Warning: Desolation

Harry stirred briefly as he felt something heavy moving on top of him, but as the weight only made his sore limbs feel comfier he ignored it and drifted off back to sleep. It could have been an eternity, or perhaps only moments later, he heard a small cough bringing him back to the world again. Harry opened his eyes and felt a jolt of discomfort at the sight of Voldemort seated comfortably, smirking, in the armchair next to the fireplace while Harry was sprawled out on the settee. Harry felt himself actually jump and whip his head around as he felt something heavy move on his chest and found himself face to face with Nagini, who had been wakened by his movements and who unhappily flicked her tongue in his face. Harry started to try to sit up, being uncomfortable in such a vulnerable position but Nagini simply bared her fangs at him and Voldemort let out a soft chuckle, a sound which, once again, surprised Harry to hear. “I don’t think you’ll get very far,” Voldemort said. Harry was starting to feel the weight a lot less comfortable now, knowing it was Nagini, and now feeling all the aches in his body from falling to the ground multiple times that afternoon, as well as being flung across the room and smashing into the fireplace.

Harry turned his head to glare at Voldemort, and noticed that it was still mostly light outside, he must have only been asleep for an hour or two despite how groggy he felt waking up. “How did your lesson go?” Voldemort asked Harry innocently, his eyes raking over Harrys face and what must have been quite a spectacular bruise by now, telling Harry that Voldemort knew EXACTLY how the lesson had gone. Harrys scowl deepened and he felt his cheeks flush as he looked up to the ceiling, feeling anew the traces of rage he had experienced that afternoon. “I’m afraid that Severus perhaps won’t be suitable as a teacher for you, I’ll have to find someone else,” Voldemort admitted, and Harry felt a weight lift from his chest. A metaphorical weight, that is, as Nagini was still crushing him. “He appears to have left quite a bit of damage on you,” the man continued and when Harry flicked his eyes over he noticed Voldemort looking again at the injury on Harrys face, his expression unreadable.

“You haven’t…killed Snape, have you?” Harry asked hesitantly, finding himself fearing the answer to come. Voldemorts lips twitched slightly, as though finding the idea darkly humorous.

“Is that a request Harry?” He asked, “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.” He said with a small smile appearing on his face. “No, I have not killed Severus.”

“But you let Nagini kill Barty when he attacked me?” Harry interrupted.

“That was not ideal, but Barty was a bit…extreme, in his methods. It was perhaps for the best he was removed from my service. Severus is much more valuable to me however, he informed me of what happened and was punished, but his intent was never to kill or even seriously harm you.” Voldemort said quietly. Harry very much doubted that Snape hadn’t intended to seriously harm him, but at least he wasn’t dead because of Harry. “In the meantime, you had better continue with your studies” Voldemort said as he stood and Harry froze as the man walked over to him and lifted Nagini up before returning to his seat, stroking Nagini and talking softly to her. Harry sat up slowly, watching warily the gentle interaction between the two. It was strange to see Voldemort being so…kind, to anything, but then again, Harry had noted that Voldemort had been much calmer and kinder even to him these past few weeks, he wondered if it was as Tom had said and the man was trying to get Harry to see him in a more favourable light. If he was it was working, Voldemort seemed almost human in these moments. “I meant now, Harry. You can get on with your studies NOW.” Voldemort said without looking up, and Harry decided perhaps Voldemort could be trying harder. With a scowl he got up and walked over to seat himself at the desk to continue working, the soft croonings from Voldemort and Nagini too quiet to make out what they were saying, but loud enough for Harry to hear them.

Harry continued to struggle through the defence against the dark arts book, deciding to leave the occlumency book on the floor by the settee where it had fallen and finding his irritation growing along with his headache, nausea and hunger. By the time the sun had set and Voldemort had stood up with Nagini telling Harry to follow him, Harry was in a terrible mood and very ready to put the day behind him. He sat for a moment, not wanting to be entirely obedient, before getting up when his stomach gave a gruesome snarl, and trailed after Voldemort to the dining room. Voldemort made light conversation, which Harry answered as monosyllabically as possible, to the mans ire, until Harry had finished eating and was dismissively told to go to bed, which Harry did as quickly as possible.

In his room, he decided to take out Tom Riddles black book and update him on everything that had been happening.

When can you help me Tom? Surely there must be a good time soon, I need to get back to Hogwarts.

You must be patient Harry. If you’re rash then Voldemort will be suspicious and you won’t get very far before he finds you, and drags the existence of my book from your mind. And you won’t get very far without the book I might add, I know you are wary of me Harry, but I have imparted this knowledge to you so that we can help one another, so that we can escape together. Your escape is in my best interests as well, remember.

Harry sat back from where he had been hunched over the book on his bed and took a breath. It was true, he had grown suspicious of Tom Riddle and the book and his insistence that they wait. Harry didn’t know how Tom had guessed, he thought he had been writing normally but he must have said something that made the other boy notice. He didn’t know why he didn’t trust Tom, he had at first, but something had begun to niggle at the back of his mind, something about the way the boy said things felt…very familiar but also very wrong at the same time. Harry decided to try and smooth things over.

Sorry Tom, I do trust you. I just don’t like being here. It’s nothing to do with you.

That’s alright Harry, I understand your predicament better than you think. I too am a prisoner of Voldemort, of sorts. We will get out of here as soon as we can. Keep your eyes peeled and let me know the moment anything significant happens.

With that, Harry closed the book and with great pain dragged himself into his pyjamas and into bed, his body still sore and his headache getting much worse now, he probed at his face, wincing at the bruise and wound still there before laying down in bed and going to sleep, silently cursing greasy potions masters as he did.

The next morning Harry joined Voldemort downstairs for breakfast, it seemed the man was in a much better mood that morning than Harry had left him in the previous evening, and Harry himself was feeling much more refreshed although he felt like someone had been dancing around on his facial bones all night. Harry and Voldemort ate in relative silence, and once finished Voldemort placed a book on the table and slid it over to Harry.

“‘A trolls guide to magical maladies’?” Harry read aloud from the cover of the book as he picked it up and began to flick through it.

“Yes, you should do something about your face, I think one scar is grotesque enough to be going on with.” Voldemort said as he sipped his tea, Harry threw him a glare, but reverted his attention back to the book. It was a medical book, a beginners guide, explaining the theory of healing wounds, some basic anatomy, the art of bone growing. “Don’t try anything unless I am around, healing magic can go very wrong very quickly so just find out what you will need in the book and come and find me when you are ready to try to heal yourself.” Voldemort said as he picked up that mornings newspaper. Harry nodded absentmindedly as he flicked threw the pages before he fully registered what had been said.

“Hang on, come and find you?” He asked, “How will I do that?”.

“You will look around the house, and if you can’t find me anywhere else then knock on my door, I will probably be in there.” Voldemort answered. Harry stared at him blankly, and after a moment Voldemort let out a very small sigh and looked over to Harry. “I need to remain here today, I have work to do, so you will be able to come and find me once you have done the required reading and are ready to attempt the spellwork.” Voldemort said slowly before returning his attention to the newspaper, and Harry didn’t quite know what to respond to that. He didn’t feel quite as uncomfortable around Voldemort as he had when he was first taken here, but the man had never stayed for a whole day before. “Stop staring Harry. I believe you have work to be getting on with,” Voldemort said annoyedly and Harry picked up the book and hurriedly made his way out of the dining room. “And Harry,” Voldemort said suddenly just as Harry reached the door. He paused and turned his head. “I would encourage you to try and renew your interest in occlumency, a bad teacher should not ruin a whole subject, and I think you’ll find I have less tolerance for failure.” After a moment of silence once again from Harry as he paused to mull over those final words Voldemort pushed his newspaper down onto his lap with a loud crinkle. “I will be taking your lessons from now on.” And after Harry remained glued to the spot looking at Voldemort in mild horror a grated “Get out!” followed and Harry finally made his way out of the dining room. He stopped off in the library to pick up the occlumency book and then began to hurriedly make his way back through the house, deciding he’d rather be outside as much as possible today if Voldemort was going to be around. This was a good decision as Harry almost bumped into Voldemort as the man was leaving the dining room and after feeling a harsh glare directed his way Harry skipped past and found himself jumping down the steps and running the final stretch to the door and the garden where he settled in the shade of a bush.

He soon got stuck into the medical book, finding he was much more interested in that than attempting to read the occlumency book just now, and found the time flew by as he soaked up the information. He was also motivated by the fact that he had an ugly gash on his face, and it still hurt quite a bit. It didn’t seem Voldemort would heal it, and Harry quite honestly didn’t want the man using any magic on him at all, even though…well even though, again, Harry found an area that he had begun to trust Voldemort in. He KNEW that, while it was really for the soul fragment, the last thing Voldemort wanted was Harrys death or injury, so therefore he would never kill or harm Harry, and Harry found himself trusting the man in that regard. He found himself scowling as he tried to ignore the other revelation that he’d been refusing to acknowledge. Harry didn’t completely hate Voldemorts company, it was probably because there was no one else to talk to, he reasoned with himself, but he found he was happier on the days when Voldemort had visited and spoken to Harry than the days he didn’t show up at all. It didn’t matter though, Harry would have to speak to Tom tonight and they’d have to make their escape soon, if Voldemorts occlumency lessons were anything like Snapes then Voldemort would easily find out about the book.

By about mid day Harry felt he had a basic idea about which spell he should use and how and decided to go and make some lunch. Voldemort didn’t seem to be going about, so Harry made himself a sandwich and took it outside to eat, deciding to sit in the sun this time and enjoy the feeling of the sun roasting his skin and sinking into his bones. After he’d finished he lay back on the soft grass and found himself suddenly feeling quite content, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the occasional waft of a gentle breeze. At some point he heard a slithering sort of a sound, and the rush of grass. He cracked his eyes open and saw Nagini slithering off to coil up on a smooth stone that must have been quite hot in the sun, he closed his eyes again for a moment before he heard a louder sound, of fabric brushing through grass and his eyes flew open again. He saw a figure sitting down next to him and as Harry sat up he saw it was Voldemort, sitting on the grass with his arms hanging on his knees. He was still wearing full black robes, and at first Harry wondered how he wasn’t boiling alive in them, but then he remembered: magic.

Voldemort was staring ahead, looking out over the garden almost peacefully but for the almost permanent dark look in his eyes that even now was present. Harry waited for the man to speak but when the silence had stretched on for long enough, Harry decided that he wasn’t going to be scared of Voldemort. He refused to be, and so he lay back down and closed his eyes, intending to appear nonchalant and as though he was enjoying the summer heat…which, actually he was. He really didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he had been expecting, it really said something that he was more comfortable here and more comfortable in the presence of the man who had killed his parents than he was with the Dursleys. If they were still alive and he knew that leaving here would mean returning to Privet Drive, Harry began to wonder if he wouldn’t just stay here. He immediately felt a wave of guilt crash over him at those thoughts however. The Dursleys had been murdered, Dudley had been burnt alive. And he was here studying, sunbathing, having conversations with the man who had caused their deaths. He tried to tamp down those thoughts, he didn’t exactly have much of a choice in any of this, he still didn’t even know what Voldemorts plans were for him. Harry opened his eyes. He decided he would simply have to ask then. He sat up.

“I want to know what you’re planning on doing with me.” Harry stated, with a confidence in his voice he was surprised to hear, but glad of. He noticed the ever so slight change in Voldemorts demeanour, it was so small, just a hint of a tenseness around his shoulders and a hardening around his eyes, but Harry had been careful to be very observant.

“And why would you want to know that? Perhaps I have something terrible in store for you.” Voldemort said quietly but carefully, not looking at Harry.

“That would make me want to know even more,” Harry replied determinedly. Voldemort said nothing, he remained quiet for a very long time, and Harry began to grow impatient and frustrated. He had opened his mouth to speak again when Voldemort finally spoke.

“I am…unsure,” The man admitted. Harry was stunned. He noticed Voldemorts brow was now lightly furrowed and as the man finally turned to look at Harry, he noticed that he really did look a bit unsure. “Killing you is no longer an option,” he said.

“Fantastic,” Harry muttered, Voldemort ignored him.

“I can not let you roam free, I…” Voldemort hesitated and stopped. His eyes turning back to the garden and coming to rest on Nagini. “For now we shall have to work around one another. As for the future…” Voldemort tailed off again, staring into the garden, lost in thought. Harry decided that he’d be as well taking the opportunity to get information out of Voldemort while he could, and decided to ask something else that had been on his mind.

“You mentioned a prophecy,” Harry said, “A prophecy that…you said it caused you to come after me that night…” Harry prompted, Voldemort was paying attention, he could tell, but he said nothing. “What was the prophecy? What was it about, what did it say?” he asked. Voldemort continued to look ahead, Harry waited patiently, he waited a very long time to make sure the man wasn’t going to speak, but eventually realised that Voldemort had no intentions of answering his question. Harry furrowed his brow, and before he could consider if he even wanted to ask this, another question had slipped out. “Do you regret what you did the night you murdered my parents?” he asked. Voldemorts head tilted upwards, his eyes closed as the sun hit his pale face and he took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. His eyes opened as he turned his head towards Harry with a slight scowl on his face.

“You are a noisy little boy,” he said with a slight edge to his voice. But he continued, “It is not quite as simple an idea as mere regret,” he paused to think for a moment. “I believe that I would ideally have gone about the situation differently, in hindsight. The spilling of magical blood is a waste, and I believe one that I do regret, especially when I did not have all the information at my disposal” Harry was holding his breath. He wasn’t sure why it was so important to him whether or not Voldemort regretted what he did, but all he knew was that it felt crucial. Voldemort began to mutter slightly here, as though airing his thoughts aloud “My old body was rash, a touch of madness perhaps, addling in the darkest of magics…but the new one…” the man trailed off again, and Harry recognised that he seemed to have touched on a few topics that Voldemort himself didn’t seem to have answers for, or that were new thoughts for him. The man suddenly stood up, and began to turn towards the house. “Come inside, I think you’ve had plenty of time to study and prepare.” he said, and after sitting a moment in surprise at the sudden change of topic, Harry picked up his books and went inside.