ꜱᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ | ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏɴᴇ

Whispers from the Past, ch. 42

Harmony was graced with a dreamless sleep; up until the end, at least, when she heard rummaging noises around her bed. A loud clank and she jerked awake. It dawned on her then while she perched up on an elbow, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, that she hadn't dreamt the noises. Someone was inside the tent with her.

The tent flap was open an inch. From it she could see it was already morning. A curtain concealed her from the rest of the tent, so whoever it was she couldn't see. A chest by the kitchen creaked open on its hinges followed by a furious ruffling of clothes. The chest snapped closed, a heavy footstep, and then another loud clang as the person bumped into the full platter of fruit she had snacked on last night. An assortment of grapes, pears, and cherries scattered in a mess across the floor.

The man swore.

"Hello?" Harmony called out, her voice groggy with sleep.

The rummaging stopped.

A pregnant pause, and then a familiar hand wrapped around the edge of the curtain concealing her before tugging it aside.

Harmony wanted to sigh with relief but the breath caught in her throat when she stared up at Voldemort.

He hadn't slept a wink. That much was certain by the black bags under his eyes. His shirt was wrinkled and the scent of dirt came off his trousers, almost like he had spent the night in the forest. In his hand he carried a fresh change of clothes and a bar of soap.

Surprise flickered across his tired features. He took in the sight of her lying there in her thin underclothes—the blanket kicked aside, revealing her soft thighs—with her perched above his pillow. He glanced over and saw her own pillow had been left untouched.

By the look on his face, she knew he hadn't been expecting to see her there, much less lying comfortably in their bed. She swallowed hard, looking up at him from beneath her bangs, and tried to think of what to say. Her mind went blank at what they had fought about last night—something about punishing the followers?—but she remembered her conversation with Barty, about his betrayal and his revelation, and she remembered the desire to be back at Voldemort's side that followed soon after.

And now that she was, she was at an utter loss for words.

Yes, he hadn't expected to see her there but he didn't look displeased by it. In fact, his blue eyes softened at the sight of her in this vulnerable state. Harmony sat up on both her hands and a strap of her underdress slipped off her shoulder. Voldemort's hand twitched, his initial reaction being to fix the strap. But he blinked hard and turned away before he could.

"Get dressed," he said with his back to her. "Meet me at the main tent on the hill in fifteen minutes."

"What?" she uttered, frowning.

He returned to his rummaging, picking up the rest of the clothes he needed and stopped every now and then to pluck a piece of fruit into his mouth. "There's a new group of followers ready to be brought into camp. We can't tell them how to get here, of course, because that information could reach unwanted ears, so I have trusted Death Eaters meet them at a designated location and guide them here." His voice then became edged with annoyance. "Usually, my services are not required with these standard pick-ups, but I happened to find the team assigned to it blacked out in drunken stupors on the floor of a recreational tent. Seems they'd celebrated a little too much last night. So…after letting them know just how much I appreciated their lack of accountability and punctuality, I formed another team—albeit a less capable one—and now I must go with them to make sure the job is done right."

She scooted to the end of the bed so she could peer at him around the curtain. "You should have it handled, then. It sounds to me like you don't need my help."