ꜱᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ | ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏɴᴇ

Serpentine, ch. 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Voldemort fought against the invisible barrier that kept him from approaching his mother and that dirty gargoyle of a Muggle. He was hopeless to watch while his father harmed his mother on the bed.

The first time he had the dream it nearly drove him insane, unable to save his mother from his father's cruelty. If they had been any other couple, he couldn't have cared less about what they did in their own home. But this woman was his mother, an heir to Salazar Slytherin. He wished he could grip his hands around Thomas Riddle's pale neck and squeeze. The dream happened so often, he knew there was nothing he could do.

The same thing happened every time, only the pain and anguish always renewed itself, like opening an old wound. Riddle would hit her, she would beg him to stop, and then Voldemort would call out to her. Merope would tell him to "save the heir." He never understood what she meant. He asked her every single time, only to wake up in his bed unanswered.

On this particular occasion, however, it was especially difficult-he was desperate for the answer, and he felt that he was closer than ever to getting it. He woke with the image of his mother's beautiful, pained face fresh in his mind. He felt a convulsion in his stomach and had to breathe deeply until the wave of nausea passed. When he cleared his mind and felt ready to sleep again, Voldemort tried to roll onto his left side to face Harmony. But as he turned, something light on his chest kept him from moving. Suprised, he nearly reached for his wand on impulse to cast it away.

He couldn't see in the dark room, so he put a hand on whatever it was to get a feel of the shape. He felt silky cloth and warm, soft skin. His hand jerked away when he realized it was her arm he'd been squeezing. She must have rolled over in her sleep. Her head had fallen off her pillow and came to rest on his own.

Her body heat brought warmth where she curled up against him, and for a fleeting moment, Voldemort felt-not alone. A rare warmth welled up from within, making him realize that he was in possession of someone he could share absolutely everything with; a perfect affinity.

Right then there was no past, no future, just the present. He felt all this in the briefest of moments, before he was sucked back into reality with the thought that if she'd been any other woman, he would have swatted her hand away angrily and left. But Harmony was not just any woman. She was different.

Voldemort wanted to go back to sleep, but if he rolled over onto his side then Harmony's hand might fall and wake her. So he flexed every muscle from his toes to the top of his head, then relaxed with a contented sigh and went back to sleep.

Harmony woke with a start when she felt someone touching her. She was drowsy from sleep, but even then she could feel Master running his hand up her left arm to cup her shoulder. She found herself curled up flush against him with his left elbow jabbing her stomach, his knuckles pressed against her thigh.

She intended to wait until he was back asleep before moving as far away from him in the bed as possible. But right that moment she didn't dare move a muscle. She could feel the rapid hammering of her heart, and she did her best to ignore it by making her breaths shallow as they would be if she were actually asleep.

However, as she waited for him to slip off back into sleep, her mind drifted, and before she knew it, she was dreaming again.

When they woke in the morning, Voldemort wasn't shy to relieve himself of her appendages. And with her face burning in embarrassment, she huddled away from his side of the bed and brought her knees to her chest protectively.

She watched him dress. To ease the silence, she said, "I had a dream about Hogwarts last night."

"You, too?" Master asked tiredly while he slipped on his robes. "I dream of Hogwarts often. It was the only place where I ever felt truly at home."

"I was in the library," she said, and added longingly, "I miss it there."

Master looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Don't you find my own library here sufficient?"

"Oh, yes, of course! I only meant that, well, the Hogwarts's library is different somehow. The way I feel when I'm there, the smell of the parchment and all, it just makes me feel-"

"Content?"

"Perfectly content." She grinned.

"I understand." He sat in his chair before the fire to put on his shoes. "If that's the case, I wonder why you did not end up in Ravenclaw House." He smiled teasingly over at her.

Harmony asked herself the same question many times before. The answer always came down to her friends; she couldn't imagine being in a separate House as them. But then it occurred to her Voldemort meant the accusation as a jest. Of course, he must have assumed Snape retrieved her from his Slytherin House.

Harmony stood up quickly, as if she was offended by the remark. "If I had been in Ravenclaw, then I would not even be here, would I?"

"N-" Master began, but Harmony had already left the room in a hurry. "No," he finished as he watched her go. With a satisfied smirk, he left his chair and followed her down to the lesson hall.

They went right to work on the Cascadia and by midday Harmony could sustain her charm for a whole minute. But Voldemort was far from satisfied by this.

"That will only protect you from petty spells, if you are even quick enough to block them," he complained. The harshness in his voice took Harmony aback. He had seemed calmer this morning, but the more intense the lessons were, the more agitated he became.

Harmony easily deduced that he was impatient for her to learn the Cascadia Maxima to awaken the rest of the magic in her blood, but the increased pressure didn't make it any easier for her. She almost came to tears when he yelled at her. They didn't even know if she could produce a Maxima at all.

This is only the second day, Harmony thought dejectedly. She looked at Master's angry eyes and wondered what he would do if she was unable to awaken the magic at all. He looked on the verge of throwing a fit.

"You know what I want, Harmony," he growled at her. "I know you have the power to do it. Now try again."

Harmony closed her eyes and tried to focus.

"Can't you do anything?" Master yelled when she failed yet again.

Maybe I can't, she thought hotly, but she held her tongue. Never before had she told herself that she couldn't do anything-that she wasn't capable. She just had to keep trying.

The entire-unsuccessful-day left her frustrated, and by the end she was ready to go sleep in her own room again. But he wouldn't let her. Even when he was pinch-faced with anger, he still placed a hand on the small of her back when she turned to go to her own room and directed her back to his side. They went to bed without saying a word; no "goodnight," no "better luck tomorrow." No matter how he felt toward her, it appeared he wouldn't let her be anywhere else but at his side.