Come What May

“Please,” Riddle bowed his head even further, until his unkempt hair was brushing the floor, “Please accept your Right of Conquest over me.” It was obvious he was only barely holding back his anger, hatred, and whatever else, but made no move to take back his words.

Harry looked down coldly, leaning back in his chair. “You know, if I agree to this, you’ve got a lot to make up for, and I’ll make sure you pay for every single bit of it.”

Riddle’s jaw clenched even tighter, answering through gritting teeth. “I know.”

“Well, in that case,” Harry leaned forward, grabbing a tight handful of Riddle’s hair and pulling his head up until he was forced to look into vibrant green eyes, the same shade of the killing curse. “How could I possibly refuse?”

. . . . .

“Mr. Potter, may we come in?” Two aurors, one male with short brown hair and a scar on his left cheek, and a woman with dark brown hair and a stern glare in her eyes, stood in Harry’s doorway.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to even notice the question had been asked, because his attention had been on the man standing behind the aurors, his arms bound tightly behind his back and a collar with a leash attached, the other end in the female auror’s deathgrip.

What in the world was Tom Riddle doing at his house???? His extremely warded, hidden, protected house???

Riddle had somehow gotten his good looks back since the final battle, where Harry had accidentally knocked Voldemort unconscious during their duel and decided that he’d rather not kill anyone else, even Voldemort. His hair was jet black, the same shade as Harry’s, and curled at the edges, just as it had been when Harry had seen the diary. He was perhaps in his late teens or early twenties at best, looking that much more mature than the diary had with age.

During his staring, Riddle had frowned and lifted his eyes, meeting Harry’s vivid green with blood red, only to clench his jaw even harder and look away, staring holes in the ground.

“Mr. Potter?” The male auror prompted again when there was a lack of answer.

Harry shook himself out of his stupor, instead deciding to try and focus on the issue at hand. Surely the aurors will bring up why exactly Tom Riddle has been brought to his house in chains. Surely they will.

“Uh, sure, yeah, come on in.” He moved to the side to allow the aurors (and Riddle) access to his doorway.

They settled in the living room, Harry on his comfy armchair and the aurors on a larger couch on the other side of a small table to him. Riddle, however, didn’t even try to sit on one of the many pieces of furniture in the room, instead choosing to kneel at the end of the table, an equal space from both the aurors and Harry, without a single bit of prompting from the aurors.

Harry tried to control his staring, instead focusing on the aurors and pretending that Riddle was nothing more than a figment of his imagination for the moment.

“So, what brought this surprise visit on?” Harry asked, as if the reason wasn’t sitting—kneeling—next to them.

“We’re sorry to interrupt your afternoon, Mr. Potter. My name is Auror Kennedy, and this is my partner, Auror Powlett. As you can probably guess, we’re here on official Ministry business,” The male Auror started.

The female, Auror Powlett, spoke up, “Do you recognize this prisoner, by any chance?” She tugged on the leash in her hand, causing Riddle to jerk and choke on the collar around his neck, but he otherwise kept his neutral face and continued staring at the coffee table resolutely.

Harry assumed she was asking if he knew who he really was, and honestly didn’t really know how to respond to that. He watched the scene with horrified fascination. It was.. strange, seeing Riddle on his knees, being pushed around. The words felt thick for some reason,as if stuck in his throat, but he forced them out. “I do.”

“Great, that makes things a lot simpler.” She replied, confirming Harry’s suspicions with a hard-as-steel voice. Harry got the idea that she had a very stern personality and didn’t like to mess around much. Even Auror Kennedy seemed a bit intimidated by her, but looked like he was used to it.

Harry was somehow again grateful he hadn’t decided to become an auror straight after the war, instead taking the time to try and choose a job he’d actually want.

“... Makes what simpler?” Harry asked, almost afraid of the answer, and yet.. He could take a guess, and not just based on the current situation.

Auror Kennedy watched Riddle for a few seconds, before making eye contact with Harry. “The prisoner- He’s enacted the Right of Conquest with you. There’s not much we can do about the situation until you decide to accept it or give him back to the Ministry to continue his sentence there.”

“A Right of Conquest? Riddle did?” Harry had no clue what that meant specifically, but it wasn’t hard to reach a conclusion, especially seeing as Riddle was on his knees in a collar with no argument.

“Sure did. Not sure what he was thinking- Right of Conquests are permanent and could end up much worse than just carrying out his sentence, but I’m not complaining.” Auror Powlett shrugged. “Either way, he’s not much of a threat anymore—not without his magic, and definitely not with the binding.”

Harry nodded along, pretending he knew exactly what the aurors were talking about, all while silently thanking the man for the details he was apparently already supposed to know. He couldn’t make any sort of decision that the aurors seemed to expect of him until he knew exactly what he was getting into. “I appreciate you taking your time to explain the circumstances to me.”

“It was no trouble at all, Mr. Potter. Just doing our jobs,” Auror Kennedy replied.

“I know this is kind of strange to ask, but..” Harry started, pausing to look as if he were in thought, or perhaps even hesitant, “Would you mind giving me a few minutes alone with him? You know, so I know exactly what to expect if I accept or not?”

Auror Powlett handed the leash over easily, until Harry was holding onto the other end of the chain. “Of course, Mr. Potter. Take your time, and..” She paused, taking on a bit of a malicious smile—one of the first emotions he’s actually seen from her since she’s arrived. “Don’t hold back.”

Harry had a feeling he knew what she meant by that, and did not like it one bit. (especially since he’s been on the other end-)He continued playing his part though, knowing that would be the easiest way to get this situation under control and fastest way to get through it, hopefully.

He tugged lightly on the leash, watching Riddle scramble to get up to follow him as Harry led them through the house, far enough away where the aurors won’t be able to hear much of anything, even if they did somehow take down Harry’s wards. Eventually, they ended up in Harry’s study, the room he used for doing  paperwork and keeping private conversations private.

Shutting the door behind them and locking it with magic, then casting several layers of silencing spells, Harry finally dropped the leash and sat down in his chair. He faced towards Riddle, who had assumed a kneeling position on the floor in front of Harry and was glaring holes in the ground under Harry’s feet. 

“So, Riddle,” Harry crossed his leg, looking down on the man on the floor. “What. Did. You. Do.”

Riddle’s teeth clenched together and he flexed his fingers, still bound together tightly behind his back. For a little while, there was only silence, but eventually Riddle answered in a soft tone, a direct contrast to how Harry imagined he was actually feeling. “Like the aurors said, I enacted the Right of Conquest you have over me.”

Ah, so everyone was expecting that he knew what that was. “And what exactly does that mean?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It means- You do not know? Truly?” Riddle started, then paused as he realised the meaning of Harry’s words, meeting Harry’s eyes once again. His tone was of genuine surprise, which was the only reason Harry didn’t think this was some sort of manipulation right off the bat.

“Not a single thing. Now, explain,” Harry demanded.

Riddle resumed his explanation, casting his gaze elsewhere, “The Right of Conquest- You.. In every duel we have had, you have bested me, one way or another, even to the point of death. The Right of Conquest recognizes that fact, which allows for me to enact it, binding myself irreversibly to you.”

“To me how?”

“The..  relationship can be compared to slavery, in a manner of speaking. You would have full control over my magic, my mind—my entire being, so to speak. You could.. enforce your will upon me, make sure that I have no choice but to obey. I would legally be your property, and yours alone, to do what you please with.” Riddle explained, regaining some anger in his eyes, but Harry mostly just thought he looked.. tired. 

In Harry’s opinion, he truly didn’t believe this was some sort of manipulation from Riddle. The man looked too exhausted, both mentally and physically, not to mention covered in bruises and much too thin to be healthy. Along with the fact Riddle was willingly on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, a collar attached to his neck, and had apparently enacted a slave bond with Harry.

However, that didn’t mean Harry couldn’t test him. Perhaps Riddle’s intentions are truthful, that he actually enacted the Right of Conquest knowing what could possibly happen, but.. Perhaps he’s only under the illusion that Harry would accept and have too high of morals to actually treat him badly—is only using Harry as a way to get out of his sentence, because he believes Harry wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t treat him slave-like, and he could regain control through manipulations and whatnot.

And Harry would not let that happen.

“Are you trying to tell me that you enacted a slave bond with me?” Honestly, it was kind of hard to believe that Voldemort would ever bow down to his mortal nemesis of his own choice. “The big bad Dark Lord willingly acting like a good little slave to Harry Potter?”

Riddle didn’t answer, jaw clenched together so tight it was a wonder Harry couldn’t hear his teeth grinding.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I’m really convinced,” Harry drawled on in a mocking tone. “Perhaps you can find a way to convince me? I mean, you’re already on your knees, might as well beg while you’re down there.”

If there was ever a time that Riddle would snap, it would probably be now, Harry mused. And yet-

“Please,” Riddle bowed his head even further, until his unkempt hair was brushing the floor, “Please accept your Right of Conquest over me.” It was obvious he was only barely holding back his anger, hatred, and whatever else, but made no move to take back his words.

Harry looked down coldly, leaning back in his chair. “You know, if I agree to this, you’ve got a lot to make up for, and I’ll make sure you pay for every single bit of it.”

Riddle’s jaw clenched even tighter, answering through gritting teeth. “I know.”

“Well, in that case,” Harry leaned forward, grabbing a tight handful of Riddle’s hair and pulling his head up until he was forced to look into vibrant green eyes, the same shade as the killing curse. “How could I possibly refuse?”

So, Harry was officially impressed. If Riddle could keep his anger in check after Harry had demanded he begged to be made a slave, then he must truly mean it. Must honestly want this bond for some reason, for Harry to accept the Right of Conquest over him, even if it meant Harry would hurt him for everything that happened while he was Voldemort.

Harry released his grasp on Riddle’s hair, who immediately slumped forward and didn’t bother looking up again.

“I will be asking you a lot more questions later, but for now.. I will only ask this,” Harry began, trying to push down the headache he could feel coming. “Why me? Why do any of this?”

There was silence for a long time. During this time, Riddle didn’t look up from his spot on the floor, and it seemed that the rest of his anger had all faded into nothing but tired acceptance.

“It’s.. always been us. It’s always been Voldemort against Harry Potter—the Dark Lord and the Boy-Who-Lived.  One way or another, whether through choice or fate, we were always brought together, again and again and again,” Riddle voiced. “I just.. thought I’d continue the pattern.”

Harry stared for a moment, the room in perfect silence. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Riddle’s thought process to look like, but it sure wasn’t that.

Just as Harry is about to talk, to move the conversation on from it’s uncomfortable stop, Riddle speaks once more, his voice nothing more than a whisper almost too quiet for Harry to hear.

“If anyone deserves me kneeling at their feet, it would be you.”

Oh.

So that’s why Riddle didn’t seem to care how bad Harry would supposedly treat him. At least, being bound to Harry, Riddle would know that he deserved it. No trying to guess what he did wrong this time at the hands of the Ministry; with Harry, it wouldn’t even matter. At least he’d know why he was being punished.

There was no possible way Harry could refuse the bond after learning that (not that he was going to).

Instead of accepting that as it was, though, Harry only raised an eyebrow, looking unamused and sounding distant. “You really think I believe that?”

“.. what?” It came out in a tiny whisper, like Riddle hadn’t meant for the word to slip out. He flexed his hands for a second, before they tightened into fists, while he even dared to meet Harry’s eyes in genuine confusion.

“You’re doing this to, oh, I don’t know..” Harry mockingly pretended to think. “Spite the Ministry? They tried to force you to your knees, so you’re going to spite them by issuing the bond and then kneeling “willingly” to your enemy. I know how this goes—you pretend to be all submissive while they’re here, just to act up afterwards, now that you’re with someone who doesn’t know what they’re getting into. Maybe not at first, but eventually you’ll get comfortable with your apparent safety and then you’ll try to test limits, try to find the loopholes to every word. You’ll try to spite the Ministry by escaping from their regulations and rules without them even knowing, which happens to be under my rule. You can’t fool me by acting innocent. Not you.”

Harry knows how that tune goes far too well, having danced to it his whole life with people none the wiser.

Riddle tried to deny the claim, gaining a panicked edge to his voice that Harry noted carefully. “No- I’m not this because of spite!- I will not act out-”

“Oh? What are you doing right now?” Harry interrupted, cutting Riddle’s tangent off before it’d even really started.

Riddle’s mouth snapped shut. He immediately looked down, hands shaking behind his back.

Harry sighed, ignoring the flinch when he pat Riddle’s hair twice. “Luckily for you, it takes a lot more than spite for the Ministry and a couple loud words to upset me. But, I want to know if there’s any truth to my statement. What’s your real reason for calling upon the bond?”

Riddle shut his eyes, taking a couple deep—shaky—breaths. “.. I- I truly do mean that I called upon the bond because.. of who we are, and what I’ve done.”

‘Ah, that’d be the guilt,’ Harry thought before he could stop himself. At least he didn’t say it out loud; that would be a recipe for disaster, especially right now.

“But.. I- You may have been correct in your guess if- if only partially. I- There’s nothing I want more than to pay the Ministry back for what they’ve done, and.. This felt like a compromise that they couldn’t ignore. One of the only choices that I could still make that would have an impact—something they couldn’t take away,” Riddle admitted.

That felt like a much more honest answer than his previous answer, and Harry accepted it with a nod.

“Well, now for the fun part,” Harry grinned, though it faltered. Now he has to convince the Aurors that he’s accepting the bond and that Riddle belongs to him, though he somehow doubted that was the answer they were hoping for. With the bond in place—Riddle’s magic and will bound—, Harry bet that they would have had a blast trying to turn Riddle into a slave for themselves. They were probably hoping that the golden boy-who-lived would be too morally upright to ever accept a slave, when he could have easily just left it in the capable Ministry’s hand to finish his life-long sentence.

Too bad Harry isn’t as against slavery as they thought.

Below him, Riddle paled.

“As you wish,” he murmured, his voice barely even audible and eyes squeezed closed for a second. And then Harry watched him shuffle closer and start trying to unzip Harry’s pants with nothing but his mouth, as his trembling hands were still bound behind his back.

It took Harry an embarrassingly long time to realize what Riddle was trying to do, and the second it clicked, he shoved the kneeling man off with more force than was probably necessary and brought his knees up to his chest. Harry was pretty sure he looked absolutely horrified, but nothing compared to the look Riddle had.

He looked like he’d been slapped, until what happened comprehended in his mind. Riddle turned as white as a sheet, and the trembling was now going through his whole body. He refused to meet Harry’s eyes, instead looking at the ground in front of him. “Sorry- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be disgusted by me—I’d just assumed.. I should have known-”

“Woah, woah, stop stop stop.” Harry cut Riddle off before things got even worse. Riddle snapped his jaw shut immediately. “You said you’d ‘just assumed’, meaning you have experience with people wanting that,” Harry deduced, squinting at the kneeling man.

Riddle immediately denied it. “No, I- There’s no experience. I’ve not had any problems with.. That. I apologize for assuming-”

Harry doubted that was the case, but didn’t call Riddle out on his lies. Not for the moment, at least, when they had much different things to worry about.

“By ‘fun’, I’d meant getting to convince the Ministry to let me keep you. I can already tell that it’s going to be a pain, because now that you’ve enacted the bond, it just became so much easier to control you,” Harry sighed. “And we both know the Ministry would love nothing more than having a way to have you completely  under their control.”

“.. I would not break easily for them. My loyalty is to you, and you alone.”

If it weren’t Tom Riddle saying that while on his knees and trying to convince (manipulate) Harry into accepting a slave bond, Harry would feel oddly touched.

Oh, who’s he kidding. Harry is absolutely somehow touched by that.

“But eventually, you would. They would not relent in their pursuit, and you’re their least favorite person in existence. Other than me, of course, but only every other week. You know, when the tabloids need new material to post and decide that I’ve both married and divorced Neville within the same week,” Harry shrugged. “But back to the point—I need you to play your part, and that probably means that I’ve been doing more than just talking to you in here. We can discuss actual rules and whatnot later, but for now, I’ll leave you to do your thing. Can I trust you with that?”

“I will- I will act my part. I know my place, you do not need to worry,” Riddle answered.

Harry didn’t like how all the fight had seemed to leave Riddle. Sure, he doesn’t want to deal with another megalomaniac Dark Lord trying to murder literally everyone he knows again, but.. It was strange, seeing someone he’d thought of as an unwavering strength just.. on his knees, accepting all this.

Voldemort had always been Harry’s constant in life, since even before he’d been born. And now, Voldemort was no more, replaced by a Tom Riddle who would rather bend to Harry’s will than keep his anger and powerful stance in life.

Of course, Riddle would have been broken by the Ministry eventually—it was inevitable, and Riddle had probably noticed that, and used it as a deciding factor for choosing to enact the bond. But.. It wouldn’t have been for years, Harry would think. Riddle’s mind had always been his strongest asset (though the same couldn’t be said for Voldemort) and Harry thought it would have taken much more than a few bruises to drive him to the point of calling upon a slave bond with Harry Potter.

It was just.. strange to think about. Worrisome, even. What is Tom Riddle, Voldemort, without some plan for the world—without his goals and ambitions in life that had made him so terrifying.

Surely Riddle must still have a goal to reach, but Harry was not going to figure it out any time soon. They’ll both play their parts—of slave and master—and figure out things as they go along.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, finally standing up from the chair. He grabbed the end of the leash, more for show than leading Riddle somewhere. “Well, here we go.”

Riddle didn’t respond, keeping his eyes downcast the entire walk back into the room with the aurors. How long had they been gone..? It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, maybe twenty at most.

Sure enough, the aurors were both sitting on the couch, chatting quietly between themselves. When they saw Harry, it quieted to a stop, watching with curiosity as he brought Riddle back, looking no different from when they had left.

This time, though, when Harry sat back down in his armchair, Riddle chose to kneel by his feet instead of an equal distance away from both the aurors and Harry. Deciding to throw himself into his role as an ex-dark-lord-turned-slave’s master, Harry slowly combed his fingers through Riddle’s hair, noticing with some interest that Riddle leaned into the touch, and that his hair was extraordinarily soft. Harry could get used to this-

“How did you like the experience, Mr. Potter? Was it to your satisfaction?” Auror Kennedy asked.

“Oh, yes. I had a lot of fun myself,” Harry replied with a smile, and that part wasn’t even a lie. He did have fun making Riddle beg.

“You got lucky there, Mr. Potter. Johnson almost got his dick bit off last time he tried,” Auror Powlett said, as if there weren’t multiple things wrong with that sentence.

Harry had known that Riddle was lying about not having trouble with that, but he hadn’t expected the aurors to outright say it. Being caught in his lie from earlier, Riddle had tensed, but Harry never stopped petting Riddle’s hair. He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep up the act. It would all be over soon.

“We didn’t have any problems like that, did we, pet?”

Calling Voldemort “pet” has to be on Harry’s top three most weird situations, but if the situation calls for it-

“No, Master,” Riddle whispered, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Harry almost had to do a double-take, thinking he heard wrong for a moment. Huh, Riddle plays his part well.

And suddenly, the aurors looked rather impressed with Harry. “Well, in fifteen minutes you’ve somehow gotten farther than we ever have with him. Refused to address anyone as ‘sir’, much less ‘master’, no matter what we did,” Auror Kennedy explained, running a hand through his hair.

Harry smirked, though it felt far too fake. “Well, I’m not the Boy-Who-Conquered for no reason.”

The aurors laughed.

“Back to the main topic,” Harry interrupted, really not in the mood to deal with appeasing anybody from the Ministry right now. “I’m keeping him. Thank you for bringing my new slave over, and I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun in the near future, if you know what I mean.”

Their laughs broke off, and Kennedy and Powlett suddenly looked a bit more concerned for Harry, though Harry couldn’t ever possibly guess why.

“Are you sure, Mr. Potter? Having a slave is a big responsibility, and.. him especially.. It won’t be easy.” Auror Kennedy tried. “This could all be some big ploy to drive the Wizarding World back into chaos.”

Harry was sure Riddle had some sort of plot or manipulations he was waiting to try, but he wasn’t going to tell the aurors that.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’ve already made up my mind.”

Auror Powlett looked disapproving. “We’d rather not have you be responsible for starting a war-”

“I’m responsible for ending the last one!” Harry’s scathing tone was fueled by his lack of patience to deal with any of this, despite the fact he’d known this was coming.

Auror Powlett ignored his words. “And the Ministry is the safest place to keep a.. Prisoner of his caliber. There would always be at least two guards watching, not to mention everything is lined with special runes to keep everything under control. It is the best place for the prisoner to undergo his sentence.”

“And you think I believe that?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. “Now that the Right of Conquest has been enacted, am I to believe you wouldn’t want me to transfer control to someone else so you all can turn him into a slave yourselves?”

“Mr. Potter, please be reasonable-” Kennedy started.

“You brought him over to my house for me to decide whether I wanted a slave or not. I’ve decided I want one,” Harry made his point as clear as possible. “And, you know, out of everyone in the entire Wizarding World, don’t you think I deserve this? To have my parent’s murderer as my own personal slave? Do I need to list out how many of my friends and family have died? Or count how many years I spent knowing that every single adult had put every ounce of their faith in a baby? A child who knew no magic, compared to people like, let’s say.. Dumbledore!, who was not only older and more experienced, but had both defeated another Dark Lord and had been Voldemort’s teacher in school.”

During his rant, Harry had gripped Riddle’s hair tight enough to cause a pained expression to cover his face, but he hadn’t made a sound. Harry, upon noticing, immediately released his hold and muttered a low “Sorry,” just loud enough for Riddle to hear, and went back to petting his hair slowly.

“Mr. Potter-”

“Give me one good reason, other than ‘he’s in better hands’, that I shouldn’t accept. Riddle enacted the bond, I’ve accepted, and I’m more than capable of dealing with him, unlike the Ministry had been after the Triwizard Tournament. You know, when I told you all that he’s back and you called me a liar,” Harry retorted.

“The Ministry is willing to pay you to part with your slave, even if not permanently—such as a couple days of the week. We believe he still has information on rogue Death Eaters that have escaped the law, and what better way to learn than through their leader?” Auror Powlett compromised.

Harry pretended to think the offer over, humming in thought. But every second he didn’t answer, Riddle slowly grew more and more tense beneath him, his hands clenched into tight fists behind him.

Deciding he’s had enough of the Ministry’s shenanigans for one day, Harry replies bluntly, “He’s not for sale.”

A shudder of relief went through Riddle’s body. Harry could feel him lose the tension in his shoulders, but it was impossible to tell from an outside perspective.

“We’d ask you to reconsider,” Auror Kennedy sighed, “but I doubt you’ll change your mind any time soon. Instead, I can offer that any time you don’t want to deal with your slave for an afternoon or weekend, or decide you want to rid yourself of him permanently, or just decide to take us up on our offer, feel free to let us know. There’s no time limit on our request.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Yeah right, Harry was going to forget it within the next two days at most.

Not long after that, with the aurors looking a bit more frustrated than when they’d arrived, Harry was finally able to get them to leave and agree that they won’t come back without Harry’s permission. Now to see if they actually keep that promise.

Harry fell back into his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Merlin, I absolutely hate the Ministry. I swear I told Kingley to keep my house hidden. Why couldn’t they have just sent me a letter asking me to come to them?? That would have made so much more sense. But no, wizards seem to be lacking in the common sense area.”

Riddle didn’t respond, still kneeling in front of Harry’s chair and keeping his head downcast. His hands were still bound tightly behind his back, and the leash and collar were still connected.

“Suppose it’s just you and me now. Come on, let’s get this stuff off of you.” Harry slid down to the ground level from his chair, watching as Riddle glanced his way in utter confusion and then looked away.

Harry did away with the leash first, unclipping it and pushing it to the side. Next, he shifted around so he could work with the chains on his arms, very glad he could use magic suddenly, seeing as the aurors hadn’t given him any sort of key to unlock anything with.

With a couple soft murmurs of spells, the chains unwound and dropped to the floor, letting Riddle move his arms for the first time in who knows how long. They were probably really sore, after being stuck in such an uncomfortable position for so long, but Riddle only put them in his lap, waiting for Harry’s next move.

All that was left now was the collar, which looked to be nothing more than a band of metal, in Harry’s opinion. A few more quiet spells, and the collar was unlatching from an invisible seam. Harry tossed the chains and collar aside, towards where the leash was laying in a pile.

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other from now on,” Harry stated, standing up to sit back down in his chair. “To be honest.. I still don’t see why you chose me. The prophecy was fulfilled at best, fake at worst, and I honestly didn’t do much to end the war.” Harry shrugged. “I just got lucky, really.”

Riddle’s carefully neutral face broke into something both confused and wary, but also borderline irate.

“It’s like I told Hagrid when I was 11. I’m just Harry. Not anyone special like you all seem to think—I was only special in the first place because of a choice that you had made, so.. I’m not really sure what you expect from me, nor what you’re trying to gain from being here. Perhaps it is just to avoid carrying out your sentence in the Ministry, which I don’t fault you for, but then again, I’m not sure if I believe that you don’t have some sort of plot or manipulation hidden up your sleeve.”

Riddle looked torn between saying something and staying silent, as if not to upset Harry, looking oddly upset himself. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth had the beginning of a frown forming.

“You can speak your mind. At least, for right now,” Harry specified, wondering what was going to happen now, now that he’s given his new slave the means to disrespect him.

“Why do you have no confidence in yourself?” Riddle spat, and Harry was taken back by the angry tone that had been.. In his defense?

That had not been what he was expecting.

“I’m just.. Not as special as you all make me out to be. I’m just Harry,” he repeated, wondering why Riddle seemed to be arguing in defense of Harry.

“Do you really think that I’d give myself to someone I thought mundane? That I’d just give my free will over to someone who hasn’t earned my respect, if nothing else?”

“What I think,” Harry began, “is that you don’t have a choice in the matter. Not anymore. So it doesn’t matter if you respect me or think I’m mundane or not, because you enacted the Right of Conquest with me, and now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions. You’re nothing more than my slave now, and my word is your law. That’s what I think.”

Riddle clicked his tongue and glared at the ground, his hands balling into fists in his lap. “.. And what will happen with me now, master?”

“That’s up for me to decide, isn’t it?” Harry asked rhetorically. “But right now? We’re going to talk.”

“.. About what..?” Riddle was back to the wary tone.

“A bunch of things, really. But first,” Harry paused, giving Riddle a pointed look. “Your name.”

Riddle blanched, but didn’t respond.

“I’m pretty sure, seeing as you’re now my property, that I am allowed to name you whatever I want,” Harry smirked.

“.. You would be correct,” Riddle agreed hesitantly. “And what would you have me named, master?”

He’d said that ‘master’ completely serious. At first, Harry had assumed that was because he was fulfilling his role to get the aurors out of his house, and the second time had been said sarcastically, but.. Merlin, Riddle was completely serious about this whole ordeal.

Harry ignored that for the moment, pretending to ponder over a name, like he hadn’t already decided a while ago. “Hmm.. You know, I’ve always been partial to the name ‘Tom’.”

Riddle winced, but didn’t argue.

“Actually, I met this really wonderful wizard named Tom, once. He was easily the most brilliant person I’d ever met, able to charm anybody and everybody with his charisma and natural talent, not to mention his good looks. We were.. actually really similar, him and I. Both raised by muggles, abused in our own ways, and abandoned by the world when we needed it most. I like to think that.. If our situations had been different, if he hadn’t used his skills for bad, or even if I’d turned dark myself, that.. We could’ve been friends. I think I would’ve liked being friends with him,” Harry smiled, though it didn’t really feel like one--the undertone of sadness just a bit too strong. He moved on, “I’m not naming you after your father, nor any other ‘Tom’ you may have met. Just that one.”

“.. You would name me after Tom Marvolo Riddle?” Riddle kept fidgeting with his hands, still in his lap, and, unlike only a moment ago, now he sounded confused, wary, bewildered, and even.. Half awed? Along with too many emotions for Harry to even begin deciphering them.

“You may not like the name because you compare it to other people, but I only ever knew one ‘Tom’ my entire life, and that is who I’m naming you after,” Harry explained.

(Harry wouldn’t learn this till much later, months down the line, but he’d somehow almost completely wiped Riddle’s—Tom’s—hatred of his name. A name that he’d hated so much for all of his life, simply because it wasn’t even his. ‘Tom’ had only ever been his blasted father’s name, until suddenly, it wasn’t. Suddenly, it was just Tom’s name.

Harry had somehow wiped out such an integral part of Tom—something that had been plaguing him since birth—in less than ten minutes.

No matter Tom’s feelings, however, that did not stop the rest of the ‘talk’ from happening, which was decidedly less of a monumental moment.)

“Second of all,” Harry continued, bringing Tom out of his stupor to again focus on his master, who was speaking much less favorable words. “I will be giving you rules and orders, and I expect you to follow them. You said, earlier, that I could ‘enforce my will upon you’ or something of the sort?”

Sickening dread pooled in Tom’s stomach, but he answered anyway, “Yes, master. If you do, it would- It would be impossible for me to disobey.”

Harry watched Tom pale, obviously assuming the worst, now that Harry knew he could do that. Riddle’s reaction had made Harry’s decision for him.

“I will not use it, unless I feel it is necessary. In return, I expect you to obey as if I had used it. Does that seem fair?” Harry asked.

Tom nodded, “Yes, master.”

“However, with the choice of obeying, it also gives you the choice to disobey,” Harry points out. “And with disobeying comes a punishment.”

As long as Harry doesn’t use his power over Tom to give orders, Tom would continue testing boundaries, seeing how far he can  get away with anything and everything, and Harry would have to impose how far he’s willing to let Riddle go before it deserves a punishment.

“What those punishments will be, though, will depend on you, and what you’ve done to warrant one. I like to think I’m not a naturally cruel person, and I know you’ll be testing your limits out until you find a good balance, but do not test my kindness. I will not hesitate to punish you if I feel I need to, and you will not like it.”

“I understand, master.”

Well, at least Tom knows that there’ll be consequences for his actions. “Alright, next I’m going to give you some long-standing rules. You will obey them, whether it’s a day down the line or thirteen years.” Harry paused for a moment, trying to find the best way to word some, and trying to think of any he may have missed. “Rule number one, you will not lie to me.”

Riddle tensed immediately, because he’d already been caught in a lie only a few minutes ago.

Harry sighed. “I will not punish you for that one, because to be honest, I’d already suspected that you’d lied about it. Plus, I hadn’t actually enforced any rules yet, and that one.. I understand why you did. So you can call that one your one-time warning. You will not get a second one.”

“Yes, master.” Riddle was obviously trying to calm himself down, or to at least pretend he was calm, but it wasn’t working as well as he probably wanted it to.

“I have been lied to about everything my whole life, and I will not take it from you. I don’t care if you lie to other people, even my friends—as long as you don’t get caught, that is—, but not to me. I count partial truths as lies, as well, and will not stand for being manipulated either. You brought this bond upon yourself—the least you can do is deal with the consequences of your actions.”

“I’m- I’m sorry for lying earlier, master. I did not- I didn’t want you to think me.. useless,” Riddle concluded, though it had seemed like he’d wanted to use a different word.

“.. used. Broken.”

“Rule number two, and this one is more for me, to be honest,” Harry continued, wondering if Tom’s knees were getting sore from kneeling so tensely for so long. “I will not sexually use, or abuse, you. If you ever feel that I’m pushing too much into that territory, you are to tell me immediately, and I will stop. However, you may not use that excuse to get out of something you don’t want to do, even other punishments.”

Tom only looks too confused at that, as if he’d expected that to be one of Harry’s main reasons for keeping him. And Harry hates the Ministry all the more for it.

“Rule three: you are not to use magic without my explicit permission. I understand the bond has already taken care of that rule, and I’m not inclined to change it any time soon,” Harry explained. “The only exception to that rule is if you believe that yours or my life is in imminent danger and are using it to protect said life. Afterwards, you will explain to me why you felt the need to use it, and what you did to protect yourself or me. You may not create these scenarios yourself—they must be completely accidental or from an outside source other than yourself.”

Perhaps Harry was being too specific, but this was Tom Riddle, so Harry felt that his apprehension was well-deserved.

“Rule four, as you are my slave now, out of your own doing, you will treat me as your master. You are no longer Voldemort, nor will you ever be him again. With this bond, you are my slave and I am your master, and I expected to be treated as such. Keep addressing me correctly and doing what you’ve been doing, and we’ll be fine. You’ve been a problem for me for most of my life, and you will not be one now,” Harry declared.

Riddle—Tom—shifted minutely, answering with a small voice. “Yes, master.”

Harry paused for a minute. “Hmm, those are all I can think of at the moment, though do not doubt that I can change or add more at any point. Now, for some questions. First, and perhaps the biggest question, is it possible to reverse the Right of Conquest in any way? Do I need to worry about you trying to escape constantly?”

Tom flinched, replying with a faster tone than necessary. “No, master—the bond is irreversible. There is no known way out, and I will not look for one, if I even thought it possible. There is- There is no reverse.”

Harry wondered if he should believe Tom immediately, or perhaps make sure he’s not lying. This would be a very bad thing for Tom to lie about, mostly for Harry.

Oh, maybe that’s a good idea for a first order. Which Harry will deal with after the conversation.

“Alright, now.. Why do you have your looks back?” Harry asked.

A pause. Then two, as Tom tried to figure out how to answer, stumbling over his words in the process, slowly growing a bit panicked. “I, uh, I- I don’t know? They were just- I assume the—my—horcruxes had something to do with it? I’m- I’m sorry, master.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I don’t care if you don’t know the answer, I was just wondering if you did know. Saying “I don’t know” is a much better option than lying, I’d say.”

Truly, Harry had his own theories on what all happened, but he’ll keep them to himself for now.

“This next question, well..” Harry decided to be blunt and just come out and say it. “Did you know I was a horcrux?”

“What?!” Tom snapped his head up to meet Harry’s eyes, only to seemingly realize what he’d done and averted his gaze. “I- Sorry, master.. I- No, I didn’t know. But.. um, may I ask a question..?”

“You just did,” Harry joked, then regretted it when Tom lowered his head and started trembling, an apology on his lips. “I was joking, ask your question.”

“.. Did.. Did you die? To get rid of the horcrux? I swear you were dead that one time, I just know it,” Tom declared with more confidence than he’s had this entire conversation.

“.. I did,” Harry agreed. “.. I don’t think I was meant to come back, but.. I met Death in limbo, and your horcrux, and it was the ugliest thing—a baby under a bench crying, looking like an unwrapped mummy that had long since decayed—and Death said to leave it alone, and I really wanted to, you know? But.. I’ve been that kid, and I can’t just.. Wish that fate on anybody, even Voldemort, so I grabbed it and comforted it for a few minutes, until it was able to stop crying and fell asleep, and then I woke up, like I’d never been dead.” Harry shrugged, as if none of that was any kind of big deal.

“That was real?!” Tom exclaimed.

“Wait, what?” Harry asked. Tom had memories of being in limbo??

Tom explained, “I have- I have memories from some of my horcruxes. Most of them.. don’t really make sense, and they appear randomly, but.. I remember white, and.. being in pain. I- I remember feeling the warmth of somebody’s skin, of being held, but.. I didn’t think much of it..”

“Yeah, that’d be limbo. Now let’s just hope that neither of us have to go back,” Harry joked. “Now, one last question. Do you have any questions?”

There was a short pause, while Tom realized what Harry had asked, and then going through the process of believing he heard correctly, and then how to word his question.

“.. How- Why does it seem like you knew this was going to happen? Or that- You seem to be unsurprised by.. My appearance here. Did you- know? Master?” Tom questioned, actually avoiding the main question he’d wanted to ask.

Why does it seem like the light side’s golden child is perfectly okay with the idea of slavery?

“I mean.. I wouldn’t say I knew, but.. There’s been rumors. I’ve got my own spies in the Ministry, and.. We knew something like this was going to happen, though not the bond. I’m- I’m not eleven anymore. I’ve killed, I’ve been killed, and.. I’m done having people hide things and make decisions for me. Perhaps.. I’m not okay with slavery in general, but.. I know for a fact that you do deserve it. And therefore I’m not going to argue against it, especially seeing as you did it to yourself,” Harry explained. “I don’t approve of what the Ministry was doing, and I don’t blame you for trying to find a way out, but.. You had no way of knowing what it would be like with me—whether I was the light side’s golden child like you thought or.. Someone who’s not. And really? I don’t think I’m either. I’m okay with the idea only because I know you and what you’ve done, and therefore your sentence can be justified. You tried to enslave the wizarding world, and thus got enslaved yourself. It’s just.. Kinda ironic, to me. But it also was.. predictable.”

Whatever Tom thought about that spiel of words, he didn’t bother sharing it. The silence stretched out for a minute, during that time Harry noticed how Tom seemed to sway in exhaustion, and just how haggard he really looked.

“Any more questions?”

“.. No, master.”

Harry leaned down and pet through Tom’s hair for a moment, who again leaned into the touch without even seeming to notice. He nudged the kneeling man to get up, shuffling out of his chair himself. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

Tom followed behind quietly, sounding just as tired as he looked. “.. Three days ago, I believe, master. They were.. Unable to feed me after I enacted the bond. The master’s permission is needed to eat, as another deterrent for the slave against acting out.”

“That’s.. Not good,” Harry finished lamely, not really sure what to say to that. They entered the kitchen, a quaint room with a mix between muggle and magical means of cooking. “Go sit at the table.” Harry gestured to the small table with a couple chairs off to the side. If they were having more people over, he’d go eat in the dining room, but Harry saw no point to that now.

Harry turned towards the fridge, grabbing out a couple different ingredients for a quick meal. He started preparing some sandwiches, feeling they’re a pretty safe option, no matter how picky Tom turned out to be, then decided Tom doesn’t really have any room to be picky right now.

“Here-” He turned around to set the plate on the table, pausing when he noticed Tom kneeling by a chair instead of sitting in it. “The chair, Tom. Sit in the chair, please.”

Tom flushed red, but obediently slid slowly into the chair. He put his hands in his lap, even after Harry put the plate down between them and started munching on his own sandwich.

“.. Are you not going to eat?” Harry eventually asked, after he’d taken three bites without Tom reaching for one.

“.. You.. did not give permission, master,” Tom answered, staring at the food.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You really think I’d make food right in front of you, after asking you when you’d last eaten, and then not let you have any?”

Tom hesitantly answered, sounding like he’d much rather not. “.. The.. Ministry would.. do something similar. They would.. place food, just out of reach, and wait for me to get hungry enough to beg- ask, or would feed me scraps if I pleased them.”

Harry doesn’t like that Tom had so readily compared him to the Ministry, but he doesn’t like learning what the Ministry had done even more. He buried his face in his hands, groaning.

He pushed the entire plate towards Tom, sighing in exasperation. “Just eat.”

Tom looked like that was both the first and last thing he wanted to do, his hunger warring with the more rational side of his brain—the one telling him that this was another trick, that he was going to regret ever thinking differently. But, eventually, he did hesitantly grab one, keeping a careful eye on Harry the entire time, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Harry pretended not to notice the looks, reaching towards the plate for another himself.

Eventually, the number of sandwiches diminished to none, disappearing a lot quicker once Tom had worked up the courage to eat without second-guessing every bite. Harry vanished the plate into the sink without a second though about the action, not realizing Tom had noticed what an incredible amount of power that would have taken—to do advanced magic so easily, without a wand nor words, especially without even thinking about it.

“Alright, time to get you situated, I guess.” Harry stretched, then stood up. He gestured for Tom to follow, who trailed along behind him through the house.

After the war, Harry had decided he’d rather not deal with people, whether it be an adoring fan or a dark lord supporter out for revenge, so he’d bought himself a nice little house half hidden on the edge of a forest. There was a spacious backyard, perfect for a garden or even some animals, and sometimes Harry would spend his afternoon getting lost in the forest behind it. Nobody knew the building existed except for his closest friends, Kingsley Shacklebolt (for emergencies), and now apparently two random Aurors and an ex-Dark Lord.

Though it was a bit far from civilization, there was a small town nearby that was very friendly, and it was easy enough to apparate or floo anywhere else.

The house could perhaps be described as a bit small, but it suited Harry’s needs just fine. There was a potions lab in the basement, a decent-sized library full of books from the Black library, a study, a couple extra bedrooms for guests, and plenty of room to walk around freely.

That’s where he was taking Tom now—to one of the extra bedrooms. It was just down the hall from his room, but he’d make sure to add some extra wards before night. He opened the door, stepping aside to let Tom look inside. “This can be your room. It’s got a bathroom connected to it, and it’s already fully stocked, so feel free to use whatever you find. My room is just down the hall,” He gestured towards his door, “so if you need anything, you can knock and wait for me to answer. Do not try to enter it without permission.”

Tom nodded, eyes glancing towards the door he’d pointed at. Harry didn’t think he realized his mouth was curved into a frown, but Harry saw no point in mentioning it.

“We can go shopping for stuff for you tomorrow, but for now, there should be some clothes in the drawers that might fit you,” Harry stated, already mentally composing a list of things to pick up.

“.. Yes, master,” Tom muttered, sounding far too tired to even be standing, in Harry’s personal opinion.

“I’m going to let you take a well-needed nap for today, because you honestly sound like you’re about to topple over any second.”

“.. Sorry, master.” A slight tremble in his hands, but covered up with him clenching them into fists.

“It’s fine. But, one last thing that I feel the need to specify before I leave you be,” Harry made sure Tom was paying attention to his words, “I will not enter your room without your permission. Ever. This is your space to.. I don’t know.. Feel safe in? That being said, if I call you while you’re in your room, I expect you to come.”

Tom glanced quickly between the room and Harry, then back to the room. It was bland—decorated for a guest, without any personal touches. Hm, perhaps Harry would have to change that.

“Well, anyways, that’s all I wanted to say. Take a nap, rest up for a bit, take a shower, I don’t care. When you’re finished with all that, come find me. I’ll most likely be in the library, which is in the hallway on the first floor that we passed, or in the living room. Or maybe my study, which was the room we were in earlier,” Harry rambled, unable to stop himself.

“Yes, master. I will come find you,” Tom recited, letting Harry know he was listening.

“Well, I’ll leave you to that, then,” Harry nodded, unable to think of anything else to say. He left Tom standing in the hall, already mentally reciting a list of what he wanted to do today.

If he’d looked back, he would’ve seen Tom staring after him, looking much too confused about the fact he’d been.. given a room? Left alone so soon? Not immediately sent to do chores?

What was he here for, if not to be used?

. . . . .

A few hours later, while Harry was laying down across his couch, studying a large textbook full of theory and listening to some quiet music, Tom finally made a reappearance. He stood in the doorway for a moment, before quietly coming over to where Harry was lounging and dropping to his knees in once graceful motion.

Harry finished reading his page, leaving Tom to wait on the floor while he continued studying. Once the page was finished, he placed his bookmark and closed the book, before finally turning towards his slave.

Tom was keeping his face carefully neutral, staring at the ground without a single hint as to what he was feeling. He looked much better than he had earlier, probably having taken Harry up on the offer to take both a shower and a nap, along with finding some clothes that had fit him. With the long-sleeved maroon shirt and black trousers he’d found covering up most of the bruises, Harry could almost pretend that he hadn’t been severely abused by the Ministry. 

Voicing his thoughts, Harry patted Tom’s hair again, which was quickly becoming a bad habit and- oh Merlin his hair was even softer now after the shower. “Well, you look better.”

“Yes, thank you, Master, for allowing me the chance to rest and shower. I am grateful you showed such kindness,” Tom murmured, his kind words only put off by his monotone voice.

“Okay, that sounded fake,” Harry replied before he could stop himself.

And, as Harry’s grown to expect, Tom flinched, his hands gripping his pants tightly to try and keep them from shaking. “Sorry- I’m sorry, Master, I’ll do better-”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Harry sighed. “I meant that your gratitude sounded fake because you don’t actually mean it. And I honestly don’t care if you do or don’t, I’d just rather not have to listen to you being thankful for every little thing to try and stay in my good graces. If you mean it, sure, you can thank me then. Otherwise, no use in pretending, really, because I’ll see right through it.”

Harry remembers the diary from his second year, full of confidence and yet, still quite a terrible liar (in Harry’s opinion). He remembers watching Riddle through the memories, where it had seemed so obvious to Harry he’d been lying because Harry has the same ticks when he lies. Harry remembered wondering why Dumbledore, nor anyone else, couldn’t tell what was happening until it was far too late, and it took years for him to realize why.

“I know you, and who you used to be, and I’m not looking for, nor trying to create, someone who’s every action is based around trying to please me. As I said before, I will not tolerate disobedience or disrespect, but I don’t expect you to be grateful for everything. Just.. be yourself, as long as ‘yourself’ doesn’t lead to punishments,” Harry tried to explain.

“.. Yes, master,” Tom grumbled reluctantly, dropping the mask, which sounded a lot more honest to Harry, in his opinion. Finally, instead of the carefully neutral blankness of emotions, Tom looked rather annoyed at the situation.

Well, Harry hadn’t expected him to drop it completely right away, but he’s not going to mention it.

“That being said, I have your first task for you,” Harry brought up. He’d gotten the idea earlier, and figured now was as good a time as any. “You mentioned that there’s no possible way to reverse the Right of Conquest. I want you to find proof of that somehow—in a way that I would accept as both legal and credible. You may use the library I mentioned earlier, and if you have any specific texts in mind that aren’t in there, let me know and I’ll decide what to do from there. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” came the clipped reply. “May I leave to go do that, then?”

“Sure,” Harry replied easily.

Tom stood up and gave Harry a short nod before turning to leave the room, never once looking back.

Harry took the chance to organize his thoughts. From what he’s learned, Tom knew much more of the actual laws and rules of slaves than Harry did, and he was actually following them, albeit reluctantly, now that Harry’s told him to drop his mask of fake gratitude and eager-to-please attitude. Perhaps Harry should actually look into the rules and whatnot himself, to learn what he’s gotten himself into this time..

Hermione was going to have a fit.

Harry watched the doorway Tom had disappeared through, then returned to his studying. NEWTs were going to study for themselves, after all.

. . . . .

Tom found the library with relative ease. He’d seen it earlier on passing, and Potter’s—his master’s—house wasn’t big enough to get lost in for long.

He entered through the doorway, then immediately collapsed against the wall with shaky breathing and thoughts he’d rather not have. He slumped the rest of the way into sitting, allowing himself a few minutes to work through his breakdown, unable to push through it this time.

Merlin, he was a slave now. His plan had worked (the first one to work when Potter was involved, Tom thought ironically) but he hadn’t actually thought past that. His only concern had been to get away from the Ministry, and had bet on the idea that Potter wouldn’t mind having his very own personal slave in the form of his worst enemy. Except..

Potter hadn’t actually specified why he accepted. Was Tom here to be used like the Ministry had done? But why feed him actual food  and make that rule about “not using him sexually”? Why even take the chains off? Or allow Tom his own room and let him sleep and take a much-wanted shower?

What was he here for, if not to be used?

He’d tried the grateful and obedient slave approach, but it was only met with suspicion and distrust, and Potter had immediately asked him not to do that. He’d told Tom to ‘be himself’ as long as it didn’t lead to trouble. Except.. Being himself is what got him into this mess. It’s what got him into every mess. Nobody liked it when Tom acted like himself, they only wanted the Tom that had been wearing a charming mask they’d never seen beneath.

His master asked him to drop the mask and be himself, but he didn’t actually mean that. Nobody wanted Tom Riddle. But, nonetheless, Tom had traded his charming mask for a more resentful kind of persona. If Potter didn’t want him to be the perfect slave, then he was probably expecting Tom to hate this situation and fight him every step of the way. And Tom really didn’t want to even attempt to get on his master’s bad side, so while he’s willing to act annoyed, he’d rather not risk not obeying.

Potter had acted confused when Tom had mentioned the Right of Conquest, but he’d seemed on board with the idea without much convincing. Surely, even if he doesn’t know the specifics of the bond, he knew what slaves were supposed to do. How they were supposed to act. And even if he didn’t, Tom knew the rules, and he would follow them the best he could.

It’s ironic that Potter’s first order would be to do research—to allow Tom access to any books in the library—when he’d expected never to read again. He knows his mind is one of his most dangerous traits, and he knows Potter knows that, so he’d fully expected to be banned from ever being allowed near any sort of knowledge.

Well, mostly.. He’d expected to be hurt. He’d imagined chains and torture, both physical and mental. He’d imagined pain. Wouldn’t Potter want to get his revenge for everything Tom—Voldemort—had done?

That does bring up the point, though, that Potter could have just used the bond to control Tom. It would have been impossible for Tom to even try to disobey, not that he would, so why would Potter take the risk? Was he waiting for Tom to make a mistake? To complain?

Well, then his master would be in for some disappointment, because Tom had no intention of acting out in any way. He’d meant it, when he’d said he was loyal to Potter. Anything his master could do, it would never make up for the damage Tom has done, which made it easier to accept. Tom’s loyalty was to his master and his master alone, and nothing Potter could do would change that. Even if.. Even if Potter decided to give him back to the Ministry.

Sure, he’d seemed against it when they were here, but.. That was because he’d already laid claim to his slave, and the Ministry had been trying to swindle him out of his rightful property. Potter had wanted them out of his home, which was understandable, but even so.. He’d still said he’d think about their offer. The offer that if he’d ever wanted to be rid of Tom, for however long, his master could bring him back. Not only that, but he’d get paid for it.

It was a battle between how useful Tom was for his master, if it was worth keeping him rather than getting paid and not having to deal with his slave.

And Tom really didn’t want to go back to the Ministry. He’d take any punishment Potter could give if it meant he wouldn’t go back, and.. That, perhaps, was the point. If Tom disobeyed, his master would bring him back. Potter, somehow, impossibly, knew that was the worst punishment for Tom, and that’s why ke kept the offer on the table.

If that was the case, then Tom would have even more incentive not to disobey.

But.. Tom felt like there was something he was missing. Like.. all of the points lead to something, but what... 

Oh.

Oh.

Tom understood now. 

How could he have been so blind.

Potter didn’t want a ‘grateful slave’, he wanted Tom to act ‘like himself’, which he knew was a horrible idea in and of itself. Potter didn’t want to use the bond to control Tom, instead trusting in him to follow orders himself. Potter didn’t even seem worried about if Tom would disobey or not, as if it was only a passing thought, at best.

He wanted Tom to disobey.

Tom’s breathing, which had calmed into a slow rhythm, turned shallow and each breath felt harder to take than the last. He grabbed a handful of his hair, tight enough to hurt, but not tight enough to stop the realization of what was happening to flood his brain.

Potter wanted Tom to disobey, so he’d have an undeniable reason to punish him. If Tom was misbehaving, he wouldn’t have to feel bad for hurting him, because Tom ‘deserved it’. It was the perfect way to both keep his morals and get the revenge he so rightfully deserves.

Perhaps Tom had underestimated his master’s conniving mind, because the idea was absolutely genius. Just wait for the slave to mess up or act out on their own, and then they’ll have the perfect reason to punish them. It makes the slave think that they deserved it because they messed up, so it was their fault that this was happening, which encouraged better behavior by itself. It could paint the master as reluctant to punish them, but having no choice because of the bad actions of their slave, if they’d wished to go in that light.

Even the Ministry hadn’t thought of doing anything of the sort—they’d preferred Tom unable to make any decisions and took that choice away from him. 

Tom half wished he’d thought of doing that when he was Voldemort, because it probably would’ve led to better results for his side of the war. And then he immediately regretted that thought, because, looking back on everything, Tom doesn’t actually want Voldemort to have won. Voldemort was insane and had forgotten Tom’s true reasons for reaching for the top—which had included gaining sway over the Ministry and other higher-ups so he’d be able to change rules that deserved to be changed, such as how muggleborns are integrated into the magical world, and what age magic starts being taught, and even what kinds of magic, since so many kinds had been written off without further research, when it could have led into something great.

Tom had just wanted to change the world for the better, for muggleborns like himself, and even for magical orphans. Instead, he’d lost himself to insanity and now.. He wasn’t even a filthy mudblood anymore. He was a slave.

And because of that, he was going to have to do his best to please his master in any way, shape, or form. Even if it meant disobeying on purpose, so he can fulfill the role of deserving a punishment that Potter was probably eager to carry out.

Tom pushed himself up onto shaky knees, using the wall as support while he figured out how to walk again. His master had ordered him to do something, and therefore Tom would obey.

Even if it meant earning himself punishments intentionally.