To EIEN07, more thank you's. XD LOL, those two falling in love in a girly way would be... like Harry/Ginny in canon. Yuck. Like Clarice falling for Krendler. Like Paris Hilton and Alice Cooper. Like Cartman being genuinely nice to Kyle. Like the cow eating the piranha. Like... point made, I guess. Anyway, Grindelwald is not really in this chapter, but you'll get to see more of my description of him soon, too.

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Standstill, Asphyxiating

Chapter 15

"Thank you for the bathing oils and stuff, by the way," said Lavender, preparing herself a bowl of cereal. Harry had joined her for breakfast while Voldemort was waiting upstairs for her to leave.

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, frowning.

"The things you put next to me last night," the other Auror said in a slow and clear voice as if she were talking to a child. "Thank you. Although you wouldn't have needed to get up just to bring me that, really. Or were you sleepwalking?" She laughed. "You look as if you had no idea what I'm talking about."

"Oh." Harry understood. His phantom must have gotten up at night and done... something. At least the Lord had stayed true to his word in that he had not let Lavender see him. "That, yeah, sure."

"What should we do about Cho and Julius now?" asked Lavender.

"I don't know," said Harry, "why do you think he kidnapped them, anyway? I mean, that must have had a reason."

Lavender shrugged and shook her head helplessly. "I know as much as you do."

"It does seem to be related to their work, though... perhaps there was something more to that empty room you came across."

"Well, it was empty, but that might have any reason. There was a kind of mold in the middle, though."

"A mold? You didn't say anything about that."

"I didn't think it mattered."

"All details matter. There's a mold in the Death Chamber... there was not an arch with a veil on it, though, was there?"

Lavender shook her head. "No such thing."

They were interrupted by a scratching noise at the door.

"What's that?" Lavender wondered.

"Oh, the cat..." Harry made up quickly, "Wait here, I'll take care of her. Still gotta feed her."

"I didn't know you had a cat, Harry," said Lavender, beaming, "I love cats."

"Yeah, mine is really shy, though... extremely scared of strangers, so you might not get to see her. She usually stays in my room."

"Oh..." Lavender looked a little sad. "Well, I'll be off in a minute, anyway, so see ya later."

"Take care." Harry left, opening the door only as far as he had to in order to slip through. Glaring, he grabbed Voldemort's arm and dragged him up the stairs in a rush and into the first room of the upper hall, his study.

"What the hell?" he demanded.

Voldemort regarded him with a disdainful look, demonstratively rubbing his arm. "Would you have preferred me to come in and say what I have to say?"

"Of course not, but any normal person would have waited."

"For you to leave with her and then return in - how many hours?"

"Oh, whatever... what is it?"

"I could not help but to overhear your conversation..." Harry snorted at this, earning himself another glare. Voldemort leaned against Harry's desk and continued, "You should let her show you a memory of that room with the mold, if she's not gone yet, go and get it now, then come back and I'll explain why."

"You have an idea, don't you?" asked Harry.

The dark wizard nodded, and Harry raced down the stairs, just in time to catch Lavender pulling on her coat. He held her back and asked for the memory, provisorily giving her a salad bowl to put it into. Lavender waited until Harry surfaced from the memory bowl.

"That's the same room, I think," he said, "Only without the veil..."

"The room where your godfather..." Lavender broke off, "Sorry."

"Never mind... yeah, that room."

"You know how there was apparently something that had gone missing, so do you think it could be that? But what would anyone need it for?"

"I don't know... You go to the Ministry now, and I'll also see if I can find anything out, okay?"

"You're not coming?"

"Maybe later... Kitty needs me now." And with that, Harry rushed back upstairs.

Lavender stared after him before she shrugged and left.

"Looks like that really is the Chamber of Death... or at least a room that looks a lot alike," Harry told Voldemort who had in the meantime taken a seat in Harry's chair. "So what do you think?"

"That this entire thing makes absolute sense now."

"How so?" Harry sat down on the edge of his desk, listening with interest.

"The Veil of Death has been gone for quite a while now, has it not? You told me about this when I was still locked up in that horribly restraining room... anyway, it absolutely fits with all the information you could give me. That was not enough for me to be able to read much out of it at the time, but in light of these new facts I would say that it was sufficient to be able to say with near certainty that it really was the Veil of Death that they managed to lose there. More like, that whoever helped Grindelwald to come back must have taken."

"How's that connected?"

"Do you know how the Veil of Death works, Harry?"

"You fall through it and you die."

"Yes, but that is not its only quality. Augustus Rookwood, my spy among the Unspeakables, told me some more. Basically, it is an open gate between the realms of life and death. From this side, it is more than easy to cross to the other side. As you said, you simply fall, or walk, through. However, from the other side... you would need a connection, such as a Horcrux. This was one possibility I considered for my rebirth, but in the end I thought it would be easier to get the ingredients I needed for the ritual Wormtail performed for me than to get access to the Veil, with only two servants that could not be allowed to be seen in public, and with one of whom being a spineless moron."

Harry laughed at that description of Wormtail.

"You would need at least one Horcrux, not only to hold up the connection to life, but also it would have to be there when you perform the ritual, and a sacrifice."

"What kind of sacrifice?"

"A human one. Your friend said that Grindelwald appeared very young now, did she not? They must have used a young person, then. They provide the body, see? You did not have that problem resurrecting me, because you still had my intact body, but they would have needed to make an exchange. Could have used anyone, really, even a muggle."

"So someone stole it to bring him back, then. And Cho and her husband..."

"Were working there, were they not? So either they have something to do with it and faked their disappearance, or they stumbled upon something and had to be silenced."

Harry chewed on his lip, taking this in. "Makes sense, indeed. So what should we do now?"

"What do you want to do? Keep yourself safe, the rest is not your responsibility."

"Of course it is, it's everyone's responsibility. People have to look out for each other, that's the only way things work."

"Primarily, people have to look out for themselves, Harry. They don't need you to destroy yourself saving them. And if they really are incapable of taking care of themselves, then they are not even worth it."

"Sure, you would see it that way."

"Harry... You have far more responsibility to me than to anyone else. That is more than enough. Don't let me down in favor of some common, replaceable people that are not even close to you. Trust me, the world is going to keep spinning even if you refrain from indulging in your urges to save it."

Harry scowled. He supposed Voldemort had a point about what Hermione had so fittingly called his 'people-saving-thing', but he just could not, and did not want to, see it with that much distance.

"I ask you, Harry... you have enough reason to hold me in higher regard than anyone else. There is nobody closer to you than me. So I ask you to act like it. Be there for me first of all, not for the entire rest of the planet."

"I'm not one of your Death Eaters," Harry said sullenly.

"I know you are not." Voldemort reached out to Harry, ran a hand across his back. "They were nothing but mere servants, lapdogs following my orders without question. You are much more special. You matter. None of the Death Eaters would ever have mattered to me enough to care so much about their safety."

"Yeah, I matter to you because I keep you alive."

"Would you believe me if I told you that you matter to me as a person?"

"No."

"There will be no point in saying that, then. Do think about it, though... Even if I was not so dependent on you, who else would I have that I see as worthy enough to touch me like I allow you to?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Only you, Harry..." the Lord whispered, continuing to caress Harry's back, "Only ever you."

Harry said nothing, merely continued to chew his lip, all thoughts cleared from his head.

"Stay here?" asked Voldemort, "You don't have anything better to do, anyway, do you?"

Harry looked at him. "Fine."

"Good. Let's see... just how much do you know about Horcruxes, Harry?"

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"Look, it worked! Ha!" gloated Julius, "Come to bed, honey."

"Wow," said Cho, "We seem to have rather nice captors. Kinda."

"Yeah, now the only thing that's missing is for them to let us out... or at least tell us what the hell they want from us."

Elena listened to the conversation from outside the room. She would like to tell them, apologize and let them out... but how could she know if they would be cooperative? She didn't feel much like finding out - if not, she would have to kill them, despite that she felt a sense of obligation to them. She had in a way pulled them into this, after all.

Karina tapped her on the shoulder. "You can't influence what happens to them, El," she said softly, "It is their decision. Let them make it."

"They're my prisoners," said Elena, "He gave me the responsibility for them. I'm not ready to do this... I think it's best if we wait a bit and treat them well, let them see we don't mean them harm if they don't mean any to us, you know?"

"As you said, El... they are your prisoners."

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"Last time, the problems with Grindelwald concerned mostly the continent, not Britain... I'm hoping it will be the same now," Percy said.

"And if so, the people outside of Britain don't matter, or what?" Lavender raised an eyebrow.

"Of course they do. I spoke to the International Convention... they were rather skeptical, but really, it is up to them now what they make of it. We can only do what is best for us, and that means keeping up national safety first of all."

Lavender frowned, but even though she only partly agreed, she concluded that the Minister had a point she could hardly argue.

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A few weeks later, Harry excused himself almost immediately after coming home only to tell Voldemort that he was going to meet with Ron and Hermione in the Three Broomsticks and perhaps come back very late. Since their discovery about Grindelwald being back, things had gone rather smoothly. Neither had any new problems come up, nor had any old ones been solved, except for Lavender finding a new apartment and warding it with Harry's assistance. There had also been a wave of goblin flu affecting almost everyone in the Ministry, with the exception of Harry, which had caused a large series of running jokes about his infamous luck.

Both Harry and Lavender had fully complied with Percy's request and told nobody of what they knew, although in Harry's case that had taken a lot of intense talking-at from Voldemort.

"Madame Rosmerta is still damn hot for her age, don't you think?" whispered Ron to Harry while the barmaid was taking Hermione's order.

Harry nodded absently. "Yeah, nice," he whispered back.

That particular conversation died immediately as soon as Hermione turned back to them. "How are you dealing, Harry?" she asked sympathetically, leaning forward.

"Dealing, with what?" asked Harry, initially confused, "Oh - you mean about Ginny? I'm okay, let's not talk about that... anyway, how is she? Is she still seeing Dean?"

"Yeah, they're getting pretty close," said Ron, still squinting out of the corner of his eyes at the barmaid's behind.

"I'm happy for them," Hermione added, "Did you know... Just last week, Dean asked her to come with him to Marseilles over Christmas, together with the children, even."

"Wow, Christmas, that's soon..." Harry said, "So is she going, then?"

"Yes," said Hermione, "Sorry I told you, if it bothers you..."

"It doesn't bother him, right, Harry?" Ron looked at Harry in search for affirmation. "He agreed that Ginny should be happy with somebody else."

"Exactly," said Harry, "I'm glad she has Dean now."

Hermione looked a bit doubtful, so Harry added quickly, "What are they doing in Marseilles, anyway?"

"You know how Dean is an artist now?" asked Hermione, "He has a job there, apparently portraying an entire family..."

"Sounds good," said Harry.

"They are some foreign relatives of our beloved Malfoys, though," Ron informed Harry disdainfully, "Most likely rich, stuck-up purebloods as well..."

"You don't even know them, Ron," scolded Hermione, "They might not be as bad as the Malfoys we know. Shows how qualified Dean is, though... if an old pureblood family is willing to engage a known muggleborn for the job, he must be good."

"He is," said Ron, "Always was, but he's a real pro now. He showed me some of his works when I brought Lily over."

"Why did you bring Lily to Dean?" Harry asked.

"Had to go to work, and Ginny was at Dean's... so really, I brought her to Ginny."

Hermione's eyes turned full of pity as she addressed Harry again. "You miss them, don't you? The children?"

Harry looked down and played with his fingernails, the same way the Lord sometimes did when trying to act unfazed. "Yeah, kinda. It's okay, though... I know Ginny is a great mother."

"I know you made a mistake, Harry," insisted Hermione, "And you probably feel really guilty about it, but she can't keep them away from you if you really want to see them."

Ron glared at Hermione, and lightly kicked her shin under the table to make her stop.

"I said it is okay, Hermione," repeated Harry tiredly, "You don't know exactly what happened between her and me. You were not there. If she wants me on the other side of the planet from them, I understand, and I will not make this any more complicated or hurt her any more."

Hermione pursed her lips and glared back at Ron for kicking her, but she saw that there was no point in pursuing this matter any further.

"How are you celebrating Christmas?" she asked Harry instead.

"Oh, home alone with me, myself and I, I guess."

"Bullshit, you can come celebrate with us," said Ron, "You're still practically family."

"Thanks, Ron... I really appreciate that, but I think this year I'd really rather be on my own." Harry would not at all have minded another Christmas with the Weasleys, but he was certain that the Lord would mind very much. On the subject... he still had to come up with an idea of what to give him as a present.

"Okay," said Ron disappointedly, "If you change your mind, though, the offer still stands."

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When Harry came home, he found Voldemort already asleep, which was a very rare thing. Usually the Lord tended to sleep only when Harry did.

Harry turned a dimmed nightlight on and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, taking care not to disturb the dark wizard's sleep. He liked watching him sleep. These were the only times he could see his lover without the guards he constantly kept up during every waking moment.

Voldemort had once again put Harry's clothes on, and was curled up more on top of the sheets than under them, clutching the pillow tightly. He seemed to have subconsciously sensed Harry's presence, because he muttered something unintelligible.

Harry leaned closer and strained his ears to understand.

"... did it all for you, my Harry..." he could make out, "... you don't understand... nothing... mine..."

Harry sighed lowly, crawled to the side of the slight figure and pulled the sheets over both of them.

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"I didn't notice you coming," said Voldemort the next morning.

"You were already sleeping, so I decided not to wake you," Harry told him, "You're sort of cute when you sleep, do you know that?"

"Ah... and when I am awake, what about then?"

Harry grinned. "Not really, no."

"What makes the difference?" Voldemort seemed genuinely interested.

"This whole evil-bastard-attitude of yours... you know, it sorta goes missing."

"And that is a good thing, I take it?"

"Yep." Harry pecked Voldemort on the cold lips and jumped out of bed to get ready for another day. The Lord immediately followed, slipping back into his routine of watching Harry's every step.

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Harry left the Ministry early that day to wander through the Wizarding Alleys and find something to give Voldemort for Christmas. He bought several new black robes, making a point of picking only the finest, most comfortable materials.

Then he continued to browse through the other shops, figuring that he also needed something more special, or more personal.

More books, harmless kinds of potions ingredients, any other kind of everyday items... Harry gave those things to Voldemort whenever he asked, anyway. So what he needed was something that Harry would not normally give him...

Harry chuckled when he thought that the best present he could give the Lord would be to let him leave the house. He even considered that option for a moment, in light of how cooperatively Voldemort had been acting recently, but he quickly discarded that idea. Not worth the risk, although Harry even enjoyed playing with the thought.

A pet? There was nothing concretely speaking against that, but there was something about the idea that did not go well with Harry. If he was truly honest with himself, he liked having Voldemort only to himself. He didn't want to share his lover's full attention, not even with a pet.

This was not one of Harry's more noble traits shining through, but he felt much too good being the only thing the other wizard had left.

He pulled the hood of his cloak deep into his face when he took the turn into Knockturn Alley, slowly sauntering down the street and looking at the displays in the dusty windows. He nearly walked past Borgin and Burkes', but then stopped and decided to look inside. It wouldn't surprise him if they had something interesting in store.

The old Borgin was there sitting behind the couter, sparing Harry only a glance as he entered and then ignored him, sensing that his customer did not desire his services yet. Harry looked around indecisively, trying to figure out the purpose of the displayed items.

A rusty, old set of cutlery caught his eye. It was placed on a square-cut pillow, with a sign next to it that had fallen over. Harry wondered why a dark artifacts shop would sell something like this, and why he should not touch it. He reached out to pick a fork up and examine it more closely.

Too late, Borgin called out, "Don't touch that!"

Harry quickly put the fork back down, turned around and asked, "Why not?"

Borgin sprung up from his seat and rushed over, all color gone from his face. "Merlin, you - you touched it..." he stammered horrifiedly.

"So?" asked Harry, confused. He supposed that picking anything in this shop up was indeed a potentially bad idea, but nothing had happened... had it? Harry put the sign next to the cutlery back into place. 'DO NOT TOUCH, POISONS AT SKIN CONTACT', it read.

"Ooops..." said Harry sheepishly.

"I don't get it," breathed Borgin, "You touched it... You should be dead..."

"I feel fine," Harry told him, which was true, "Should I better go to the hospital? What is that, anyway?"

"Goblin-made cutlery, imbibed with Basilisk venom and acid..." muttered Borgin, still shell-shocked, "How...? It's highly deadly, how can you be fine?"

Harry shrugged.

Borgin looked at him as if expecting him to keel over dead at any second. "And you're... still feeling alright?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Er... yes?" Harry was a bit scared now. "So far, at least..."

"Hm... if nothing happened yet, I don't think it will," said Borgin, "I don't get it, though... You did pick it up... that was not just my imagination, was it?"

"Yes... but only for a second."

"That should still have killed you... sorry about the warning sign, by the way... didn't know it had fallen over."

Harry waved it off. "Never mind, nothing happened after all... I hope. Guess I was really lucky there."

"Really lucky... that was a miracle, that was." Only now did Borgin really look at Harry's face. His eyes went wide again. "Harry Potter," he breathed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know what my name is, thank you very much," he told Borgin coldly.

The old man regained his composure. "My apologies, sir... I did not expect to see you here in my shop... is there a reason why you are here, anything I can help you with?"

"Not at this time," said Harry, "I am merely looking around. If I should require your assistance, I will tell you so."

"Of course, sir," Borgin said, evidently relieved that Harry had not come on duty, and scurried back to his chair behind the counter.

"That somewhat explains it, at least..." Harry heard him mutter to himself, "Never dies..."

Highly tempted to roll his eyes again, Harry continued to look around.

"What are these for?" he wondered a few minutes later, pointing at a glass full of what looked like white leeches.

Borgin looked up. "You touch them with your wand and put them on somebody's skin while they're distracted, they'll eat themselves into the flesh and you can track them."

"Ah, okay... don't people notice if something eats its way into them?"

"Not those... they numb the immediate area, and it's actually more as if they melt flowingly into the flesh."

"Okay... I think I'll take a couple of those, but I'm still looking for something else."

"Anything in particular that you need?"

"Not really... I'm looking for a present for someone, I just haven't got a clue what I should take."

"Someone with a taste for the darker side of magic, then, if you are looking here?"

"Yes." Harry didn't feel like elaborating.

"A friend, if I may ask?"

"Something like that."

"Not my concern, I understand," the shopkeeper said and scratched his head, "Hm, let me think..."

"I would like something original," Harry told him.

"Wait a moment," Borgin went into the back room, presumably to fetch something.

Harry waited. Borgin had already been gone for about five minutes when the door opened, and another customer entered, purposefully striding over to the counter without taking notice of Harry, who, dressed entirely in black, was practically merging with the shadows of the cabinets that he was standing in between.

Harry would have recognized that platinum blonde head anywhere. "Oi, Malfoy!" he called.

Draco startled, and whirled around. "Potter?" he asked, taken aback, "What are you doing here?"

"Hm... what could I be doing here?" Harry pretended to think hard. "Shopping, maybe?"

"Right," Draco sneered, and leaned against the counter. "I could have guessed that much, I just didn't expect to see Saint Potter in such a shady place. Go ahead, then, I'll wait till you're done."

"I wasn't going to hold you up," said Harry in a haughty manner that would have done his lover proud, "Borgin is looking for something, I think, but apart from that... it is polite of you to wait for me to be done first, I have to admit, but not at all necessary."

Draco clenched his jaw, nodded jerkily but remained standing at the counter, pointedly looking into the other direction. That did nothing to dampen Harry's mood, and he merrily proceeded to examine the contents of a showcase.

"Wife left you, didn't she, Potter?"

"Yep," Harry said cheerfully.

"Finally came to your senses, then? Took you long enough. Or was it the Weaselette that had the glorious inspiration to run away and cause even more shame first? The papers were not all-too clear about that."

Harry was spared an answer when Borgin reappeared.

"Good day, Mr Malfoy," the old man said to Draco, "I will be there for you in a moment." He turned to Harry. "And as for you, Mr Potter, thank you for your patience... would this serve your purpose?"

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A/N: About the scene at the end and the (mild) hostility between Harry and Malfoy, I am aware that after DH they are not strictly enemies the way they used to be, but the two will never be the best of friends, either.