30
The days began to blur together as summer crept across the grounds, each one melting seamlessly into the next like watercolors bleeding on parchment. Alice found herself settling into an even deeper routine with her unusual companions – one that felt as natural as breathing, though she knew others might find it rather extraordinary.
The coastal trips with Astoria became a regular occurrence, their friendship blooming under the warm summer sun. Where once Astoria had trembled at every shadow, she now spoke more freely, though she still maintained a careful distance from their intimidating escort. Alice couldn't help but notice how Voldemort seemed to take a peculiar satisfaction in observing their interactions, as though studying some fascinating experiment.
"You've done wonders with her," Antonin remarked one afternoon as they watched Astoria confidently identifying coastal herbs. "She barely stutters anymore."
"She was never actually timid," Alice replied, sorting their collected specimens. "Just... understandably cautious."
Alice glanced up from her work, noticing a familiar tall figure standing at a distance, observing their group with what seemed to be carefully concealed interest. He'd been doing that more often lately – watching their outings from afar, lingering just a bit longer each time. Today, he seemed particularly focused on their simple picnic setup.
Making a decision, Alice rose gracefully to her feet. "My Lord?" she called out, her voice carrying across the sand. "I wonder if you might spare us a moment of your time?"
Voldemort turned, his expression carefully neutral as she approached him. "Yes?"
"We've been studying some fascinating variations in coastal potions ingredients," she said, her eyes bright with genuine enthusiasm, clasping her hands behind her back. "But there are several advanced theoretical applications that I believe only you could properly explain. Would you consider joining us? It would be invaluable to have your expertise."
For a moment, she thought he might refuse. Then, with movements that seemed deliberately measured, he settled onto the blanket Antonin had conjured. Astoria looked like she might faint.
"Miss Greengrass," he acknowledged, making the poor girl jump. "I trust your studies of coastal flora are progressing satisfactorily?"
"Y-yes, my Lord," Astoria managed, her voice barely a whisper.
Alice quickly intervened, opening the picnic basket to reveal an elegant spread that put their usual fare to shame. "This looks wonderful. Though I don't suppose you'll actually eat anything?" she added teasingly, earning a sharp look that held more amusement than warning.
"I suppose I must," he replied dryly, "if only to demonstrate proper pure-blood dining etiquette."
Antonin made a sound that might have been a hastily disguised laugh. "Of course, my Lord. We wouldn't want anyone developing improper habits."
The meal that followed was perhaps the strangest picnic in wizarding history – the Dark Lord himself sitting rigidly on a conjured blanket, taking occasional small bites with precise movements while Antonin watched with poorly concealed entertainment. Astoria remained frozen in terror, but Alice noticed her gradually relaxing as the minutes ticked by without anyone being cursed.
"The migration patterns of magical marine life are particularly active this season," Voldemort observed, breaking a lengthy silence. "Perhaps Miss Greengrass would benefit from observing them."
It was such a clear attempt to engage in normal conversation that Alice felt a rush of warmth. "That would be fascinating," she agreed. "Astoria was just telling me about some rare specimens her family's documented near their coastal property."
“Indeed." His tone carried polite interest, making Astoria straighten slightly.
"Y-yes, my Lord. We've observed several pods of Hippocampi..." Her voice grew stronger as she delved into familiar territory, her passion for the subject temporarily overwhelming her fear.
Alice watched in quiet amazement as Voldemort actually engaged in the discussion, offering occasional insights about magical marine ecosystems. It was such a startlingly normal scene – a teacher with his students, sharing knowledge over lunch – that she almost forgot who they were, where they were, and all the complex circumstances that had brought them to this moment.
Almost.
Alice, in turn, had become very attune to the subtle nature of the Dark Lord. It continuously surprised her how much she had come to feel at home with just the turn of a few seasons. It was not lost on her how much of this had to do with his attempts to create moments of normalcy, however awkward or unconventional, resonated deeply. The picnics, the shared knowledge, the quiet moments of simply existing in each other's company – these small gestures spoke volumes to her, revealing a side of him hidden beneath layers of power and darkness. She found herself touched by his efforts, recognizing a genuine desire for connection that transcended the roles they played in the wider world.
One afternoon, Alice found Narcissa in her private sitting room, a cup of tea cooling forgotten beside her as she reviewed correspondence.
"Narcissa?" Alice settled into a nearby chair, fidgeting slightly. "May I ask you something?"
The elegant witch set down her letters, giving Alice her full attention. "Of course, dear."
"What makes the Dark Lord happy?" The question came out musing. "It's just... I think he's been trying to make me happy, in his own way. The picnics, the lessons... he’s been… more considerate of me lately."
Narcissa's teacup clattered against its saucer – a rare show of genuine surprise from the usually composed witch. "In all my years of service," she said slowly, "no one has ever asked that question. At least, not with your particular... motivation."
"What do you mean?"
"Others have asked what pleases the Dark Lord, certainly, but always to curry favor or avoid punishment….always an agenda." Narcissa studied Alice's face carefully. "Power makes him happy. Knowledge. Control. These things have always been constant. But..."
"But?"
"But I've never seen him change as he has since your arrival. The way you treat him – not as the Dark Lord… " She paused, choosing her words with care. "Perhaps that, more than anything, has brought about the most remarkable change I've witnessed in him."
Alice absorbed this, turning the words over in her mind. After several days of contemplating Narcissa's words, Alice realized she was perhaps overthinking things. What came naturally to her now, after all these months, was simply to be direct with him. It was one of the things that seemed to both amuse and intrigue him about her – her willingness to simply ask what others would scheme and plot to discover.
As the sun began to set that evening, she made her way to the throne room just as the day's court was concluding. Several Death Eaters and nobles were still filing out, their hushed conversations faltering as she passed. A few of the regulars – those who'd grown used to her peculiar position in the household – merely nodded, while others watched with poorly concealed curiosity as she made her way forward.
She paused halfway up the center aisle, observing him as he reviewed what appeared to be the day's final petitions. The fading sunlight streaming through the high windows cast long shadows across the marble floor, and she found herself studying how the dying light played across his features.
"Are you planning to present a case before my court, Alice?" His sardonic voice carried clearly through the now-nearly-empty chamber. He hadn't looked up from his scrolls, but she could see the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. "Or do you simply enjoy providing the evening's entertainment?"
"Oh, I think you provide enough entertainment on your own, my Lord," she replied, grinning. "That last lord looked ready to faint when you regarded him."
"It wasn't a look of amusement. It was merely an acknowledgement."
"Ah, my mistake. Though in fairness, such subtle nuances are often lost on us lesser beings." Now he did look up, crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "You're feeling particularly bold this evening."
"Actually," she said, moving closer to the throne, "I was wondering if I might join you. For whatever it is you do after days like this."
That caught him off guard. She watched with interest as surprise flickered across his serpentine features, quickly masked but unmistakable.
"I generally continue working," he said slowly, studying her with newfound curiosity. "Reports, correspondence, strategic planning... hardly entertaining pursuits. What brings on this sudden interest in my evening activities?"
"Well," Alice said, rocking slightly on her heels, as she clasped her hands behind her, "I've noticed you've been making quite an effort to pull me from my books lately… picnics, seaside lessons..." She grinned. "I find myself wondering what you do in your time alone," she added, eyes twinkling, "I've always wondered what the fearsome Dark Lord does when he's not making grown men tremble. Do you perhaps have a secret knitting hobby? A passion for chess? Or do you just sit in dark rooms plotting world domination?"
A sound escaped him that was suspiciously close to a genuine laugh. He rose from his throne with fluid grace, regarding her with that particular look that meant she'd managed to genuinely amuse him.
"Such boundless curiosity... how very intriguing. And how very unwise it would be should it stray too far." He gestured toward the door. "Though I'm afraid you'll be terribly disappointed to find my evening activities involve neither knitting nor aimless brooding. Strategic world domination, however, does occasionally feature. Come – if you're truly determined to waste your evening watching me review reports, we might as well do so somewhere more comfortable than this drafty chamber."
As she fell into step beside him, heading toward his private study, she caught the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.
His private study was lined with ancient texts, a massive desk of dark wood dominating the space, and a fire that seemed to ignite at their entrance, casting warm light across the room. Without waiting for permission – she'd learned by now when she could take such liberties – Alice settled into a plush armchair near his desk, curling her legs beneath her.
"May I?" she asked softly, gesturing to one of the books on a nearby table.
He nodded, watching with that particular intensity she'd grown accustomed to as she reached for the leather-bound volume. Something in his expression shifted, almost softened, as she made herself comfortable.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, broken only by the scratch of his quill and the turning of pages, he paused in his writing. With a subtle wave of his wand, a small silver tray materialized on the table beside her, laden with delicate pastries and a steaming cup of tea.
"I’m not having dinner," he said simply, not looking up from his work. "I find your mortal basic necessities... tiresome."
Alice smiled into her book, touched by the gesture masked as mild criticism. "Thank you, my Lord."
The fire crackled softly as they settled into their respective tasks, the evening stretching peacefully before them.
The summer days dwindled away in a peaceful lull, each one a quiet echo of these newfound rhythms they'd established. The coastal trips with Astoria continued, the young witch growing ever more confident under Alice's guidance. Sometimes now, Voldemort would join them without invitation, materializing on the shore like a dark sentinel before settling into their scholarly discussions with surprising grace.
Their evenings took on a pattern of their own – Alice often finding herself in his study, curled in what she'd come to think of as 'her' chair, while he worked at his massive desk. Sometimes they would talk, their conversations ranging from ancient magical theory to the subtle complexities of power. Other times, they simply existed in comfortable silence, the crackling fire and scratching quill creating a strangely domestic symphony.
On particularly pleasant evenings, they would walk the grounds together, their steps matching naturally as they discussed the day's events or simply enjoyed the quiet. Alice found herself studying his profile in these moments, noting how the tension he carried seemed to ease slightly in these private hours, when the weight of his empire rested a little lighter on his shoulders.
It was during one such evening walk, as the sun painted the sky in brilliant golds and crimsons, that Alice realized how completely her world had shifted. The Dark Lord beside her, this strange peace they'd built, the delicate balance of power and something almost like friendship – it had all become as natural as breathing. Perhaps that should have frightened her more than it did. Sometimes, in the deepest part of night, the Muggle Minister's desperate plea would echo in her mind – "help your people" – and she would find herself staring at the ceiling, wondering about those vessels he'd shown her, perfectly innocent stones that somehow still left the faintest shadow of doubt in her mind.
But in the warm embrace of these summer days, surrounded by the first real sense of family she'd ever known, those midnight worries seemed to fade like morning mist, replaced by the simple comfort of belonging. This twisted fairy tale had somehow become her home, even if small questions lingered in the corners of her consciousness, waiting for winter's chill to give them voice again.