his side. "I'm tired of being treated like some rare animal on display." He groaned. "And everyone will think I'm queer."
"Get up. I want to show you something."
Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What?"
"Something that will help you relax. I want you to get up and stand in front of the large mirror on the inside of your wardrobe door."
Frowning, Harry sat up. "You're not going to do anything freaky, are you?"
"It's not going to hurt you. On the contrary. Get up, Harry."
Harry's curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped out of bed and did what Voldemort asked of him. He stared at his reflection. He looked tired. "Now what?"
"Close your eyes. Just for a second."
Harry rolled his eyes before he closed them.
"Open them."
Harry did, and immediately took a step back in alarm. There in the mirror, instead of his own reflection, stood Tom Riddle. Not as young as he'd been in Harry's dream, but more handsome than ever. He had to be in his twenties, and the most peculiar thing about him was that he was wearing an exact copy of Harry's striped pajamas.
"How - what -- "
"It's only magic. Just a little illusion."
Harry stared at Tom, and Tom stared back.
"Look at him. You think he's handsome, don't you? Would you like to see more of him?"
Only hearing the question was enough to make Harry's cock twitch.
"I'll take that as a yes." And Voldemort took control of Harry's hand. He brought it down and pushed at Harry's pajama bottoms. In the mirror, Tom did the same, revealing pale skin covered in short, dark hairs, and nestled between them a generous half-hard cock. Harry's own cock was half-hard, and he gasped when Voldemort closed his hand around it.
"This isn't -- "
"Just enjoy it, Harry."
His pajama bottoms fell to the floor, and Harry watched in stunned amazement how Tom's fingers closed around his cock and stroked it to hardness. Combined with the feeling of a hand working his own cock, the sight made Harry's knees buckle. He reached out and placed his free hand on the mirror's hard surface. Tom did the same, and if Harry tried hard enough he could imagine they were touching each other.
"Would you like that, Harry? His hands on you?"
Harry groaned and thrust his hips into his fist. Or was it Voldemort's fist? He wasn't sure anymore where he ended and Voldemort began. Tom did the same. His hazel eyes narrowed and his lips parted, and he gasped for breath in time with Harry.
Part of him knew he shouldn't enjoy this so much, but the rest of Harry was too busy staring at Tom's hard cock, how the foreskin moved across the slick head, spreading the tiny drops of pre-come. Harry had never considered the idea before, but at that moment he wished he could reach out and touch Tom's cock, stroke his fingers down the hard length, see what his testicles felt like cupped in the palm of his hand.
"I know he would like to touch you, too, Harry. Very much so."
The hand around his cock moved faster, and Harry's legs felt weak. He leaned towards the mirror, so close his ragged breaths fogged up the glass. Tom did the same, and suddenly their mouths were almost pressed together, and Harry thought he could feel those lips on his, like they'd been in his dream. They were soft and --
Harry swallowed back a harsh groan as his hips bucked and his release shot across the mirror. Tom came too, and he looked beautiful, the way his eyes narrowed and his lips tugged up in a smile. Heat consumed Harry, Voldemort scorching him from the inside, and he pressed his lips to the mirror as he rode out the bliss with slow thrusts of his hips.
Lowering his head, Harry closed his eyes. His cock gave a few twitches in Voldemort's hand, and then Harry got control back over it and released his spent prick.
"God," he sighed. He opened his eyes again, and felt a pang of disappointment when Tom was gone and he stared at his own reflection.
"You'll see him again. We can play this little game as often as you want."
Harry wasn't sure if he should want that as much as he did at that moment. "Enjoy wanking to your own reflection?" he asked, trying to rid himself of some of this awkward desire.
"No, I merely enjoy masturbating while I'm inside you. You're a very desirable young man."
Had Voldemort just complimented him? Harry didn't know what to make of that. "Right," he said, and straightened himself as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. "I think I'll just have a shower."
*--*--*
The Ministry's Atrium was packed. Rows and rows of chairs were placed in front of a small podium and all of them were occupied by chattering witches and wizards. There was even a small crowd standing in the back.
Harry tugged on the collar of his new robes. They felt too tight.
"Stop fidgeting," Hermione told him. Ron merely grinned at him.
"These robes are hot," Harry said. He didn't know where to look, because everywhere he saw people pointing or smiling at him.
"The robes are fine, Harry." Hermione patted his arm. "You look great. Just relax."
"Harry!" Scrimgeour approached him with brisk steps. "Our guest of honor."
God, someone please kill him, Harry thought.
"Perhaps later."
Harry covered his snort of laughter with a cough, and shook Scrimgeour's hand. "Good evening, Minister."
"Let's not keep all these people waiting." Scrimgeour ushered Harry towards the podium, and Hermione and Ron took seats in the front row beside Mr and Mrs Weasley, who waved at Harry.
To the side of the podium stood Percy Weasley, and a few other people Harry didn't know. "Good job, Harry," Percy said, as though they were the best of friends. Harry gave him a quick nod and stood beside Scrimgeour.
"Welcome, everyone. The Ministry is grateful so many of you are here to share this happy occasion with us. It's not often the Ministry gets to award an Order of Merlin to a genuine hero. Our very own Harry Potter did what no one --"
Harry tuned Scrimgeour's voice out and stared blankly at some point in the distance.
"Quite a crowd. Horrible speech, though. Scrimgeour's too obvious about winning votes for his reelection."
Ignoring Voldemort, Harry saw Mrs Weasley dab at her eyes with a handkerchief. He sighed.
"It will all be over soon. And tomorrow, we're returning to Hogwarts. No one will bother us there."
A few cameras flashed. People applauded. And Harry focused once again on Scrimgeour. Percy stood beside them (when had he climbed onto the podium?), holding a large, velvet cushion on which lay the biggest bloody medal Harry had ever seen. It was the size of a tea saucer.
"And thus we present you, Harry Potter, with the Order of Merlin, first class!" Scrimgeour picked up the medal and attached it to Harry's chest. It probably had a sticking charm on it. Harry hoped it wasn't as strong as the one of Mrs Black's portrait had been. God, it had been a bitch to remove that painting.
"Thanks," Harry whispered, and shook Scrimgeour's hand. More cameras flashed, and more applause echoed around the atrium.
"Now let's hear from our hero." Scrimgeour gestured for Harry to take center stage, and Harry stared at him, alarmed.
"He wants you to give a speech."
Huh? I can't give a speech. I haven't a clue what to say. Harry was tempted to flee. He hated speaking in public.
"Very well. Allow me." And Voldemort took control of Harry's body. He smiled at the crowd, and Harry thought this had to end in complete and utter disaster. Voldemort was not a good choice for giving an acceptance speech.
"Watch me and learn, my little Horcrux."
"Thank you so very much," Voldemort said. He even managed to sound sincere. "I am most pleased to be here tonight. I owe a lot to the Ministry of Magic. Had it not been for their policies, I never would have achieved what I did. Minister Scrimgeour's actions in particular have always aided me in reaching my goals."
Scrimgeour looked pleasantly surprised at that. Harry inwardly groaned.
"But it's not just the Ministry I have to thank this evening. Our whole community has always made things easy for me. Your beliefs and convictions were the reason for my actions. I couldn't have done this without you. Thank you." And he gave a little bow.
People jumped up, applauding and cheering, and Scrimgeour slapped Harry on his back. "Brilliant speech. If you want to join us next year, Harry, we'll gladly have you."
"Why thank you, Minister. And every single word of it was true."
Harry, who'd regained control over his body, offered Scrimgeour a weak smile, and quickly left the podium.
"Oh, Harry. We're so proud of you." Mrs Weasley pulled him into a stifling hug, and after that Harry spent half an hour shaking hands from both friends and complete strangers. He longed to go back home where things were simple and the most exciting part of his day was bickering about Muggle movies with Voldemort.
His life really had taken a strange turn when he considered spending time alone with Voldemort more pleasant then being around other people.
Finally, the stream of people wanting to talk to him subsided, and Harry saw an opening through which he could escape. "I'll see you tomorrow," he told Ron and Hermione, and apparated straight to his kitchen.
He sank down on to a chair and ran a hand through his hair. "God, I can't believe you with that bloody speech."
Voldemort chuckled, and it made Harry's toes curl. "People will only hear what they want to hear. It's not very hard to use that against them."
"Right," Harry sighed. He wanted to go to bed, but he felt too wound up to sleep. His thoughts drifted back to that morning, to their little game in front of the mirror. That certainly had relaxed him.
"There is no shame in asking for it."
Harry frowned. Yeah, he wanted it, but it seemed so odd to want it. "You can't ever tell anyone about this."
"Who would I tell? We're in this together, Harry."
"All right." Harry shoved the chair back. "But this doesn't mean I'm suddenly queer, because I'm not."
"Of course you're not." Voldemort did something that made the skin of Harry's back tingle. "It's just a little wank between friends."
"Exactly."
*--*--*
Harry left early the next morning to avoid the crowds at the platform. He easily found an empty compartment on the train, and he sat down away from the window. That way, no one would gawk at him from the platform. Too late he realized it wouldn't stop other students from gawking through the compartment door. Younger students skittered by, often pointing and giggling. Older students stopped to say hello, and a significant number of the female ones seemed very disappointed in him.
Checking his watch for the hundredth time that morning, Harry leaned back in his seat and waited for his friends to arrive. He felt restless with nervous tension and heavy with guilt. He knew he shouldn't take Voldemort to Hogwarts with him. Until now, everything had taken place in a controlled environment. A few museums and his own home. But Hogwarts seemed different. Sacred, somehow. And the idea of leading Voldemort there made Harry more than uneasy. But what other choice did he have?
"Stop it with the dramatics. We have a deal. I plan to keep my end of our bargain. You keep yours and nothing will go wrong."
"You'd better."
"And once we get settled in, we need to take a little trip to see Severus."
"Why?"
"I want to check up on his progress."
Harry shifted in his seat. "I can't just leave Hogwarts whenever it pleases me."
"Of course you can. We'll go in the evening. We'll take that handy cloak of yours and apparate to Severus' house. We'll only be gone for an hour."
There was little to object to that, other than that it was Snape. But progress meant that Voldemort would be out of his head. Progress was good. "All right. But I need to see what my classes are like and how much homework I get."
"I'll help you with that. Don't worry about any of it."
Harry frowned. "You can't do all my homework, though. I can't suddenly be brilliant. But a little help would be good."
"We'll see. You can always say your mysterious coma made you a genius."
Shaking his head, Harry swallowed back a laugh.
The compartment door slid open, and Harry looked up to see Neville and Luna.
"Hi, Harry," Neville said, and seemed to falter for a moment. Harry waved them inside.
"Hello, Harry." Luna plopped down on the seat across from Harry, and Neville sat down beside her.
"Friends of yours?"
Yeah, so behave yourself. Harry gave Neville and Luna a tentative smile. "Hey."
"This is the other boy the prophecy referred to?"
Harry frowned. How do you know who he is?
"I'm merely checking a few of your memories. Well, I can see now that I made the right choice."
Harry plucked at the hem of his t-shirt. Both Luna and Neville stared at him. "What?" he asked, a bit annoyed.
"It's just hard to believe it's all over," Neville said.
Luna nodded. "That was a very interesting speech last night, Harry. Perhaps someone should check you for spells. Scrimgeour is notorious for confunding people he doesn't like."
Harry blinked. "I'm not confunded. I was just - I want to become an Auror next year and I need to be on the Ministry's good side. But how do you know about my speech?"
"We were there," Neville said. "You even shook our hands."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't really want to be there, and everything happened so fast, and -- "
"You looked very overwhelmed," Luna said.
Harry smiled at her. "Yeah, that's about how I felt."
"So how was your summer?" Neville asked, and then seemed to realize what he'd asked. "I mean, after...you know, you killed him."
"All right. Different." God, wasn't that the truth. "I've been doing a lot of very normal, boring stuff, just because I could."
Luna tilted her head. "Boring stuff? Really?"
"Yeah, I went to a lot of Muggle museums. I liked the National History museum the best. They have an awesome collection of dinosaurs," Harry said, his enthusiasm for the subject coloring his voice. "There is this huge Tyrannosaurus Rex, and it -- " He closed his mouth when he noticed the blank looks on Neville and Luna's faces. "You know, dinosaurs?"
"Yes," Luna said. "They're related to Croatian Koshflorps, and they're the biological link between kelpies and fire-crabs."
"What on earth is that girl -- "
Never mind, she's just being herself. Harry looked at Neville, hoping to see some understanding there.
"They're big lizards, right?" Neville tried, his cheeks flushing.
"Well, sort of. Actually, the lizards we know today have evolved from dinosaurs," Harry said, feeling rather puzzled.
"Oh." Neville stared down at his lap. "Gran never wanted me to learn any of that Muggle stuff when she home-schooled me."
"It's not just Muggle stuff," Harry said. "Dinosaurs are part of the planet's history. I'm no expert, but I bet dragons evolved from them, too."
Luna shook her head. "Dragons were made by a wizard named Alexander Fyrebloom, when he tried to domesticate sea serpents. But something went wrong with his spellwork, and before he knew it, he'd created dragons. Everyone knows that."
"For pity's sake, someone put that girl out of her misery."
Be quiet. She's just Luna. Mostly harmless, though often entertaining. Harry nodded at Luna. "Right," he said, trying to sound polite. He did not understand, though, why Neville and Luna lacked any knowledge about something as basic as dinosaurs. His teachers at primary school had told him enough about them during history and biology lessons.
"These are pureblood wizards, Harry. The only thing they care about is magic. Something as trivial as what creatures inhabited the planet millions of years ago is of no matter to them."
That's just so ignorant, Harry thought.
"To you, perhaps. To pureblood wizards it is of no concern."
"So, what did you two do with your summer?" Harry asked, desperate for a change of the subject.
And Luna told them about how she had helped her father with the Quibbler, and Neville shared how he'd made a greenhouse in his gran's yard, and before Harry knew it, the train was well underway to Hogwarts, and he'd yet to see any glimpse of Ron or Hermione or Ginny. Well, he could understand Ginny not seeking him out.
"I'm going to use the loo," Harry said, and got up. "I'll be back in a bit."
He strolled down the train; the corridors were mostly empty now as everyone had found seats. He glanced inside every compartment, trying to spot his friends, but all he saw were students who gaped at him the moment they recognized him.
Until he passed a compartment and saw a flash of long, red hair that could only be Ginny's. Well, perhaps she knew where Ron and Hermione were. And he should apologize to her as well, though he wasn't sure anymore what for exactly. His entire life, perhaps?
He opened the compartment door and plastered a fake smile on his face. "Hi, Ginny. I was -- " His mouth fell shut when he noticed Blaise Zabini sitting beside Ginny. He was sitting awfully close, and when Harry glanced down he noticed Zabini's hand on Ginny's thigh.
"Yes, Harry?" Ginny said coolly, and scooted even closer to Zabini.
Something burned inside Harry, something that wanted to erupt as a Cruciatus Curse directed at that filthy Slytherin. He cleared his throat to steady himself, even though his hands balled into fists. "I was wondering if you've seen Ron or Hermione?"
"No, sorry." Ginny shrugged. "I've been with Blaise all morning." And she turned her head and placed a kiss on Zabini's mouth.
Harry went for his wand, but something - Voldemort, he realized - maneuvered him away from the door and back inside the corridor.
"Stop it at once! Cursing that boy inside a train full of people will only get us into trouble. Save your vengeance for a more appropriate time."
Harry was panting, struggling against the hold Voldemort had on him. "Let me go," he breathed, but Voldemort kept control over him and backed him away even further.
"I warned you, Harry. I told you that girl would jump the first boy she could get. It is time you let her go."
Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry inhaled breath after breath, but it did nothing to keep his mind from swaying. "I can't believe she just - but with Zabini?"
"There isn't a creature as vindictive as a woman scorned, Harry. Remember that. You are better off without her."
Harry snorted. "Since when do you know anything about women? You don't even like them."
"Women have their uses, which is why I made it my business to understand them. It has nothing to do with my personal preferences."
Sagging against a window, Harry tried to gather his thoughts. "So I suppose you won our bet."
"Yes. Which means you are going to stop mooning over this girl."
"It's your fault I'm mooning over - God, that's such a ridiculous word." Harry shook his head. "I'm going to find Ron and Hermione."
Harry found them in the prefects' compartment, which was empty save for them. Harry stared at them through the window. Ron and Hermione were snogging as if their lives depended on it. Harry noticed the Prefect's badge on Ron's chest, and the shining Head Girl's badge on Hermione's.
"They certainly seem...busy."
Sighing, Harry turned to make his way back to his own compartment, but he only managed three steps before he heard the door behind him slide open.
"Harry, sorry, we didn't see you," Hermione said. Harry turned to glare at her. "Is something wrong?"
"Yeah, mate, you know we had to meet with all the other prefects," Ron said, joining Hermione in the doorway.
Right. He would have known that if his friends had told them about their positions this year. Well, it didn't matter now. "No, not really," he said, studying his fingernails. "Just that I saw your sister snogging Blaise Zabini a minute ago in a compartment up the train."
Ron's cheeks flushed maroon and he stormed past Hermione and Harry, wand out. "I'll teach that Slytherin bastard to keep his hands off my sister!"
Hermione dashed after him. "Ron, no!"
And Harry leaned against the compartment window, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. "Now we won't get into any trouble."
"That's my little Horcrux."
At the sound of shouting and hexes being fired a moment later, Harry tipped an imaginary hat at Voldemort, and strolled back to his own compartment.
*--*--*
"But with Zabini? A Slytherin?" Ron said for the twenty-second time that afternoon. Harry had been keeping count.
"Ron, leave it already," Hermione said. "Zabini wasn't involved in the war. If Ginny wants to hang out with him, she can."
Harry followed his friends into the Great Hall, but stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted the Head Table. There, in his usual seat at the very end, sat Snape.
"Oh, look, it's Fleur," Ron said brightly. "I bet she's our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Strange Bill didn't mention that."
Harry hadn't noticed Fleur at all. His gaze was fixed on Snape, who turned his head and stared at him with unreadable black eyes.
"Well, this certainly is interesting. I wonder what our Severus will have to say for himself."
"Ron." Hermione tugged on Ron's sleeve. "Look, it's Snape."
Ron's eyes widened. "What the hell is that bastard doing here?"
"Let's just go sit down. I'm sure McGonagall will give an explanation." Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve as well, and he followed her to the Gryffindor table, though his eyes never left Snape.
Well, fuck, he thought. Is he going to - is this going to - how are we --
"Calm down. He cannot betray us. The vow will make sure of that. We'll question him after the feast."
Harry finally looked away from Snape as he sat down at the end of the table, Hermione beside him and Ron across from him. Ginny sailed by but ignored them, and took a seat with the other sixth-years.
Turning in his seat, Harry glanced around the hall. One end of the Slytherin table looked very empty. Only Nott and Zabini were left from their year. Crabbe and Bullstrode were dead, Parkinson had fled the country with her family a year ago, Goyle was serving a life sentence in Azkaban for use of the Cruciatus Curse, and Malfoy had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban for allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Apparently Snape had kept him out of the war, but he'd been unable to keep him out of the hands of the Wizengamot.
A few fifth and sixth year Slytherins were missing, too, but all the younger students were there. The other House tables seemed mostly complete from what Harry could tell.
Another major difference this year was of course Dumbledore's absence. McGonagall sat in his - or was it hers now? -- chair at the center of the Head Table. Fleur was chatting with Sinistra and Sprout. Hagrid waved at him and Harry smiled in return. And Snape kept shooting him glances, though his composed expression didn't betray his thoughts.
"I imagine Severus will have a decent explanation for this. He knows better than to do anything without one."
McGonagall got up from her chair when all students had found seats. "Welcome, students. I know many of you worried about your educational futures when Hogwarts closed a year ago. But with the war over and the danger vanquished, we're now able to continue your education where it left off. As you can see, there have been a few changes in the staff this year."
Glancing at her side, McGonagall smiled at Fleur. "Let me start by introducing your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Fleur Delacour."
Students applauded politely. Ron seemed more enthusiastic than Harry and Hermione, since he let out a little cheer. Fleur smiled generously at him.
"Then there is a familiar face returning to the position of Potions master. Now I know some of you," McGonagall let her gaze rest on Harry, "may have questions about his reinstatement, but allow me to tell you that Professor Snape played an important part during the war and his role was vital in ensuring our victory. I myself am grateful and pleased Professor Snape agreed to return to Hogwarts on such short notice."
Harry gritted his teeth, and Ron groaned, but around them tentative applause sounded.
"He'll never let you get away with using his book in class," Hermione said to Harry, and she sounded just a bit too satisfied with that. "You'll have to do all your work by yourself this year."
That's what you think, Harry thought, and his lips twitched when Voldemort chuckled.
"And lastly, please allow me to introduce my successor, your new Transfiguration teacher, Professor Hestia Jones."
The doors opened and in walked Hestia Jones, smiling winningly, followed by a horde of first-years.
"She was with the Order," Hermione said as she applauded. "And she was a Hufflepuff student here years ago. I'm sure she'll do really well."
"Who cares," Ron said. "As long as she's not as strict as McGonagall."
Harry rather agreed with Ron, but he kept quiet and sat back to watch the sorting.
*--*--*
"I'm going to assist the first-years," Hermione said at the end of the feast, and darted off.
"I'll walk to the tower with you," Ron said.
"No, that's all right. You can go and be a prefect." Harry needed time to discuss Snape with Voldemort, and thinking to him was a lot harder when someone was talking to him at the same time. "I'll walk up alone."
Before Ron could respond, someone cleared their throat behind them.
"Mr Potter, I need a word," Snape said, looming over them. "Slughorn may have thought you a Potions genius, but you and I both know where your sudden talent came from. If you wish to remain in my class this year, I suggest we discuss remedial Potions at once."
"You stinking bastard," Ron said, balling his hands into fists. "You can't just -- "
"I can and I will, Mr Weasley. Now hurry along before I assign you a detention."
"You don't scare me, you bloody traitor. I'd like -- "
"That will be one week of detention with Mr Filch, starting tomorrow, Mr Weasley."
Ron looked ready to explode, and Harry quickly put a hand on his shoulder. "Ron, it's all right. Go help Hermione. I'll deal with Snape." He gave Ron a little shove in Hermione's direction, and finally Ron walked away, shooting Snape disgusted glances over his shoulder.
"Let's talk," Harry said. Snape nodded and led him out of the hall towards an empty classroom nearby. Inside, Snape cast a few locking and silencing charms on the door and turned towards Harry.
"My Lord, I beg your forgiveness -- "
"Don't call me that here, Severus," Voldemort said. "Address me as Potter at all times."
Snape inclined his head. "Very well. I beg your forgiveness. McGonagall visited me last night and all but begged me to return to Hogwarts. Slughorn refused to teach again, saying he deserved his retirement, and she was in urgent need of a Potions master."
"And you could not have discussed this with me first, Severus?"
Staring at his shoes, Snape shook his head. "She needed a reply at once, and I had no opportunity to contact you, since you both were at the Ministry at that time. But I thought that since you'll both be here this year, it would make communication a lot easier."
"True," Voldemort said. "However, you will have less time to devote to my potion."
"Unfortunately, that is correct. I will have better equipment, though, and easier access to ingredients."
"Yes, I can see how this arrangement will be beneficial to both of us. You will be free of any suspicion of dabbling in less savory magic while you're teaching students here. And you can devote your free time to my potion."
"Indeed," Snape said with a nod. He sounded relieved.
"I do want you to sign Harry up for remedial Potions a few times a week. That way we can spend time together without anyone asking questions."
"Of course. I can't see McGonagall objecting to that."
"Very well. We will see you in class, Severus," Voldemort said, and Harry felt him retreating to the back of his mind.
"Professor," he said, as Snape aimed his wand at the door. "I want you to stop your bullying of me and my friends in your class. You don't have to treat us as your favorites, but stop being so bloody unfair."
"Spoken like a true Gryffindor, Potter," Snape said with a sneer. "I'll see what I can do." And with that he canceled the spells on the door and swept outside. "Tomorrow evening at seven, Potter, my office. We'll start your remedial Potions then."
"Bastard," Harry muttered, and sauntered out of the classroom.
"Yes, but a useful bastard."
Harry couldn't disagree with that.
*--*--*
"It's so strange to be back here," Harry said. He lay in his bed and stared at nothing in particular, arms hooked behind his head. He'd cast a few silencing spells and sticking charms on his curtains to ensure their privacy.
"It's certainly strange to stay in Gryffindor Tower, I'll give you that."
"And with Snape back and everything. He'd better not make my life more difficult than it already is."
"I trust Severus to show more respect for you this year. I will deal with him if he doesn't."
Harry felt a sort of grim satisfaction at that. Now he had his own Dark Lord to hold over Snape's head.
"Your own Dark Lord?" Voldemort laughed, and it sent tingles through Harry's body.
"Yeah, well, I don't see why I can't use you to my advantage for a change."
"You can use me however you like, my little Horcrux."
Harry licked his lips. "Can you...er...I know we don't have a mirror here, but I thought -- "
"You need a little help relaxing. I can certainly provide you with that. Allow me to show you something new." And Voldemort lowered Harry's hands, as Harry kicked the sheets towards his feet. Voldemort made quick work of Harry's pajama bottoms, and then pushed Harry's index finger against his lips.
"Suck on that."
Harry opened his mouth and sucked his finger inside, jerking his hips when his other hand closed around his half-hard cock. He didn't want to admit it, but having Voldemort jerk him off felt brilliant, as if someone else was touching him. His cock throbbed against his palm, and he sucked harder around his finger.
"Now spread your legs, Harry, and bring your knees up to your chest."
Harry turned his head to the side so his finger fell from his mouth. "I'm not sure I want that."
"You're going to enjoy this, I promise you. Just give it a try. If you don't like it, we won't do it again." Voldemort stroked Harry's cock a little faster, and Harry bit his lip to stop a moan from escaping.
"All right. Just to see what it's like." Harry drew his legs to his chest. He felt weird with his bum exposed like that, but he was quickly lost in pleasure when Voldemort tightened his fingers around his cock. He hardly even noticed his other hand moving southwards, until he felt his wet finger brush across his pucker.
"Oh, that's odd," Harry breathed, and yet he couldn't stop thrusting his hips in time with Voldemort's strokes. His finger pushed in a little, just the tip, and Harry jerked at the intrusion.
"Just relax, Harry. This will be brilliant."
Harry closed his eyes and imagined Tom Riddle touching him there, Tom's hand on his cock and Tom's finger slowly pushing inside his arse, and perhaps even Tom's body on his, rubbing and thrusting and --
"Oh, hell," Harry gasped, as his finger touched a little spot inside him that made his cock pulse with heat.
"That's your prostate. Feels good, yes?" Voldemort sounded a little breathless, and it made Harry want to squirm with arousal.
"Yeah. Don't stop."
"Wouldn't think of it."
Harry rocked against the hand on his cock, heat spreading from his balls, and the finger pushed deeper and deeper inside him, and Harry realized he was fucking his own finger, or was it Voldemort's finger? It didn't matter, not really, because it felt so good, so fucking good, and Harry thrust harder and Voldemort fisted him faster and Harry had no idea fucking your own finger was this brilliant.
"God, yes," he groaned, and arched his back, forcing his finger deeper inside as he came. Hot strings of come coated his skin, and it didn't seem to stop, all this heat and power, yes, it was power inside of him.
"It's our power, Harry."
Harry nodded as the bliss receded in lazy waves. "It feels nice."
"So you'll want to do this again?"
"Yeah, think so." Harry groaned when Voldemort pulled his finger out. It didn't hurt, but it felt a little odd. Voldemort reached for Harry's wand under the pillow, cast a few cleaning charms, and then gave control back to Harry.
"Are you relaxed enough to sleep now?"
"Yeah." Harry pulled the sheets up and turned on his side.
"Good night, my little Horcrux."
"Good night, my little Dark Lord," Harry whispered with a grin. Voldemort laughed so loud at that, Harry's entire body shook.
*--*--*
Harry's first day of classes passed quickly, and for the most part Harry felt as if he'd never left. It surprised him how easy it was to slip back into the role of student after the turbulent year he'd had, especially considering Voldemort was there inside him every minute of the day. Voldemort quickly decided Harry did well enough by himself in Herbology and Charms, though he did provide interesting facts and helpful suggestions during Harry's classes. Not to mention a sharp critique of almost every student and teacher they met.
"I know who our new Head of House is," Hermione said as she joined Ron and Harry in the Great Hall for dinner. "Professor Greisenbloo."
Both Harry and Ron stared at her.
"You know, from Ancient Runes?" Hermione released a exasperated sigh. "Anyway, McGonagall will introduce her to us this evening in the common room. She's very nice."
"Ah," Ron said, and returned to his meal.
"I won't be there," Harry said.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't tell me you've got a detention on your first day."
"No, that would be me," Ron said, grinning. "I won't be there, either."
"I've got remedial Potions." Harry poked at his potatoes, pretending to be miffed about it. "Snape seemed to think that without a certain book I'd be hopeless in his class, so he signed me up for extra lessons last night."
"Well, I can't say I disagree with that." Hermione turned to Ron. "And why did you get a detention?"
Ron leaned back in his seat, looking rather proud of himself. "Last night I called Snape a stinking bastard and a bloody traitor and -- "
"Honestly." Hermione started spooning carrots onto her plate, studiously not looking at Ron.
"She's very domineering, isn't she?"
Harry gave a little shrug. You'll get used to it.
"I seriously doubt that."
Harry hid his smile with a bite of peas.
Part 4