In Essence Divided

[ Malfoy Manor ]

Summary: Harry finds wisdom from unexpected places.

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Harry followed Narcissa Malfoy down the stately corridors of the manor, stomach churning with misery and humiliation.

Malfoy had ignored him the whole year, and Harry had been happy to ignore him back, never once thinking of the possibility that he could be working for Voldemort already.

Because of this carelessness, he was trapped again, in an even worse situation than before because Voldemort would be carefully watching for any escape attempt, and he'd blown Snape's cover.

The man would die, slowly and painfully, because Harry wasn't good enough at Occlumency. Oh, he'd tried very hard to protect Snape, but there had been too many Occlumency lessons, too many positive interactions between them, to bury them all behind his former hatred for the man.

Harry's recent distrust of Dumbledore, and the growing distance between them, had paradoxically made it much easier to protect the headmaster's secrets. Harry was pretty confident Voldemort hadn't discovered their discussions about Horcruxes.

It was a cold comfort though.

"Here you are, Mr Potter," said Mrs Malfoy, stopping in front of a heavy oaken door. "I already asked a house-elf to bring a collation to your room. Please let me know if you need anything else."

"I don't know... how about untying me and giving me back my wand? No? I'm a prisoner here, not a guest, so there's no need to pretend."

"You're an honoured guest," she replied calmly. "If you are as clever as I think you are, Mr Potter, you will come to realise the power that comes with having the Dark Lord's favour."

"So you would be happy for Draco to be in my place then?" She stayed silent for a second, then bowed her head in acknowledgement of his point.

"That's not for me, or you, to decide. No one can go against the Dark Lord's will, and he has chosen you. Speaking from experience, I would advise you to make the best of it."

Speaking from experience? Did Narcissa Malfoy refer to her own marriage there? She'd been born a Black, and they were too deeply focused on blood purity to let their children marry freely.

Harry supposed that was one good thing. Being Voldemort's... lover/prisoner was infinitely better than being married to a prat like Lucius Malfoy and forced to carry his children.

Narcissa was still watching him coolly. "You will come around to it in time. Good night, Mr Potter."

"Good night, Mrs Malfoy."

"Narcissa, please." She smiled at him and left.

Harry pushed open the door. It was another lavish bedroom, another gilded cage, though he couldn't deny feeling a frisson of pleasure when looking at the large double bed, already thinking of Voldemort in it. God, he was so pathetic, he couldn't stop himself from wanting the man, wanted him so much that he'd forgotten himself and kissed him right in front of Malfoy and his goons.

There was a small noise and Harry realised he wasn't alone. A house-elf was standing in a corner of the room, a silver platter weighted down by many delicious-looking dishes in hands.

"Hello? Do you need help with that?"

The elf carefully laid down his burden on a small table, then bowed deeply. "Dobby cannot believe that Harry Potter is offering to help him. He is just as kind as they said, he truly is!"

"Sorry, but who said I was kind?"

The elf looked at him with large, intelligent eyes. "The other elves did, sir. From the houses where Harry Potter was kept prisoner."