Chapter Text
Narsissa curtseyed. Deeply. She had been taught from a young age that mastering a proper curtsey was a requirement for all respectable pureblood ladies. It required a straight back, a bent neck and eyes cast firmly downwards.
Beside her, Draco bent into a well-practised bow; his fingers were trembling. Narcissa would have to work on that.
“Welcome, dear Narcissa, young Draco.” The Dark Lord smiled from the table's head, his quiet voice echoed coldly through the room, “Come, join us.”
Narcissa allowed her eyes to rise up, she quickly glanced around the room. They had arrived early, but most seats were already taken.
Bella, already seated some way down the ornate table, turned her head with their arrival. She quickly smiled at her sister, then her head flicked back around. It was the only detectable movement. Everyone else had their hands clasped firmly in their laps, eyes staring forward. No one spoke; even Narcissa’s own breathing seemed indecently loud.
Narcissa quickly forced her Occlumency barriers to click into place. She had by no means mastered the mind art, but all the Blacks were born with some innate talent. It was enough to keep her emotions subdued.
She moved quickly toward the two empty seats next to her husband; her heels clicked neatly on the Peverell’s marble floor. Draco followed silently behind her. It seemed they were to be honoured, her family’s seats were placed rather close to the Dark Lord.
At Draco’s hesitation, she gestured minutely for him to take the seat closest to his father. She then pulled her own chair out from the table silently. Draco rushed to copy her, but his chair shrieked against the stone as he dragged it back, the sound cutting horrifically through the chamber.
Across the table, Rosier flinched. Narcissa felt her heart lurch within her ribs. Draco froze; his face was white. His eyes lifted, terrified, up to the Dark Lord.
But Voldemort did not look at him; there was no change to his empty expression, his gaze was fixed firmly forward, staring at the chamber doors. Draco swallowed and sat, his movement rigid. Narcissa swiftly sat next to him.
She kept her back straight and her face blank.
Time in the room seemed to move impossibly slowly, the rooms near overwhelming silence only broken by the jarring sounds of another's entrance. There was Travers, who only managed a rather misshapen, albeit deep bow upon his arrival, then Yaxley, who looked particularly waxen, and then- Dear Merlin was that the Potter child?
Narcissa felt her Occlumency shields wilt under the pressure of her shock. She quickly pulled her barriers back up, stuffing her emotion firmly behind a wall in her mind. She pinched her lips together and forced herself to blink blankly. From the corner of her eye, she could see Draco try valiantly to hide his own shock; his eyes were wide.
The boy himself merely glanced around the room. His posture was straight; a slight sneer rested on his face. He wore dark robes, not entirely dissimilar to the uniform of the Death Eaters; his hair had been neatly combed.
Narcissa blinked. There was no reasonable explanation for the boy to be here, and seeming so unlike himself. He looked like a purebred Slytherin.
Potter hadn’t been seen by the broader circle of Death Eaters since he had been snatched from Hogwarts itself. The last she heard of him was that he had been quietly stuffed into some back corner of the Peverell manor. Which they all now sat within.
She wanted to look at the Dark Lord for some guidance, search his face for some clue. Was the boy meant to be ignored? Should she sneer at him as he passed or were they to be welcoming? Narcissa, at a slight loss, kept her face perfectly blank.
With the boys' entrance, the chambers' lighting had softened, become less forbidding. It was as if Peverell Manor itself was trying to appear more welcoming for its young heir. The boy himself didn’t seem to notice. His eyes looked over each of them as he slowly walked towards where the Dark Lord sat. They rested a moment longer on her son; did he seem relieved to see Draco? They were the only children in the room.
Narcissa looked up at Severus, trying to determine if he too was surprised by the boy’s presence. The man was the most trusted and esteemed among them; he had killed Dumbledore.
However, Severus’ expression was blank; it was impossible to read. Bella, next to him, seemed to have no such appreciation for subtlety. Narcissa could read every expression on her sister’s face. Bella often - what was that muggle expression? - ‘wore her heart on her sleeve’. Her pretty features were presently arranged in a mosaic of jealousy, mild surprise and perhaps a pinch of heartbreak. Her lips were twitching as if fighting the urge to scowl at the poor boy. Narcissa didn’t understand her restraint, Bella usually adored letting her enmity known, loudly.
The Dark Lord gestured wordlessly to the boy. Potter walked forward and sat in the chair immediately to Voldemort’s right. He seemed faintly…happy to see the child.
Narcissa blinked.
It seemed he was to be the last one joining them, as the Dark Lord turned to face the larger table, “Friends.” Voldemort’s voice was quiet, melodic. A small smile rested on his lips, “We join tonight in celebration.”
Someone sniffled quietly.
“Kingsley Shacklebolt is dead.”
A moment of silence and then loud jeers quickly erupted from the table. Bellatrix’s eyes were shining, her mouth open in a wide smile. Someone was thumping the table; several others were applauding. Narcissa clapped her hands together neatly, a bland smile pulled onto her face. Draco quickly began clapping too.
“Yes. With Shacklebolt dead and their Chosen One gone," Voldemort turned slightly so that he could smile at the boy next to him. The boy glared back, “The Order is without a figurehead.”
Narcissa pulled her lips into a wider smile. It was far more than that. Kingsley had been a highly proficient and decorated Auror before the ministry takeover. He was among the most distinguished and celebrated graduates of Hogwarts. In another world, he would have been Minister for Magic.
“We must thank Rookwood here for his kind efforts.” The Dark Lord smiled at the man seated to his left.
He waited again until the applause ended.
“In other happy news, Severus and I have been developing an additional defence to Hogwarts.” He now turned to another man, seated further down the table, “Avery, I expect with its completion, you can be trusted to find a suitable place for it and ensure it remains undisturbed?”
Avery nodded quickly, he was, as of rather recently, Hogwarts’ newest headmaster.
“It will need to be placed within the Forbidden Forest,” Severus said, his voice cold. “It will not be completed for some months, but I still feel the need to forewarn you that it is a remarkably powerful artifact,” He then smirked slightly, “Do try not to drop it.”
Avery scowled. He opened his mouth, doubtless for some butchered attempt at a clever remark, when the chamber doors slammed back open.
“My Lord! Forgive me.” Mulciber had raced into the room. His wide, stretched eyes made his long face appear uglier than usual. He fell heavily onto one knee. Every face had turned on him, “The Order, they broke in Gringotts.”
There was a stunned silence. Narcissa looked imperceptibly across at her sister. Bella had gone white. Why would the Order break into Gringotts?
“Explain it to me.” The Dark Lord’s voice sounded like it was being dragged through a vice. Narcissa felt her hands tense in her lap.
Mulciber looked up at his Lord, he looked terrified, “They broke into the Lestrange vault, I don’t know what they took bu-”
He was quickly interrupted; Voldemort had let out an inhuman shriek. His magic lashed out, coating the room in a blazing sheet of magic. Narcissa felt it as it struck her face, it felt like a rush of searing air. The chandeliers rattled loudly above them, the delicate glass clattering into each other.
“CRUCIO!”
Mulciber screamed, his yells were deafening. He collapsed onto his side, his body convulsing beneath the curse.
“How could they!” Voldemort roared. He had risen to his feet, his usual pearly white face had grown red, flushed with anger. His fury quickly turned to Bellatrix, who too stood at the first sign of Voldemort’s anger.
“I was assured that it would be safe there. You lied!”
“Please my lord,” Bella begged, her lower lip trembled. Her hands were clasped in front of her as if in prayer, “It should be impossible for them to enter, Gringotts hasn’t been breached in-”
Her words were cut off as another crucio was levelled at her, then Bellatrix too fell, screaming in agony.
Narcissa blinked.
Voldemort was panting, his eyes were wide. His magic was visibly rolling off his body; it looked like a dark shadow was building and then peeling away from him, it was filling the room. His fury was incandescent.
Under that table, Draco put his shaking hand into her lap. She clutched it. What had been in the vault?
Bella’s heavy screams eventually became hoarse and then grew silent, her throat ripped apart from her agony. Voldemort cut off the curse, sneering down at the witch. Bella fell limp against the floor. Her chest was heaving. Black twisted strands of her hair were stuck to her pale face; it was dripping in sweat.
The rest of them sat frozen, terrified to attract attention. Narcissa kept her eyes down on the table. All she could hear over the rush of her blood was her sister's desperate panting.
Then, there was a laugh, a noise of genuine delight. It cut through the room awfully, echoed occasionally off the cold walls. It sounded abhorrent here.
Narcissa closed her eyes briefly, feeling a flash of fear on behalf of the idiotic child.
“Four down.”
The boy was grinning at the Dark Lord, his white teeth on full display. His dark hair blended seamlessly into the room’s shadows. The Dark Lord didn’t look at him, but his face had grown cold.
Narcissa had no idea what Potter meant, but she was certain that whatever nonsense the boy was spewing was going to get him killed.
She braced herself for the Dark Lord’s curse to fall onto the boy, indeed, his hand twitched, but he did not yet raise his wand.
Potter’s eyes were alight, the brilliant green seemed too colourful for the silent room, “Not feeling quite so smug now?”
Voldemort clenched his jaw; he gripped his wand tighter as he turned to face the boy. The house, as if responding to this, seemed to titter as if warningly. The lights had again taken on a sickly green hue; it looked almost menacing.
The Dark Lord, ignoring the quiet threat, leaned over the table; his voice dropped to a murmur. Narcissa didn’t think they were supposed to be able to hear him, but she always had a remarkable talent for picking out whispers.
“You will mind your tongue, or you will find yourself regretting your words tonight, my beloved.” There was a mocking tone on the endearment.
Narcissa blinked.
Potter had become pale; he glared back wordlessly.
The Dark Lord spoke louder then, “I need to…re-evaluate.” His eyes were still fixed on the boy. “You are dismissed.”
They all sat stupidly for a moment, confused by the sudden change.
Voldemort looked up at them all, “Get out!” he screeched.
Narcissa gripped Draco’s hand and quickly stood. She didn’t bother to look for Lucius, trusting he would follow them.
Around them, chairs were quickly pushed back; people began rushing towards the door. Several grown men were practically tripping over themselves, shoving at each other to dash towards their escape. Someone was dragging Mulciber from the room, he was pale, drool had coated his chin.
Narcissa quickly ushered her son out before her. As she had sat on the far side of the room, closer to Voldemort, she was one of the last to leave. She dared to glace around, back towards the Dark Lord. He was still standing in front of the Potter boy; his black robes were flickering.
Narcissa watched as a pale hand reached down, its long white fingers grazing the boy’s cheek. He was saying something to him. She couldn’t see if the boy responded. He then bent down so that his face would be level to Potters. He leaned in even closer-
-and the door slammed shut in her face.
It might be quick. It might even be painless. I don't know. I've never died.
He wandered through the halls, bare feet pattering quietly on the cold floor.
The house was quiet. It was always quiet.
Empty rooms opened into empty hallways with firmly shut windows. He let his hand trail over the wall as he walked, tracing the repeating patterns of the wallpaper. It was a creamy white, like the inside of eggshells or the evening clouds. It was illuminated by the bright morning sunlight that streamed through the windows. It made the elegant house seem friendly; at a stretch, it could even be described as homely.
Harry just felt cold.
“Hello hatchling.”
Harry turned around, a giant snake had slithered out into the hallway. The sunlight traced her scales, casting a purple shimmer onto her back.
“Nagini.”
The snake moved closer, “Are you sad hatchling?”
Harry didn’t respond.
The snake cooed at him, “Do not worry, master is nearby. I will take you to him.”
Harry took a few steps back, but the snake surged forward, rather quickly for something of its size. It wrapped her body around him, her tongue flickering out. He could have sworn that she licked him.
Harry kept his face carefully blank. It was pointless trying to explain to the snake that master was the reason he was sad, or that he might want to speak to something other than a snake, or that Harry wanted to go outside, to leave and never, ever return. To her, life was perfect, Voldemort was utterly splendid and there was no greater joy than sitting at the Dark Lord's feet.
Still, with her rather strong insistence, he stiffly walked alongside the snake as she eagerly moved through the halls. With her, more doors became unlocked, opening more areas of the house. Harry scowled, the manor had deemed it necessary for him to be babysat by a snake.
After walking for some time, they came to a larger arched doorway. It slowly opened in front of them. Harry walked forward, but paused slightly at the threshold, just before the archway. He was rarely allowed outside of his quarters; he hadn’t left them in the last month. The snake, oblivious to his hesitation, slithered forward happily, her cold body bumping against his leg as she rushed past. Harry scowled to himself.
What sort of Gryffindor are you?
He moved forward then, quickly, as if to make up for his moment of hesitation.
The snake, ahead of him, had twisted around, ensuring that he was following. Harry ignored her, instead looking around him as he walked. He had been through here, several times before in fact, but there was still enough novelty to the experience that he found himself peering into open rooms. He catalogued the furniture – it all looked rather old, noted the wallpaper – it was green here.
Nagini hissed into the air. Harry twisted his neck back around to look down at her, she prodded pointedly at a door.
Harry, after a moment of hesitation, moved up behind her and knocked.
The door opened quickly; vivid red eyes met his.
“It appears, Nagini has brought company with her.” Voldemort did not seem surprised to see him. In fact, he noted, he looked…happy.
Harry inclined his head slightly, the snake rushed past him, wrapping herself around Voldemort’s chair.
Voldemort stroked her head gently, a practised gesture. He looked back at Harry, lifting his other hand, “Come to Lord Voldemort.”
Harry kept his eyes downcast, stepping into the study. Only then did he notice that Voldemort had had company.
Snape stared at Harry. His expression was blank, eyes slanted almost as if bored. His skin was a deathly white.
“Severus was aiding me in finishing the Hogwarts wardstone.” Voldemort smiled at his loyalist follower, then turned back to Harry, “However, I am delighted to see you again, my beloved.”
Snape managed to become even whiter, which was impressive given the man’s pale complexion.
“Sit.”
Harry moved forward, wordlessly dropping into the chair to Voldemort’s left. He was now across from Snape. Voldemort hummed, he reached one of his spidery hands out, threading it through Harry’s dark hair. Harry looked down at the table, he didn’t need to see Snape’s expression.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“Yes.”
Nagini hissed, “He’s lying!”
Voldemort hand stilled and then retreated, “You dare lie to Lord Voldemort?” He asked quietly.
Harry turned his head away, “I’m not hungry alright.”
Nagini hissed again, Harry almost hissed right back, like someone quite deranged.
“Now, now, Nagini we have company.” Voldemort turned to look at Snape, “Excuse us Severus, I will call upon you later.”
Snape nodded, but for a moment he hesitated. His eyes returned to Harry’s. Harry glared at him, his eyes green slits. Snape looked away.
“My Lord, I feel it would be prudent to further discuss the aid I might offer the boy-”
“That will be all Severus.” Voldemort’s quiet voice was cold.
Snape again hesitated, but then he nodded and strode towards the door. He didn’t look back. Harry watched him leave wordlessly.
There was then silence.
Harry swallowed. He didn’t like it when it was quiet, through it never seemed to bother Voldemort. In fact, the man only smiled at him. He leaned back into his chair in a pose that looked almost relaxed.
Harry looked down. He wanted to ask about whatever Snape had been talking about, the mysterious ‘aid’. But Voldemort hadn’t seemed like he had wanted to discuss it. So, he stuffed his question down, subduing the reckless Gryffindor part of him.
It was the same part that wanted to scream and rage about never being able to leave the white walled rooms. The same part that desperately wanted to see his friends, that wanted to use his own fucking wand. It was the part that didn’t want to see a tall shadow in the doorway at night.
Harry gestured blandly to the desk in front of them, “What are the runes for?”
“They were imprinted into the wardstone which will defend Hogwarts.” Voldemort said, he leaned in closer again, “It will ensure no one can apparate out, even past the school’s original barrier. In fact, it shall extend the protected area by double.” Voldemort preened, “They are the work of magic unheard of before.”
Harry only nodded.
The snake, having uncoiled herself from Voldemort’s chair, now moved towards Harry. Voldemort watched her, a small absent smile on his face, “She does adore you.”
Harry once had the pleasure of Nagini telling him that she thought he would taste very good. “The young ones always do”, she had said, “the muscles are less fatty, the blood is sweeter”. She had licked him then, “I won’t eat you of course, not even a little. You’re my brother.” She looked up at him, her nose trying to wriggle underneath his shirt, “You do smell wonderful though.”
Harry didn’t like speaking to Nagini after that.
Voldemort’s expression soured; he had evidently noticed Harry’s quiet glances towards the room's open window. He waved his hand; the house quickly obeyed and snapped the window shut.
Harry looked back at Riddle.
“Come.” He said, gesturing for Harry to stand. Harry stood, confused. He moved to stand beside his chair, his back to the table. Voldemort rose, moving to stand in front of him.
“Did you want something?” Harry asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Voldemort smiled, “I missed you.”
Harry looked away, “You would have seen me a few hours ago.”
“Those conditions are not mutually exclusive.”
Harry didn’t know how to respond to that.
A cold hand reached up, it rested flat against his sternum. It would have been able to feel Harry’s heart, diligently beating on. Voldemort smiled, then pressed his hand harder, as if he wanted to feel past Harry’s quarrelsome heart, like he wanted to somehow feel his soul.
Harry shoved his hand away.
Voldemort…allowed it. But then he leaned in again, closer. Harry leaned away. He put his hands on the table, on either side of him, trying to stop his spine from pinching against the sharp wooden edge.
“My horcrux,” Voldemort whispered. Harry felt his smile against the curve of his ear, “My own soulmate.”
Hands reached up to his chest, then they trailed down, circling his waist, gripping him. They pressed him harder against the table.
“I am not your soulmate,” Harry whispered, mostly to himself.
Voldemort laughed. Harry was so shocked by the noise he almost didn’t feel the cold hands slipping under his shirt. “You share my soul beloved; there is no purer fulfilment of the word.”
Harry looked over Riddle’s shoulder. He tried to focus on the window. It was bright outside.
The house shut the study door.
Harry closed his eyes.
Always.
He almost vomited. His occlumency was impeccable, but this was abhorrent.
His mind was raging, his disgust battering against his built walls.
What should he do – there was too much. What must he do?
He had so many clever plans. None would work.
Those eyes. How they h a u n t e d him.
He knew he was himself a prodigy; he knew himself to be acuminous, but it wasn’t enough. He needed someone else.
Someone brilliant, someone bright.
They would build something together.
They would rip something apart.
He would save Lily’s child. Just as he had sworn to do.
Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.
He watched the manor burn.
It looked beautiful. Brilliant, boiling embers thrashed out, eating up the house in an inferno of red. It made for a handsome contrast against the cold sky. The pretty hedges surrounding the house quickly caught ablaze, adding to the scenery. He was distantly aware that he was grinning; he must have looked mad.
“Come on Harry! We need to leave!”
Harry didn’t want to look away.
“Harry!” Hands wrapped around his wrist, his eyes fell away from the house, meeting her brown ones. The fire looked wonderful in her eyes.
“Miss Granger’s assessment is correct. We will need to leave now Potter.”
Harry looked up. Snape had his wand pointed out in front of him, towards the house, ensuring the worst of the blaze was directed away from them. His face was slightly strained.
Harry focused back on the house. He flourished his hand once, allowing the fire to burn even brighter. With another shove, he pushed his magic out further, with a brilliant flash, an inferno made stag erupted from the rooftop. Its antlers seemed to frame the entirety of the dark sky.
Grinning, he then turned to his friend, “Right, hold on Hermione.”
With a crack, they apparated away.