Poetic Justice

“Great!” Ms. Holly exclaims, bouncing up from her seat with an enthusiasm that Harry really doesn’t like, considering the situation. She starts talking to the aurors, and Harry doesn’t listen exactly to what they say.

Instead, he’s watching Riddle try to steady his breathing silently, as if making a single sound is taboo. His eyes never leave the floor, even when the leash connected to him is handed over to the lady. He doesn’t even glance over when the two aurors say their goodbyes, walking out the door with a cheerful wave.

A moment later, Ms. Holly is handing the leash over to him, and he takes it more on automatic response than actually wanting to hold it. A book on slavery in one hand, and a slave in the other. Just how Harry wanted to spend his day.

He’s gonna be sick.

“Just one more thing before you leave!” The lady stops Harry, even though he hadn’t actually moved yet, other than standing up. Harry only glances over, not even sure if he really wants to hear whatever she’s about to say. “We are aware that this slave used to be quite good at manipulation, so every couple of weeks, we’ll randomly check in to see how you’re doing! You know, making sure they aren’t using your lack of knowledge to their advantage, getting away with things they would be punished for, acting above their station, or anything of the sort. Think of it as our thanks!”

He was right. He really didn’t want to hear whatever she said. “That’s.. really kind of you.. but I- I don’t really think..”

“Nonsense! We would love to repay you back for everything you’ve done!”

“Oh, uh.. I’m not sure..”

“We insist!”

Harry could only sigh, still not very good at turning down requests. He really needs to stop being such a pushover. Ms. Holly seems to take his silence as agreement, and at this point, Harry wanted nothing more than to leave. He would deal with this problem at a later date.

He decided to change the subject, thinking of a potential problem. “Um, do you have the key to the.. chains.” He glances at Riddle, who had finally calmed his breathing, and had obviously noticed the change in who was holding the leash. He was still as a statue, other than a faint trembling he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Oh, here you go!” Ms. Holly hands over the key. It’s thin and light, deceptively so, for what it unlocks. Harry stares at it for a moment, then easily slips it into his pocket, where he immediate applies a sticking charm on the off chance it tries to fall out. She waves him out, obviously expecting him to leave now.

With his slave.

Harry takes the cue to head out the door, wanting nothing more than to be out of that room. Riddle immediately gets up and follows him, always staying a few paces behind but never letting the leash pull. Harry doesn’t look behind him, but he can hear the chains clinking together faintly.

Harry doesn’t know what he would do if he ran into another person, but luckily, not a single living being crosses their path. He still feels sick to his stomach, because there’s not a single thing good about this situation.

“Oh, finally.” Harry had never been happier to see the Apparition Zone, despite how much he absolutely loathes apparating. He turns to Riddle, still standing behind him, having stopped when Harry stopped. “Try not to throw up, Riddle.”

That was all the warning he gave him before grabbing Riddle’s arm and apparating them home.

. . . . .

No matter how many times Harry apparates, he has a feeling he’ll always hate it. But, at least he didn’t get sick this time. He glances over to Riddle, who looks a bit uneasy, but otherwise looks fine.

They landed right outside Grimmauld Place, right where Harry was trying to go. He sees Riddle try to recognize where they are with no luck, though he probably has a pretty good guess.

“Well, Riddle, welcome to my humble abode. The Black Ancestral Home—fancy, I know.” He sees Riddle glance over to him for a moment—the first time he’s actually looked at Harry, but look away immediately. Harry pretends he didn’t see. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Harry opens the front door, gesturing to let Riddle in first. Riddle only pauses for half a second, barely noticeable hesitancy, before continuing in. Harry follows him in, shutting the door behind them with a soft click.

It feels good to be back home, especially after what Harry just went through. And though there’s nothing he’d love to do more than go back to bed and pretend this was all just a dream, Harry knows he has more important things to do, and ignoring the situation won’t make it go away.

Harry sighs.

He takes a few moments to compose himself, then turns to Riddle, still standing and waiting for him to do something. Harry leads him into the living room, sighing again. He seems to be doing that a lot today. He bets he’ll be doing it a lot more from now on, too.

“If I take these chains off, are you going to attack me?” Harry asks. He knows it’s blunt, but he really doesn’t care right now.

Riddle only stares at him for a moment, as if processing what Harry had said, or trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Harry stares straight back, absentmindedly noting what a beautiful red color his eyes are.

Riddle breaks the stare first, minutely shaking his head.

Up closer, Harry can see much of the details that he missed earlier. Riddle obviously wasn’t coddled wherever he was before, clothes (basically rags) stained brown with dirt, and Harry really hopes that the different shade of brown isn’t dried-on blood. He can see the outline of bruises trailing up and down his body, as if somebody repeatedly kicked him a bunch. (No magic means no healing factor, either-) Even through his shirt, Harry notices how thin Riddle is, as if he hasn’t had a decent meal since the final battle.

(To be honest, he probably hasn’t.)

(Harry pushes down the urge to throw up right then and there.)

There’s no possible way to know if Riddle’s lying or not, but Harry doesn’t even care about the possibility of Riddle trying to attack or run away right now. He sets the book on the coffee table next to them, suppressing another sigh.

He unlatches the leash first, discarding it to the ground as soon as it’s gone. He never wants to see it again, and he can’t imagine what Riddle must feel. The collar is still on, but he’ll deal with that in a minute.

Next, Harry reaches up to untie the cloth in his mouth. Riddle doesn’t move, only tensing up even further every time Harry’s hand brushes over his skin. It takes a few moments for Harry to figure out the knot, and he frowns and tries to maneuver around it, pointedly ignoring Riddle’s confused gaze.

Eventually, the knot comes undone and the cloth loosens, and Harry leans back and sighs. The cloth falls to the floor, and Riddle’s stare follows it, finally breaking away from watching Harry. Instead of trying to say anything, Riddle only clicks his jaw shut, not making a single sound, as if he’s scared of finding out what would happen if he does.

“Turn around.” Harry reaches into his pocket for the key, probably a bit too glad it hadn’t fallen out by accident. He doesn’t even wanna think what would have happened if he’d lost it.

He guides the key into the small hole, and the lock clicks open easily. The chains loosen and fall off Riddle’s wrists, landing on the ground with a dull clang. Harry can’t help but to kick them away in disgust, towards where he’d thrown the leash on the ground.

Harry doesn’t know what he expected Riddle to do once he got his hands free, but Riddle only rubs his wrists for a moment before letting them fall to his sides, obviously waiting for Harry to make his next move.

(Harry wonders what Riddle expects him to do.)

His eyes trail over Riddle’s body again, noticing even more small bruises littering his body. Riddle’s wrists are bright red and rubbed raw from the chains, and Harry wonders exactly how long they had been on him. His eyes catch on the collar again, which is what looks like a metal band snapped shut around his neck, which can’t possibly be comfortable.

Harry reaches to unlock the collar next, hoping desperately the key works for that too, but he can’t find the opening. (He really hopes there is one.) To get a better look, because Riddle is easily a few inches taller than him, he nudges Riddle to make himself shorter, so he’s hopefully able to find a keyhole.

Riddle seems to get the wrong idea of what Harry wants, because he tenses again, as if dealing with internal hesitation, and his hands ball into tight fists.

Harry’s about to explain that he just wants him to bend over a bit so he can see better, but Riddle drops to his knees before he gets a word out, obviously believing Harry wanted him to kneel.

Harry sighs again, not really sure how to deal with this situation.

“So, listen..” Harry starts instead, fingers tracing over the collar for any bump or keyhole. “I like this situation just about as much as you do. I didn’t even know slavery was still a thing until about half an hour ago, which brings up a lot of points I’d rather not get into right now.”

“But no matter how much we may hate this situation, we can’t really ignore it either. I’m not stupid enough to trust you, given that you’ll probably try to manipulate things to your advantage first chance you get, knowing you. And I really hope you’re smart enough to realize what a precarious situation you’re in. You try literally anything and you’ll be tortured and killed, and I might not be able to stop it if they think you’re using me.”

Harry finally finds the keyhole, hidden on the bottom on the side of the collar, and silently sighs in relief. He nudges the key in, and hearing the click of it unlocking sounded like music to Harry’s ears.

“So, I guess what I’m saying is don’t make this any worse than it already is. I’m trying to keep you from being tortured to death, but I can’t do anything to stop it if you doom yourself there out of sheer stupidity.” Harry unlatches the collar, immediately tossing it into the pile with undeniable disgust.

“.. Why?” Riddle’s voice sounds hoarse from disuse, obviously the first words he’s said in days, if the muzzle-gag thing was anything to go by.

Riddle seemed just as surprised at his own voice as Harry was. He blinked, startled at hearing his voice, then looked like he’d do anything to take back the word that slipped out without his permission. He stared at the ground, hands trembling slightly, as if he expected Harry to hurt him for speaking.

Before Riddle can say or do anything else, Harry continues on, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Why what?”

Riddle seems to have an internal battle with himself, untensing just a bit when nothing happens after he spoke, but also looking unsure how to answer Harry’s question. He licks his lips, then bites the bottom one, before finally deciding to answer. “Why.. why do you even care?”

That makes Harry pause, staring at Riddle with disbelief, but already knowing the bitter truth. “What, you really thought that I would send you to your death just because I didn’t—don’t—want a slave?”

Harry frowns. Riddle doesn’t reply, which only succeeds in confirming Harry’s suspicions.

(And Harry’s heart hurts.)

“I’m not.. I don’t- I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death. I had the power to keep somebody from being tortured and killed—so even if I don’t want a slave, I would never forgive myself if I let you die right then.”

Neither of them say a word for a few moments. Riddle doesn’t look up from where he’s still kneeling, and Harry remembers when he had tried to turn down the slave only a moment after Riddle had come in. He gets lost in his thoughts, trying to imagine how Riddle felt in that moment.

A whisper breaks out through the silence, voicing Harry’s only clear thought without his permission.

“You looked so scared when they said what would happen.”

If Harry’s voice cracked halfway through, neither mentioned it.

Instead, Harry pretends the confession had never slipped through, completely moving on a moment later. He picks up the forgotten book on the coffee table, sitting down on his soft couch and sinking in as much as possible.

He pretends he doesn’t see Riddle tense up again, who obviously remembers the “several high-quality punishment tools” given to Harry as thanks for defeating the person sitting right in front of him.

“She said this book contains a guideline.” Harry holds the book up, deceptively plain for what it contains. “So let’s try our best to follow it and keep you alive.”

Riddle gives the book a wary look, but gives Harry a slow nod.

Harry opens the book for the first time, and instead of starting at the beginning, he starts skimming through the pages. A few moments later, he seems to find what he’s looking for towards the end and flips a few pages back, and Riddle is rightly cautious of whatever he found.

“But that requires effort on your part, too. You would need to listen and obey when I give an order, no matter how much you may hate it.. I don’t- I don’t want to fight you. I would try not to make you do things you hate, but that may not always be an option.” Harry cocks his head to the side. “Would you be willing to serve me? To obey me?”

Riddle hesitates, and his voice is still raspy, and he looks much too tired to be awake, but he answers nonetheless.

“.. Yes.”

Harry looks down into the book again, taking out the object he had found earlier. Riddle fears the worst, cringing back as it appears, which Harry pretends he didn’t see.

The object in question is a bright, crimson red collar. It’s made of a soft material of high quality, and there is no lock and key—only a buckle that clicks into place.

“This will be the proof of our agreement.” Harry holds up the collar. “I will try to keep you alive the best I can, and in return, you will obey me.”

Harry leans forward to where Riddle is kneeling in front of him and buckles the collar around his neck.

The sound of the click is deafening.