If Paths Diverge

Chapter 46

"I still don't think this is a great idea," Harry said, walking up a path that had appeared out of the endless mist as soon as Voldemort had incanted a few spells.

The dirt road was winding and Harry followed it with his eyes until it reached an imposing black stonework castle on a hill. A few people, Harry assumed they were students, milled about until they saw Lord Voldemort striding towards them.

He's still got it.

Harry watched, amused, as most of the people backed away fast or were rendered frozen in fear. Some attempted hopeful smiles and one woman even went so far as to lift her hand in an aborted wave.

Voldemort ignored them all.

"Stop worrying, Harry. No one will dare touch you here."

"I'm not worried about that!" Harry said indignantly.

The other man simply looked at him without turning fully, raising a hairless eyebrow. Harry laughed, caught out.

"Fine," he conceded. "Well, excuse me for not trusting the woman who tried to kill me the last time I saw her."

Voldemort halted abruptly and faced him, his eyes flashing.

"She will not touch you. We have spoken about this. If she so much as says a disrespectful word to you—"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said. "Tell you so that you can kill her. No thanks."

Voldemort grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking away.

"You will tell me, Potter."

Harry tried to pull his arm free, but it would take a bit of a struggle and people were openly staring at them now. He didn't want to make an even bigger scene.

"I don't want you to kill her."

"This is not up for negotiation. You agreed, hence we are here. Are you changing your mind?"

Harry sighed, defeated.

"No," he said on an exhale. "But—"

"Good."

Voldemort released him and continued up the path.

"Come along, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes for the sake of their transfixed audience.

"Yes, Master."

~*~

He had to admit, the building was impressive. And it suited Voldemort. It was mysterious, slightly menacing, dark— but it also had lovely bright windows and many finer details that you had to walk slowly and really look at to notice.

Which was what he was currently doing. Anything, rather than show his anxiety about meeting Voldemort's staff.

"My Lord," Harry heard a simpering woman sigh, and Harry swallowed his groan as he looked over.

Bellatrix, the duelling instructor, of all the ridiculous things, was standing before Voldemort, her eyes rapt on his face. Adoring, devoted, just way too much for a meeting with the Headmaster.

Plus— Voldemort had told her unequivocally that he and Harry were together! Why the fuck was she still staring at him so thirstily? Merlin, the pounding in his veins demanded either that Harry kill the woman or snog the Dark Lord throughly right in her face to remind her who had dibs.

"Bella," that high voice said, and Harry hated that he had a pet name for that bitch.

He'd have to bring that up with him. Voldemort turned his back on her and gestured for Harry to approach. Harry sighed and made his way over.