Rumpelstiltskin and the Guardian

New York City

Rumpelstiltskin was exhausted. He couldn’t go on like this anymore. For two months he had tried everything short of decapitation to kill himself. Jumping off ravines and buildings, running in front of buses, and taking every muggle drug that could induce an OD. He had tried handguns and when that hadn’t worked, he had tried a shotgun. There had been one time with a cannon.

He had drowned himself, set himself on fire, blown himself up and finally tried electrocution. Nothing worked. The worst that ever happened to him was a temporary death, almost like a coma, and then a few hours later he was up and fully healed. The realization of his immortality hit him hard.

He would never see his son again.

After that horrible realization, his mind had turned inward. He wandered New York City like a ghost. He was constantly in motion, muttering to himself and causing passersby to stop and stare. As days turned to weeks, his hair had become dirty and matted, his clothes were ripped and torn, and his shoes had been shredded from the constant motion. Not once did he notice.

This had only ever happened once before. Very shortly after he had killed Milah, he had been spinning when he let his mind wander. He started thinking of his family and realized that everyone he had ever loved, abandoned him. Even his boy. When he had finally stopped spinning, six months had passed, and he had more gold than he could possibly use in several lifetimes.

Now, his mind was once again with his Baelfire. He couldn’t stop thinking about his death, about Zelena, and how she had tricked Belle and Bae. Over and over his thoughts tumbled trying to understand why this had to happen. After everything he had done to get him back. It just wasn’t fair.

Then his mind turned to the price of magic. Despite never knowing it. Despite being a good person without magic, Rumpelstiltskin had been a dark wizard long before he was the Dark One. As Lord Voldemort, he bent the rules of magic almost to the breaking point. Maybe the loss of his son, his Happy Ending, was the price. Maybe that was why he remembered who he really was only after his son’s death.

In the end, Lord Voldemort got what he wanted, immortality. Rumpelstiltskin had lost everything and the Darkness. Who the hell knew what it wanted? It was still there, whispering to him, trying to goad him into taking his rightful place. Was the Darkness Lord Voldemort? Or was it a distinct personality like Rumpelstiltskin?

And what rightful place? He had won no battles and had no honors during his time in the Land of Hidden Magic. He had no power, except the fear that had followed him like poison. Everyone had been too afraid of him to allow him a position. Not that he could blame them. Every time he created a horcrux and splintered his soul, his mind and body were splintered as well. Soon he looked and acted like the monster he was on the inside, a Beast of his own creation.

It scared him. Knowing what he had been and what he had done. Deep down, Rumpelstiltskin wanted to do good. It was why he went to fight the Ogres in the first war and why he saved the children in the second. There was a big part of him that wanted to help others, but he was a coward. He wanted to save people, but he didn’t want to die himself.

The price of immortality. Was that why, on some level, he was afraid of dying?

Yet, if that were true, he had overcome that fear. He had genuinely thought that stabbing himself would end his life. However, all it had done was transport him back to the Vault. Waiting for someone desperate enough to open it.

Why did it have to be his boy?

Why couldn’t it have been Belle?

He was ashamed of himself. Belle was supposed to be his True Love. Yet, after his boy died and the heroes left him at the mercy of Zelena, he realized that it would be easier to live without Belle then it would be Bae. He had already done it when Regina had her imprisoned. He’d thought she was dead. While it had broken his heart, it never crushed his soul like Baelfire’s death had.

After Zelena had been detained and Belle had bargained with him over the dagger, Rumple had thought about letting it go. Thought about letting “justice” run its course. Thought about being the bigger person. However, as soon as the thought flitted through his mind, he knew it would never happen. He was petty and Zelena had not only been responsible for his own son’s death, but the dark thoughts toward the woman he loved.

So he had killed her for it.

It hadn’t helped. The dark thoughts had never gone away. In moments when he didn’t feel good enough for Belle, he often thought he would rather have his son. He often thought he would be happier with his boy. The Darkness in him had whispered and cajoled. It had made the wound he carried in his heart fester, until in his darkest moments he almost hated Belle.

When he saw the hat, he knew he had found a way to save himself from being controlled. What had sold it for him, however, was the thought that without the Darkness he could love Belle with a full heart. Like he promised her he would.

Now he knew that was impossible. The Darkness was a part of him, and it would never go away. He would have these ugly thoughts about his own True Love, forever.

Suddenly, Rumple felt a pressure on his shoulder. He heard his name from far away, causing him to blink. Looking around he found himself face to face with Robin Hood and Maid Marian.

“Robin?” Rumple croaked, as he felt hands steady him. Looking around, he saw that he was sitting in a chair, wrapped up in a blanket. Sluggishly, Rumple realized he was in Baelfire’s apartment. Robin and Marian were standing in front of him.

However, something wasn’t right. Marian wasn’t right. He could feel magic emanating from her. It seeped into his bones, like spite. There was only one person whose magic had ever felt like that.

“Who are you, dearie?” Rumple asked, looking hard at Maid Marian as he stood.

“Mr. Gold,” Robin said, reaching over and putting a steadying hand on his shoulder, “It’s my wife, Marian.”

Gold said nothing. He was still woozy. From the corner of his eye, he could see her wooden smile and that familiar crazy glint in her eyes.

“Marian, my ass.” Rumple thought.

“Kill the witch,” The Darkness hissed.

“How did I get here?” Rumple groaned, appearing feeble. Had he walked here?

“You don’t remember?” Robin asked, looking at Rumple worriedly.

“I’m afraid not lad,” Rumple said, limping toward the table and closer to Marian.

“We found you as we were coming back from Roland’s school,” Robin replied, “so we brought you back here. You didn’t seem to understand us before.”

“Ah,” Rumple said, taking another clumsy step toward Marion and away from Robin. Suddenly, like a snake, Rumple snatched his arm forward and grasped Marion’s heart. Pulling it out, he heard Marian scream and Robin yell.

“I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” Rumple sneered, his voice high and impish.

“We helped you,” Robin growled, looking at Rumple with hatred, “We brought you into our home!”

“Yes, you did,” Rumple replied with a solemn look in Robin’s direction. He had a hard grip on Marian’s heart, “And I’m trying to return the favor.”

Looking at Marian he sneered, “Show yourself dearie,”

Marian glared hard at Rumpelstiltskin and snapped, “How did you know?” Then in a green puff of smoke Marian disappeared and Zelena reappeared. Robin gasped, “Marian?”

“Not Marian, lover,” Zelena smirked looking Robin up and down, “I can see why Regina was keen to keep you.” She winked at him, causing Robin to look positively ill.

“How?” Rumple growled.

“My pendent darling,” Zelena replied, “And a rather nasty time traveling spell. I made sure to be in the right place.”

“You killed Marian,” Robin whispered, distraught.

“Oh please,” Zelena sneered at Robin with an eye roll, “Like you care. You fucked my sister right next to your frozen wife’s body.”

Robin turned a nasty shade of green and looked away from Zelena, “That was you.”

“But you didn’t know that love,” Zelena giggled, a nasty gleam in her eyes, “You thought it was your perfectly sweet wife back from the dead, and yet you still fucked another woman right beside her cursed body.”

“Enough!” Rumple shouted, squeezing Zelena’s heart. She screamed and doubled over in pain, “It’s over!”

“It’s never over,” Zelena growled, clutching her chest where her heart should be, “It will never be over!”

“This time it will be dearie,” Rumple replied and squeezed her heart until he crushed it. Zelena’s eyes widened, she gasped, and then she collapsed at Robin’s feet. Rumple just stared at her body, his hand still clenched, and his body stiff. He was ready for her to spring back to life. He was ready to kill her as many times as it took.

Finally, Robin said, “I think she’s dead Mr. Gold.”

Rumple limped toward her body and kicked it, hard. She didn’t move. Then madness gripped Rumple’s mind and he began kicking Zelena’s body again and again until Robin grabbed the dark wizard and pulled him off her. Rumple struggled against Robin’s hold, but Robin was unyielding. While Rumple’s magic still burned strong, months of suicide attempts, no food, and manic moods had weakened Rumple’s body.

“Mr. Gold!” Robin shouted, “It’s over! She’s dead Mr. Gold! She’s dead!”

Rumple pulled away from Robin and glared at the other man. Glancing at Zelena’s dead body, Rumple sank to the floor. His body began to shake from gut-wrenching sobs as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the floor, feeling the cool boards on his overheated face.

Robin glanced at Zelena, expressionless. He then moved toward Rumpelstiltskin, kneeling beside him. He placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder and pulled him toward his chest. Rumple allowed it and found himself leaning into the younger man, sobbing his boy’s name over and over again. Robin just held him, his own tears mingling with the Dark One’s.

London

Harriet found herself pacing the length of her living room, still unable to sleep. Since her startling realization that Lord Voldemort was still alive, she hadn’t had any more nightmares. Yet sleep eluded her. Every time she tried, she felt ill. Almost like motion sickness. All she could do was pace and feel restless, wondering what Voldemort was up to. Wondering who she should tell and what she should say. No amount of alcohol could make her feel tired. Her mind whirled and never settled. She barely even ate.

She had taken to walking the streets when the whirling became too much. Her mind was so scattered that she rarely even took her wand or phone. Just herself, wandering the streets like a wraith. Even now she could feel the overwhelming urge to move.

Harriet had just decided to leave the apartment when, without warning, her body became leaden. She all but collapsed onto the kitchen chair. Yawning, Harriet couldn’t stop herself from laying her head on the kitchen table. She knew something was wrong with her, but she didn’t even have time to worry before she had fallen asleep.

New York City

Robin and Rumple sat side by side. Both leaning against the kitchen chairs, and each other, for support. They were just staring at Zelena’s dead body. She still hadn’t moved, and Rumple was becoming reasonably sure that she was actually dead this time.

“What are we going to do with her?” Robin asked. They could have called the police before Rumple had started kicking her, but now that would be impossible. Looking at the clock, Robin realized he would be expected to pick Roland up from school within the hour.

“Go pick up your boy,” Rumple said, realizing why Robin suddenly looked panicked, “I’ll take care of the body.”

“Are you sure?” Robin asked, his voice soft and gentle. He was worried about leaving Mr. Gold alone. After seeing Rumple’s break-down he couldn’t imagine truly hating the other man. Frustrated by his decisions? Yes. Scared of his power? Yes. Think he is an evil soulless monster? No. Never.

“Don’t worry lad,” Rumple replied, smirking at Robin, “I’m an old hat at getting rid of a dead body. Besides, I still have my magic. It will be a snap.”

Robin nodded and stood. He went to help Rumple, but Rumple ignored it and stood on his own. Robin could tell that Mr. Gold was a bit sheepish by his break-down, but he would never fault Rumpelstiltskin for it. He couldn’t imagine losing his son the way Rumpelstiltskin had.

Looking at the clock again, he hurried out the door. Rumple sincerely hoped that Robin could pull himself together. There would be questions about Marian’s disappearance, but he should be able to avoid them long enough to call Regina and figure out how to get back into Storybrooke.

“It’s just you and me dearie,” Rumple growled at Zelena’s dead body. He truly hated the witch. She had taken a wicked glee from hurting him. Often doing so for hours on end just to hear him scream. The things she had done to him were burned into his mind forever and he hoped wherever her soul ended up, she was paying for it.

Snapping his fingers, Zelena’s body turned into a cockroach. One that Rumple took great satisfaction in stepping on. He then grabbed a paper towel and cleaned up his mess. Rumple went to pull his phone from his outer pocket, intent on contacting Regina for Robin, when he realized it was gone. Checking for his wallet he was relieved to find that it was still in his inner pocket. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to replace any of his information. He made a note to pick up a burner phone later.

He went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked homeless, which he supposed he technically was. Snapping his fingers, his magic fixed his suit, straightened his hair, and gave him an all-around well-groomed appearance. He didn’t feel clean, magic never could replace a good shower, but it was enough for him to be inoffensive to others.

Rumple wasn’t sure what to do. He knew that Roland was probably afraid of him. The only time the boy had ever seen him was when he’d been threatening to kill him. Making a quick decision, Rumple left Robin a note and made his way to the roof. Hopefully, by the time they were home, Roland would be prepared to see him.

Looking out over the city, Rumple looked down and contemplated trying to jump one more time. Maybe in his weakened state it would work? Although, it would be cruel for Roland to see that. Rumple had too much respect for Robin to ever do that to his son. Besides, he knew it wouldn’t really kill him. It would just take longer for his body to heal. Nothing could kill him.

Except Harriet Potter.

He wondered if she would do him the favor of trying again? He had deduced that it had been twelve years since the battle at Hogwarts. She would be around thirty now. If she could take him out as a teenager, then an adult Harriet would likely find it much easier.

Rumple sighed in irritation. He knew asking would be selfish. There was no need to worry her about his presence. She need not know he was alive. Besides, she probably had a family now to think of. He couldn’t do that to her.

Rumple wondered what she would look like now. She had been a striking young woman, so it stood to reason that she would be a beautiful adult. He imagined she would be kind and brave and happy. He had no idea what she would look like in her happiness, he had only ever seen her afraid. Rumple looked down at the city below contemplating fate when he heard a voice hiss from behind him.

“Don’t. Even. Fucking. Think about it,” Rumple spun around. Only to be face to face with a very pissed off green eyed witch.

“Potter?” Rumple whispered, looking at her. His eyes devoured her in a single instant, noting the physical changes. Her eyes were sunken in, her hair was lank and wild, and she was skeletal in appearance. She was nothing like he had just imagined.

“What’s happened to you?” Rumple breathed as he stepped closer to her. His hand reached out to her in a half-hearted attempt to forge a connection.

She took a step back from him, flinching hard. That was when he noticed that her edges weren’t…real. She flickered in and out like the shadow in the corner of one’s eye. He put his hand down and sighed sadly.

“You’re not really here,” Rumple muttered while turning away from her.

He took a step closer to the edge, tempted to jump on principle.

“Please don’t!” Harriet shouted in panic, causing Rumple to look at her oddly, “I can’t take watching you kill yourself again.” She had her hands over her eyes, and he could tell she was trying to suppress a sob, “I just want to sleep.”

The last bit was said so quietly, so desperately, that Rumple stepped closer to her again. Before she even noticed him move, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Startled, Harriet took her hands from her eyes and looked Rumple full in the face.

Rumple was just as startled.

“You're real?” Rumple breathed, taking her other shoulder in his hands and squeezing gently.

Harriet nodded and asked, “Did you not think I was?” She was confused, but also surprised that she didn’t seem uncomfortable with him so close.

“I sometimes see things that aren’t there,” Rumple whispered, breathing in her scent of tea, soap, and booze.

Harriet said nothing. She just stared at the sadness in his eyes. Swallowing, she said, “I’ve been watching you harm yourself. It was like I was seeing through your eyes.” She bit her lip suddenly feeling as if she should take a step back, but not feeling anxious enough to do so, “For two months, I thought I was dreaming of hurting myself.”

Rumple made a distressed noise in his throat, “I didn’t know you were there. I would have blocked you out.”

“You never knew when I was around before,” Harriet said with a slight chuckle, “It makes sense you didn’t know now.”

Rumple sighed at that and pulled away from her. He turned his back on her and stared at the city. He was uncomfortably reminded of their relationship. To Harriet he was a villain.

“I’m sorry you’ve been brought into this,” Rumple replied quietly, “I’ve been trying to keep it from you. I never considered we would still have the connection.”

“I didn’t either,” Harriet replied, coming to stand next to him, careful not to touch him, “Quite frankly, I was rather convinced you were dead.” None of this felt real. It had a surreal quality to it that Harriet found was keeping her panic and fear at bay.

“I should have been,” Rumple replied bluntly. He said nothing more, but Harriet knew he wanted to, so she kept silent and stared at the unknown city before her. There was a weird, comfortable silence between them. One, that by rights, should not belong to them.

Finally, Rumple continued, “All I know, is that I was split in two. One half became Rumpelstiltskin, a regular man with no magic, and the other half became a monster so horrible that they had to tie it to a magical dagger to control it.”

Frowning, Harriet looked at Rumple, and said, “I’m going to need more information. That whole statement sounded like gibberish.”

Rumple chuckled darkly and looked at Harriet. Seeing pain and exhaustion in her face, he wondered if maybe she was too tired for this conversation.

Taking a deep breath, Rumple said, “You should go back and get some sleep, Potter. You're exhausted.”

“I need to know what is going on,” Harriet replied, wrapping her arms around herself, chilled by the night air, “I need to know why you’re not dead and why you're still in my head.” Harriet paused and then said in a small voice, “I don’t even know how I got here.”

Rumple reached out, slowly, and placed his hand on her shoulder. It was so boney, like there was no fat there at all.

“You’re not eating, “Rumple whispered, and Harriet looked at him. So much sadness in her eyes, “Did I do this to you? Did I cause this?”

Harriet opened her mouth to yell at him. To scream that it was all his fault and that if he had never been born, she wouldn’t be like this. Yet, while that was all true, it wasn’t all his fault either. The wizarding world wasn’t a kind place to those that didn’t conform. If not him, it would have been someone else. Maybe even her own parents.

She sobbed as tears began streaming down her face and went to pull away from Rumple. Instead, he began wiping her tears away, making gentle sounds to soothe her. His hands were gentle, and she found herself leaning into them. It had been so long since anyone had touched her in kindness. She hadn’t even realized she craved it.

Taking an unsteady breath, Rumpelstiltskin felt his stomach drop and twist. His heart constricted and for a second nothing moved or made a sound. It took a single moment for him to change his whole outlook on his life. He wanted to atone for what he had done. He thought by dying he could do that. Now, he realized there was a second option.

He could save the Chosen One.

“Not just you,” Harriet finally replied, leaning against his hand despite herself. She was desperate to feel some kind of friendly contact, “The wizarding world has really gone to shit after you left.”

“Died you mean,” Rumple corrected with a twisted smile, “You did kill me, Harriet.”

Harriet sucked in a breath at the use of her name. She liked the way his voice, with that odd Scottish lilt, pronounced it. It was both reverent and kind. It clashed oddly with the memories of the monster she remembered.

Pulling away Harriet took a step back and wrapped her arms around herself again. Her head hurt, she was tired and hungry, and so confused. Yet, she wasn’t afraid. Shouldn’t she be afraid?

“How are you like this?” Harriet whispered looking at Rumpelstiltskin. She wanted answers, but none of them made sense.

“Alive?” Rumple began but Harriet cut him off, “Kind.”

Rumple said nothing for a moment and then, in a hard voice, “I’m not a kind man. According to my wife, I’m a Beast.”

“Wife?” Harriet whispered, shocked. How did he have a wife?

“Yes. Wife,” Rumpelstiltskin growled with another twisted smile, “The Beauty to my Beast, as it were.”

“Like a fairy tale?” Harriet asked, biting her lip. None of this was making sense.

“Unfortunately,” Rumple replied as he looked at Harriet. She seemed to be trying to put everything together and he didn’t want her to. He wanted to take her downstairs and put her to bed. He wanted to make her eat something and forbid her to ask questions. He wanted to put his rusty homemaker skills to use and live in a bubble where he could be a good person and save her.

It was a stupid wish. He owed her every explanation he had. He owed her his very life for what he had done to her.

“I don’t understand,” Harriet said in a small voice, “The Beauty saved the Beast.”

His smile twisted even more, and he replied in a voice dripping in acid, “Not everything is a fairy tale, Potter. Even when it’s supposed to be.”

Harriet said nothing. That was the closest he had sounded to Lord Voldemort the entire conversation. For a split second, she had started to think that part of him was dead.

“Then maybe you should get a different fairy tale,” Harriet found herself saying. She had no idea why she was trying to reassure Lord Voldemort, but she felt more connected to him than she ever had. Maybe it was the isolation she felt from the wizarding world or the small kindness he showed her. She would never forget how he looked at her when he realized she was not a figment of his imagination, like she was a miracle.

Nobody had ever looked at her like that.

Rumpelstiltskin glared at her, but then his shoulders sagged, and he rubbed his palm across his face. In a broken voice he said, “Potter, I’m three hundred years old. I’m so tired of starting over.”

“Three hundred?” Harriet echoed, “But it’s only been twelve years since the battle at Hogwarts!”

“Not for me,” Rumpelstiltskin replied brokenly, “It was only two months ago I remembered being Lord Voldemort at all.”

Harriet gasped, “Seriously? How?” But then she felt herself become woozy. She took another step away from him and felt her head swim. She leaned against the rail that outlined the roof and heard a faint knocking. Her breathing became ragged.

Rumple took a step forward and reached out to steady her. Then suddenly she was gone, leaving Rumpelstiltskin with more questions than answers. Gripping the iron bars that lined the roof Rumple took deep breaths as he looked over the rail. Where had she gone?

For the second time that day, someone came up behind him catching him unawares.

“Mr. Gold,” Robin said, “Were you speaking with someone? I thought I heard a woman’s voice.”

“No dearie,” Rumple replied, turning to face him. He was unsure how he would explain everything to Robin and was unwilling to tell the truth about his alter ego, “It was only me and the wind.”

“Mr. Gold,” Robin began but Rumple cut him off. He looked at the thief and said, “You need to call Regina. I lost my phone, or I would have already.”

“What do I say?” Robin asked, pulling out the cell phone Regina had given him.

“The truth,” Rumple replied with a sad expression on his face, “You always tell the truth to the woman you love.”

Robin opened his mouth but thought better of it. He still didn’t know why Mr. Gold was in New York. Although it was obvious that something had gone terribly wrong in his life.

“Okay,” Robin replied. He turned to leave, then glanced at Mr. Gold. The other man had his eyes closed. A look of concentration on his face. When he opened them, Robin noticed they were reptilian, much as they had been in the Enchanted Forest.

Robin jerked his thumb at the door and asked, “Are you going to stay with us for a while?” Robin wasn’t even going to discuss the mysterious eye change; too tired to point it out. His nerves were strung taut and his heart was broken from Marion’s death. He hadn’t even told Roland about his mother yet.

Rumple smiled at Robin kindly and said, “That’s a nice invitation lad, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline. Give Regina my best.”

Then he was gone, leaving Robin alone with far too many questions.

London

Harriet bolted from the kitchen table. The kitchen chair fell backwards as Harriet shakily stood. Groggily she looked around and found herself back in her apartment, away from Lord Voldemort.

“Fuck!” Harriet yelled, pulling at her hair. He had been about to open up and explain the fucked-up nightmare she found herself in and she had woken up?

Shrieking in frustration, Harriet began to pace when she noticed the banging coming from her front door. The same banging from New York. Harriet frowned. Had she somehow used astral projection? Was that a thing? Growling, she wondered where Kreacher was as she yanked open the front door.

“What?” Harriet hissed only to be met with Severus Snape looking pale and shaken, “Severus?”

“He’s back,” Snape muttered as he pushed himself in. Harriet said nothing, confused as to how Snape could possibly have found out. She made sure to brush her hair in front of her scar. She could feel the pounding in her head, and she knew from experience it would make her scar hot and red.

“Whose back?” Harriet finally asked, trying to feign confusion.

Severus looked at her sharply and noticed the way she had rearranged her hair and tilted his head in question. Harriet just crossed her arms and said nothing. There was no way in hell she was going to explain things to Severus Snape. Not when she didn’t understand herself, but then the option was taken from her. Suddenly, blinding pain exploded from her scar. She yelled and clutched her head, falling to her knees.

“Potter!” Severus cried as he tried to catch her, but abruptly stopped when a man suddenly appeared between them. The sudden pain eased, and Harriet looked up to find that Lord Voldemort was standing between her and Severus.

“You!” Severus thundered, while raising his wand. Unconcerned Rumpelstiltskin made a motion with his hands causing Severus to stand unnaturally still. Nothing moved except his panicked and desperate eyes.

Harriet tried to stand but her legs were shaky. With her eyes trained on Rumpelstiltskin she said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Obviously,” Rumple drawled as he kneeled in front of her, his back turned unconcernedly away from Severus. Smirking he said, “But on the off chance you actually fell off the roof, I had to be sure.”

He then put his hand out and asked, “Do you need help to stand?”

Harriet looked at his hand and then her legs. Swallowing, she nodded and felt Rumpelstiltskin gently help her up and lead her to the kitchen table. Depositing her in a seat, he went directly to her kitchenette and started making tea.

“Where do you keep your tea bags?” Rumpelstiltskin muttered as he looked through the cabinets.

“Kreacher,” Harriet hollered, and a small elderly house elf popped into sight, right by her elbow. It occurred to her he must have been visiting Winky.

“Yes Mistress?” Kreacher asked, as he looked at her and then at Severus. Finally, he turned around and found himself face to face with Rumpelstiltskin.

“What are you doing, sir?” Kreacher asked, a bit aggressively.

“I’m trying to make tea dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, his whole-body tense at the sight of the house-elf. Then in an off-hand manner, his voice unnaturally high, he said, “You can move again, Severus.”

Whirling around, Severus kept Rumpelstiltskin in his line of sight. His wand at the ready.

“Kreacher will do that for you sir,” Kreacher croaked, aggressively taking a step forward. Rumpelstiltskin nodded and allowed Kreacher the kitchenette. Not that he could have stopped the elf.

Severus stared hard at Rumpelstiltskin as the other man reached toward Harriet and felt her forehead with the back of his hand, “Your feverish.”

Harriet said nothing at first, but then sighed in resignation and motioned for him to take a seat. Harriet rubbed her face trying to figure out what to say when Rumpelstiltskin snapped, “I’m not sure who you are trying to fool Severus. Sit down.”

Severus immediately sank into the chair in front of him, face impassive as he stared hard at Harriet and Rumpelstiltskin. Their familiarity was unnerving.

Silence descended. Nobody seemed to know what to say. What could be said? It was happening again, Lord Voldemort was back from the dead, the Dark Mark was once again revealed, and Harriet’s scar was causing more pain than before. History repeating itself, except Lord Voldemort didn’t seem…. insane. In fact, he was downright calm.

Realizing the silence needed to be broken, Harriet said, “My forehead always feels feverish when I find myself in your mind. I suppose it does the same thing when you shove yourself into mine.”

“I’m sorry,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, immediately looking chagrined, “I didn’t know where you had gone, and you looked to be in so much pain. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t expect Severus to be here.”

Harriet nodded and said, “He was warning me that you were back.”

“And how did he know that?” Rumpelstiltskin rumbled, looking at his former potions master curiously.

Wordlessly, Severus rolled his robes up to his elbow and showed them his Dark Mark. He saw no reason to conceal it from either one of them. It should be a warning to his former master that someone would know he was back. He hoped Harriet found it comforting that there would be warnings of the Dark Lord’s return.

“Well, that’s a problem,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered, glowering at the Dark Mark he had branded Severus with.

He quickly reached over and grabbed Severus’ wrist and brought it close to his face. Severus grunted in surprise at the snake-like reflexes of the dark wizard. He had to stand to be able to lean over the table more comfortably. Frowning, Rumpelstiltskin reached out his other hand and poked the Dark Mark.

Severus grunted in pain but said nothing. Rumpelstiltskin poked it again, and again Severus grunted.

“Stop it,” Harriet growled, putting her hand between Severus’ arm and Rumpelstiltskin’s finger, “You’ll bring all the Death Eaters in Azkaban here if you keep that up. Unless that’s your aim?”

Rumpelstiltskin just sighed in annoyance and let Severus have his arm back. Severus rubbed his arm begrudgingly, glaring at his former master. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t need an army of Death Eaters descending on him. He would hate to have to kill so many people right when he decided to turn over a new leaf.

“It’s the same tattoo,” Rumpelstiltskin cocked his head at Harriet and continued, “but I have no idea why it’s still there. After I died, it should have disappeared.”

“It did,” Severus growled, “And yet somehow it came back. Fresh, like when you first put it there.”

“Well, I didn’t do it,” Rumpelstiltskin said, motioning to himself with a flourish, “And I wasn’t doing anything particularly Lord Voldemort-like to even have it respond to my magic.”

All was quiet for a time, dwelling on the mystery, and then Kreacher put a teacup in front of Rumpelstiltskin. He gently picked the cup up to take a sip, but stopped abruptly. Carefully, he put the teacup back and sighed.

“You're bad at poisoning people Kreacher,” Rumple looked at the house elf who was standing close to Harriet, arms crossed defiantly.

“You will not hurt my Mistress,” Kreacher growled, “Dark Lord.”

Rumpelstiltskin pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance and muttered, “I should have stayed in New York.”

“Why didn’t you?” Harriet asked, placing her hand on Kreacher’s shoulder to make sure he would stand down. She didn’t need Kreacher hurt. He was the only friend she had.

Rumple said nothing for a moment. He just looked at Harriet with an unreadable expression. Finally, he crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair and replied, “Like I said before. I wanted to check on you.”

“Why?” Harriet pressed, “You have tried to kill me numerous times, succeeded once, and yet you expect me to believe you were worried?”

“I’m a difficult man to understand,” Rumpelstiltskin replied with another flourish of his hand and a slight high-pitched giggle that even seemed to surprise Rumpelstiltskin.

“Stop being so damn cryptic!” Harriet shouted standing up. Rumpelstiltskin just watched as she pushed away from the table to pace. Kreacher still stood between them and Severus barely blinked. Both seemed ready to pounce should he move.

He cocked his head to the side as he watched Harriet, his face unreadable. Inside, he was in turmoil. He never wanted her to know about his return. Never wanted to inconvenience her and cause distress. Yet, here he was doing both.

Why were all of his good intentions always thrown back in his face?

For that matter, why was he reverting back to his Enchanted Forest Dark One persona? The more uncomfortable he became, the more he relied on it. It occurred to Rumpelstiltskin that even as Lord Voldemort he relied on different personalities to keep everyone around him off guard. It was not a flattering realization.

Severus was sitting motionless trying hard not to panic. The Dark Lord was back! Sitting in his worst enemy’s kitchen, at ease. What did that mean? It also didn’t help that Potter was being aggressive and antagonistic. Or that Kreacher had just tried to poison him or that Severus had just tried to attack him. It also didn’t help that the Dark Lord seemed to be more powerful than ever before.

He didn’t care for it.

All he had was his ability to spy, and so Severus sat back and watched his former master. Hoping and waiting for an opportunity to save himself and Potter.

Harriet paced, frustration, hunger, and lack of sleep making her woozy. She just wanted everything to slow down and stop moving at a breakneck pace. Nothing made sense and she was so tired. Most importantly, she was very confused.

Why was HE here? She just couldn’t understand it. He said he was concerned, he acted like he was concerned, yet she could not find a conceivable reason why he would actually be concerned.

She turned and abruptly collided with Rumpelstiltskin. Their eyes locked and she felt his hands reach out to steady her. Staring into his eyes made Harriet feel like she was standing still on an escalator. They pulled her forward, drowning her in warm amber tinted chocolate. His concern, pain, confusion, and anxiety were all there for her to see. His hands, while strong, were gentle. She took in his charcoal suit and his blue and black striped tie. He looked every bit like a legitimate businessman and nothing like the mad Slytherin that still haunted her nightmares.

His hands tightened around her shoulders. In that Scottish lilt of his, that was so different from his voice as Lord Voldemort, he said softly, “Please calm down. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m already sick,” Harriet whispered, leaning against his hands, looking at the floor, “I don’t eat, I don’t sleep….” Harriet sobbed and felt her knees grow weak. She was about to admit her greatest weakness to her greatest enemy. Yet she needed someone to hear her for once. Nobody else would listen. She just needed one person to understand.

Still, Harriet couldn’t get it out. Her confession was stuck in her throat and all Harriet could do was cry as her knees buckled. She felt Rumple’s hands move from her shoulders to her elbow and waist. She felt herself being brought forward and then his arms were around her and her nose was in the crook of his neck. His chin was on top of her head and he was running his fingers through her hair in an act of comfort.

“Hush lass,” Rumpelstiltskin whispered in her ear, “You’re having a panic attack. Just listen to my voice and breathe in and out. Slowly.”

Harriet did as he bid. She found his hands in her hair calming. His scent filled her nose and the mixture of sweat and his natural musk caused her to feel drowsy. Her breathing started to steady as she listened to Rumpelstiltskin speak.

“Once Upon a Time, in a not so faraway London, a young boy lived in a molding orphanage. He had nothing to love or care for and that made him selfish and unkind. He was different from the other children, always whispering to snakes, and the children began to fear him.”

Harriet held her breath as he continued to speak, “But then, one Spring Day, there came a professor to the orphanage and told him that he was a wizard. That he had a place in the world and that he would soon go to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but the boy showed no emotion to the older man. Only grim satisfaction that he would no longer have to spend his whole life in that awful orphanage. It scared the professor, and he had every right to be scared, because the boy had no love in his heart.”

Harriet’s breathing returned to normal prompting Rumple to gently push her back and look at her. His face haunted, he continued, “The boy grew into a young man, killing and splitting his soul into various pieces, never imagining that his sanity would go with it. Never questioning the idiotic pureblood supremacy that being housed in Slytherin had instilled in him. He became less and less human and more and more a monster. Until one night a misguided youth told him a prophecy, and he committed the ultimate sin; killing a child.”

Rumpelstiltskin turned away from Harriet, his hands behind his back. Taking a breath to steady himself, he then turned back and asked,” You’ve calmed down?”

Harriet nodded, not saying a word. He had told her a story, his story, but he had not finished it. Would he? Would she finally understand the monster Lord Voldemort was (is?). For better or worse, his tenderness touched her deeply. However, when she noticed that Severus was still sitting at the table and Kreacher was still standing in the same spot she realized what he had done.

“Did you freeze them again?” Harriet asked exasperated and Rumpelstiltskin waved his hand in front of his face

“It’s easier, and they weren’t paying attention to you. Someone had to help you through the panic attack.”

“And you elected yourself?” Harriet asked, trying hard to understand the inscrutable man before her. One moment he was helping and kind and the next he was cursing people.

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “because I know what panic attacks are. I have them often.”

“The great Lord Voldemort has panic attacks?” Harriet asked sarcastically, throwing her hands up. Rumpelstiltskin winced.

“No,” he said, looking away from her, “but Rumpelstiltskin does.”

“Do you really expect me to believe there’s a difference?” Harriet snipped. She was angry at him for being so complicated, for starting stories only to stop abruptly in the middle. For giving her headaches and sleepless nights. Mostly she was angry that she allowed him to comfort her not once, but twice now.

Was she so desperate for a human connection she would crave it even from Lord Voldemort?

Rumpelstiltskin said nothing for a time. He just stood there, clenching and unclenching his hands, glaring at Harriet. Harriet defiantly glared back and crossed her arms. Finally, Rumpelstiltskin threw his hands up in the air and said, “I don’t expect you to understand dearie. It’s hard to understand even for me. But trust and believe I am very different from the monster you knew.”

“Name one difference,” Harriet snapped and took an aggressive step in his direction. She had her hands clenched now. She felt her magic, usually slow to respond to her anger, tingle in her finger tips. She needed her wand, but it was in her bedroom. Which was not a good thing when Lord Voldemort was in your apartment.

“I can laugh,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, quietly trying to get her to understand, “I whistle when I tinker in my pawnshop. I have a fondness for American French Fries and ketchup and I own far too many Armani suits. I usually carry a cell phone so my grandson can call me; even when I know he never will.” Rumple swallowed trying to keep the tears away. He noticed that Harriet had stopped advancing and that her aggression was lessening. She was listening, “I had a son that I loved beyond all reason. That I became a Beast for. When he was young, I became a Storyteller to help feed him.

He took a step toward Harriet and said, “I’ve loved and lost and cried and screamed. It’s true that I’ve hurt others. That I’ve killed and tortured and manipulated, but I never lost my ability to love.”

Tears began to stain Rumple’s face, but he let them. He hated Severus seeing him this way, but Harriet deserved to know. There were few people he would humiliate himself for, but Harriet was one of them just by virtue of what he had done to her.

“Lord Voldemort knew nothing of that,” Rumple said, “Even as a boy he couldn’t feel anything but rage.” He shrugged, “I don’t know if he was always like that or if the orphanage made him like that. It wasn’t a kind place for children.” He took a deep breath and admitted something he’d just now realized, “I’ve lived more in my time as Rumpelstiltskin Gold than I ever did as Tom Riddle.”

Harriet said nothing as she looked at the man before her. The tears were trailing down his face and he looked so heart broken. So sick to his very soul when speaking of Lord Voldemort.

“Was that why you tried to kill yourself so many times?” Harriet quietly asked, “Because you feel guilty?”

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin breathed, she was finally starting to understand, “I have done many horrible things as the Dark One, but nothing ever so evil as my time as Lord Voldemort. Yet, I seemed to achieve what I wanted in the end. I cannot die.”

He ran his hands through his hair, and Harriet noticed that he had long brown hair. It was startling to her that she kept noticing Rumpelstiltskin’s details in halts and starts. As if her subconscious was resisting knowing more about him to protect herself.

“I held villains like Lord Voldemort in contempt as the Dark One,” Rumpelstiltskin laughed, but it held no mirth, only self-condemnation, “It’s amazing how ashamed a person can be of themselves. I thought I knew all about that, but when my memories came back…. well…. I was very wrong.”

“I’m a drunk,” Harriet blurted out with a twisted smile. He looked surprised and startled, “And I starve myself because I feel so guilty that I turned out this way. That I disappointed everyone that looked up to me.” Tears trailed down her face and she said, “I tried to kill myself once. So, I understand being disappointed in yourself.”

She brushed her tears away and made a decision. Why she made it or how she thought it was a good idea she didn’t know, but she made it all the same. Maybe it was intuition.

“Not the same dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he watched Harriet slowly approach him, “You hurt yourself because traumatic things happened to you. I killed people and tried to take over magical Britain for no better reason than because I wanted to.”

“Guilt is guilt,” Harriet smiled sadly, “And I hurt the people around me. I traumatized those that loved me and I pushed people away. Good people.”

Rumpelstiltskin said nothing to that. There was nothing to say. She was right. Guilt was guilt. Either way, if you let it, it would make you eat yourself alive. He had given into the guilt and was saved by his immortality.

Harriet had nobody or nothing to save her, and it looked like the guilt was winning.

She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “I don’t pretend to understand everything,” Harriet began, “There is so much you still need to explain to me but….” She trailed off and looked him in the eye again, in parselmouth she said, “But I understand what you’re trying to say.”

Rumple nodded as Harriet took her hand away and turned toward the table. Again, in parselmouth she said “Please unfreeze them.” Her tone was gentle but Rumple knew there was no room to argue.

With a snap of his fingers Kreacher and Severus began to move. Severus stood again with his wand out and Kreacher was crouched beside Harriet, ready for trouble.

“Now Kreacher,” Harriet began with an abruptness that caused Rumple to reel slightly, “Please put supper on. I’m famished.” She smiled at the house elf, “And please don’t poison Mr. Gold again. He’s our guest.”

“Yes Mistress,” Kreacher croaked, as he scuttled to the kitchenette. Harriet looked at Snape and said, “You’re welcome to stay for supper Severus.”

“Stay for supper?” Severus thundered in his silky voice, “Guest? Potter, have you lost what is left of your alcohol-addled mind?”

Harriet’s voice turned dark and ugly at the mention of her drinking, “You could just say no Severus. You don’t have to get ugly about it.”

“Potter, the Dark Lord is standing in your kitchen; the murderer of your parents and half of magical Britain, and you just expect us to break bread with him!” Severus looked at Harriet like she had gone mad, and maybe she had. Nothing seemed real.

“Didn’t you hear a word he just said?” Harriet asked. There was a buzzing in her ears. Severus Snape was a frustrating man on a good day. Add scared into the mix and he was downright unbearable. She looked at Rumpelstiltskin and tilted her head in Severus' direction.

Rumpelstiltskin was surprised when he heard a faint feminine voice in his mind say, “Could you Obliviate him for me?”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t even nod. One second, he was standing behind his chair the next he was beside Severus. Before he could move, Rumple had reached out and placed his index finger to Severus’ forehead.

“Obliviate,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered, and Severus stumbled. For good measure Rumple cursed Severus to sleep, “Dornröschen.”

Severus began to fall but Rumpelstiltskin guided him slowly to the floor, being careful not to hurt the other man. While Severus annoyed him, he acknowledged that the younger man had many grievances against him. He felt genuinely bad that he had to obliviate him.

“Is there any way you can take off the Dark Mark,” Harriet asked as she knelt beside Severus, rolling up his sleeve once again to show off the mark, “And thereby destroying the rest?”

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin said, taking Severus’ arm gently in his hand, “I do believe that is possible.”

He placed his hand on the Dark Mark and muttered words under his breath. The mark felt hot under his hand, and he knew if Severus was awake, he would be screaming. As it were, he was whimpering in his sleep, clearly uncomfortable even in slumber.

Then it was over, and Rumple took his hand away. Severus’ arm was clear; no mark to be found. Harriet rolled the sleeve down and looked at Kreacher who had come to stand next to them. He curiously looked between Rumple and Harriet and then down at the potions master.

“Kreacher take him home,” Harriet commanded. She then took the elf’s hand in her own and squeezed it affectionately, “I’m also commanding you not to tell a single soul, magical or non-magical, about any of this. From now on, the subject of Rumpelstiltskin and Lord Voldemort is to be kept between the three of us. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mistress,” Kreacher whimpered. Harriet didn’t command him often.

“I mean it Kreacher,” Harriet continued, “You figure out a way around my commands and I will have to find you a new family.”

Kreacher whimpered and said, “No Mistress! Kreacher wants to stay with you!”

“Then do as I ask,” Harriet commanded with a sad smile and a kiss to his cheek. She used to hate the older elf. However, with time, care, and attention she soon realized she couldn’t possibly do without him. He was her friend and only companion.

“Yes Mistress,” Kreacher croaked. He knew she meant business this time and he would not fail her. He snapped his fingers and disappeared with Severus. Rumple and Harriet were quiet. Neither getting to their feet, both were content to sit quietly. Finally, Rumple said, “You have done wonders with him. The last time I encountered him, he was rather demented.”

“You, remember Kreacher?” Harriet asked, surprised that he would even pay attention to house elves.

“I may have been an insane egomaniac,” Rumpelstiltskin replied with a self-deprecating smile, “But I wasn’t stupid. I knew house elves could be a problem and I made sure to know which of my followers had one. Kreacher was easy to remember because Walburga Black was absolutely insane, and the poor thing worshiped her.”

He stood and held his hand out for her. Harriet ignored it and stood on her own. Rumple found her yoyoing emotions hard to follow. She alternated between being comfortable with him and skittish. It was like her mind was waging war on itself.

Not that he blamed her. She had just thrown her lot in with the Dark One.

“Do you think anyone would have noticed the Mark?” Harriet asked, fretting.

“Most likely,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, “How many Death Eaters still remain at large?”

“None,” Harriet replied, her voice once again hard and ugly, “We made sure of that. Severus and Draco Malfoy were the only Death Eaters given a pardon.”

“Would Malfoy say something?” Rumple asked, his head cocked.

“Possibly?” Harriet said quietly, questioningly, “But he doesn’t really involve himself in the magical world anymore. The last I heard, he had fallen in love with an American muggle and was living his life there.”

Harriet cocked her head and evaluated Rumpelstiltskin. There was something about him, an aura, that drew her in. She didn’t understand it. Maybe it was their mental connection or maybe it was something else. All she knew was that it alternatively made her feel anxious and safe.

“I don’t have to stay for dinner,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he watched her stand, “In fact, I’ll leave you alone. I promise you that dearie.”

Harriet shook her head and was just about to check on the food when Kreacher reappeared in the kitchenette and continued supper as if he had not been interrupted. Shuffling her feet, she looked at Rumpelstiltskin who stood awkwardly by Severus’s vacated chair.

“If I’d wanted you to leave, I wouldn’t have asked you to obliviate Severus,” Harriet replied. She felt tired, “Besides, I want to sleep, and I don’t trust you to stay out of trouble.”

“You can’t make me stay where I don’t want to, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, bristling, “I will not be controlled, ever again.”

Harriet could tell there was more to that statement, but she chose to ignore it for now.

“I’m not asking to control you,” Harriet replied with a sniff, “I’m simply asking you to stay here and don’t do anything stupid for at least one night so I can sleep.”

“And then?” Rumpelstiltskin asked testily, “Because one night’s sleep isn’t going to help you.”

“And then we figure out how to separate our minds for good,” Harriet replied with grim determination, “Because if you think I’m going to stay connected to an immortal Dark Lord for the rest of my life, you really are crazy.”

“Dark One dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin corrected. He retook his seat across from her, “Fine. I'll stay the night with you.”

“Thank you,” Harriet replied with a faint smile as Kreacher wordlessly placed their food in front of them. Rumpelstiltskin faintly smiled back and they both began eating.

Kreacher stared glumly between the two, hoping with all his might that his Mistress would remain strong and uncorrupted despite the dark wizard’s presence.