Doomed to be an enemy

It was still dark, and it was as black as ink.There are few stars and no moon.

It's too cold.Harry was wearing a cloak, carrying a box of shrunken files, and slowly approached the brightly lit manor not far away.

This is crazy.

Harry felt as if his heart was being pinched, every nerve, every muscle was tense.He should have come with the guards, or other members of the Order of the Phoenix, during the day, instead of running to Death Eater headquarters alone in the middle of the night.The blood in his bones seems to be very hot, but also seems to be very cold.

"Who?!"

The door was clearly guarded by Death Eaters, and the Stunning Spells they beckoned were deflected by Harry's silent wandless magic.The firelight illuminated his face.

"Potter?" someone said suspiciously.

"It's me." Harry glanced at them calmly, "I want to see Voldemort, on business." When they had a cold war over the name, he gestured to the magic box in his hand.Forgive his rudeness, but Death Eaters mostly liked to wear masks, of course, to keep them warm on windy nights - he understood.

"We were not notified," another Death Eater said hoarsely.They looked around alertly, Harry raised the corners of his lips, "Don't look, it's just me."

"Let him in." The Death Eaters were silent for a moment before one of them moved out of the way.

"Gargson? We can't let him in." "Why not? He sent it to the door by himself. The master may be looking forward to it." "It's easy to say, you have to be responsible for what happens."

Harry politely waited for their argument to end.The Death Eater named Gargson said to him: "Please follow me, Mr. Potter."

Under the silent gaze of the Death Eaters, Harry walked through the door.The dew at night was cold and greasy, and he began to regret not wearing thicker clothes.Obviously, after what happened yesterday, there are more Death Eaters patrolling Malfoy Manor, and the defenses are tight.Solemn boulevards, neat lawns and white peacocks chained by magic in the garden.

Everything here is Malfoy-esque.Even in the dead of winter, a little snow only makes it more beautiful.

Harry stopped several times along the way, to be questioned by the Death Eaters.I don't know if it was his delusion, it seems that they scoffed at Gagson's statement, but the eyes they looked over were suspicious and...cautious?At least not as brazenly as before.

Harry remained calm, and when he insisted on checking the box, he said, "This is the file of the magic recorder. I can only guarantee its authenticity and integrity when it is in my hands." These words are very solemn Leitlin, obviously the person opposite was also shocked for a moment, hesitated for a moment, "Okay, you can go over." But at the same time, four Death Eaters were separated to follow.

When Harry approached the warm living room, Voldemort was already waiting there.

He had evidently been lying in bed not so long ago, wearing a high-necked black robe—with gray silk pajamas peeking out from the cuffs.He was sitting in an armchair, and the fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, which made the place even more shadowy without candlelight.Harry blinked unaccustomed to the darkness, and the Death Eater retreated silently, apparently someone had already told Voldemort of his coming.

"Should I say good evening?"

"Potter, did no one tell you that visiting in the middle of the night is very rude?"

The warmth of the fireplace made Harry approach slowly.He saw Voldemort's hand resting on the armrest, pale and thin, but not holding a wand.This surprised him a little. Voldemort's voice was indiscriminate, his scarlet eyes surveyed him in the dark, the firelight in the fireplace made his face unpredictable, and his thin lips tightly pursed showed his master's displeasure.

"I'm so sorry."

Harry placed the box on the small round table in front of him, and the table creaked under its weight. "This is what you want." He was only two steps away from the other party, and to be honest Harry didn't expect to be so close to him-no hostility.Everything he tensed did not relax, only the words he said seemed indifferent.

"Your letter looks urgent, and the owl wakes me up in the middle of the night."

Yes, that was three hours ago, and Voldemort still remembered that he told the messenger that he must do this.Retribution is coming so fast now.But he won't admit it. "That's your problem, not mine. That's not the reason, maybe it's you that's more urgent."

Harry looked down at him - and applauded the angle: "I want to get this over with as soon as possible. Knowing that the vampires might cause even bigger trouble tomorrow."

"Really? I thought you were afraid of my repentance." Voldemort said softly.

His scarlet eyes looked at Harry suspiciously, "Potter, I'm amazed by your courage. What made you think I wouldn't do it? Huh? Given how much I hate you." Harry's green eyes twinkled. After a little bit of complexity, he opened his mouth and only spit out one word: "Intuition."

Voldemort's disdainful sneer filled the air: "Gryffindor impulse."

Although he was laughing, there was no such emotion in those bright red eyes. "Then, why hasn't a Slytherin like the Dark Lord made a move? Why..." Harry was almost provocative, "You want to save me at that time?" Voldemort didn't answer immediately, his eyes lingering on Harry's body.From his face, to his neck, to his collarbone... Depicting the youthful body through the cloak, he remembered the firm skin his fingers felt when his waist was held in his arms.

"I think I said it." He said slowly, with a sly tone.It made Harry doubt the truth of the statement, but he didn't mind: "So?"

Voldemort's eyes moved back to Harry's face, facing those eyes that were as beautiful as emeralds under the firelight. "So I don't want to say it a second time."

Harry frowned, he didn't know which sentence or which word the other party was referring to.But that didn't matter anymore, when a teenager covered in sheets came down the blanket-covered stairs, Voldemort looked very displeased: "Have I allowed you to go downstairs?"

Harry's eyes froze.The boy has disobedient black hair, but it is not as messy as his own. His face is beautiful and delicate, and his pair of green eyes are astonishingly beautiful.The body under the sheet was covered with ambiguous red marks and bruises.

As if he didn't expect that there was someone in the living room, he let out a low cry and quickly ran upstairs.

Voldemort's complexion was very bad, but he let the young man stumbling back to where he was supposed to go.The living room fell silent.Harry suddenly felt ridiculous: "It seems that I did disturb you, I think I should leave." He heard his own calm voice.

"There are documents I signed in the box. I hope tomorrow's Daily Prophet will have what I want." There was nothing in the emerald green eyes, beautiful and cold under the fire. "After the date is confirmed, the Order of the Phoenix sent a team to Hogwarts to supervise the construction of magic recorders with the Death Eaters and cast spells on the students."

After he finished speaking, he got up and walked towards the door: "Given the bad relationship between us, I don't want to say good night—" "Or good morning." The cold wind penetrated through the opened door, chilling people's bones.Harry confirmed that he was indeed wearing less.The sky was still dark, but a little brighter than before.

It's almost dawn.

The door closed quickly.But it seemed to take away all the warmth in the room. Voldemort's gaze stayed where he had left it. "Winches, come down." He called calmly.The sound carried throughout the house.The boy shivered and shivered under the bed sheet, and walked down step by step. His bare feet almost slipped several times: "Lord..." The voice, not much louder than a cat's meow, was full of fear and trembling.

"Are you scared now?" Voldemort said softly. "I thought you would be a little smarter than the last one."

"Master, spare me——" Winchester knelt down softly, ignoring the slipping of the bed sheet, and crawled to the man's legs in a docile manner.A pale hand cupped his chin, and Voldemort looked at his face: "Why should you be afraid?" The skin under the palm trembled even more.But the green eyes were wide open, looking bravely into those scarlet pupils that terrified wizards, as the Dark Lord had admired in the past.

It took a long time, until Winches was sweating coldly from his back, before he heard the Dark Lord's order: "You know what to do." He put away his delicate face in his hands, and leaned back on the chair.Winchester breathed a sigh of relief, crawled closer, put his mouth on the top buttons of the robe, and deftly undid them, revealing the silk pajamas underneath.A blush rose on his pale face. Voldemort didn't do anything, he watched him suck his already hard place in his mouth, his pale and thin fingers penetrated into the messy black hair, and when Winchester wanted to look up at him, he pressed down hard : "Don't look up."

He stroked the boy's scalp with a cold expression.

When Harry Apparated back to Flamel Manor, his body was frozen stiff by the cold wind.Something was frozen there, sticking to flesh and blood, and he realized it was so painful when he wanted to throw it away.Harry took out his wand and wanted to light the fireplace, but there were people coming and going here later, and he needed a quiet environment.So he turned and went upstairs, and returned to his room as quietly as possible.It was cold as expected, without a trace of warmth.

Ron had gone to tend to an injured Bill last night, so the place was empty.

Harry sat on the bed, his mind a little empty.It seems that the Occlumency that has been going on since an hour ago has not been lifted.He suddenly didn't know what to do, and he didn't feel sleepy at all, and the figure of that boy occasionally flashed in his mind.He finally couldn't help but sneered at himself. Rachel, rescue, and negotiation may all be just the Dark Lord's pleasure. After all, you are so similar to that boy he loves... Don't be silly, Harry, He just wants you to be deluded.

But there was an annoying dull ache in his heart, and Harry wasn't used to himself like this.

He moved his arm, the cold making it look like a rusty part, and it occurred to Harry that he had never had time to learn the Warming Charm.It must be, maybe...it won't be so cold after learning.

There are still a few hours until dawn.

None of his textbooks were here, and Harry didn't want to run to the study.He hesitated, and unfastened the locket from his collar. "Voldemort?" There was no response, and he was a little disappointed.I had to try hard to recall the incantation of the warming spell. "Uh...warmth? warm?" He really couldn't remember which one it was, and taking out his wand and waving it had no effect.Harry sighed, "Could it be getwarm?" Before he finished speaking, there was a warm current around him.

"It's getwarmth, Harry." A laughing voice came, and Harry turned his head to see Voldemort leaning against his quilt, looking at him with a smile. "It's you?" Harry realized that he didn't cast the Warming Charm himself.He picked up Occlumency again, almost exhausted. "Thank you."

Voldemort sat up, crossed his slender legs, and stared at him with scarlet eyes: "You look bad, boy." "I know, that's why I want to practice the Warming Charm." Harry said The corner of his mouth twitched, "It's just that I forgot the spell." "Harry, haven't you noticed something?" Voldemort raised his eyebrows, "I'm almost becoming your Charms professor."

"Really? Just fulfilled your dream of being a professor back then."

Harry gave a forced smile.

Voldemort's face flashed before his eyes, and he began to feel that he had done something stupid again.This made him even more depressed.

"Well, as far as a student is concerned, you're still pretty good." He muttered, pulling himself up to approach Harry. "Need I remind you? I applied for Defense Against the Dark Arts." His breath blew Sharp lips, he took a step back suddenly, "What are you doing?"

Voldemort paused, his scarlet eyes narrowed angrily: "Boy, there is a price to pay for learning from me." This brought Harry back to today's memory. There was a flash of dark rage, and Harry suddenly laughed, a low, chuckle that slowly grew, and he couldn't breathe.No matter what was frozen in the bottom of my heart, it was torn off, and even the flesh of the belt was thrown out.

"Sorry, I don't know what you mean." He leaned against the cabinet and shrugged, there was a place in his heart that felt like a bloody throbbing pain, but he was still smiling, "But I didn't mean that." Voldemort looked at him inexplicably , thinking about something in his scarlet eyes: "You have been stimulated." He said affirmatively, "Did the main soul do something?"

Harry applauded his sharpness, but didn't answer him other than a more rigorous application of Occlumency.

"No, it's just that I'm tired," he said softly, sinking into the soft pillows on Ron's bed - the locket on one side. "Will you go back before I fall asleep?"

"No." Voldemort answered honestly, his voice was close at hand, and Harry blinked, realizing that the other party had already sat by the bed at some point.He reflexively wanted to sit up, but a pale and thin hand pressed his shoulder. "Harry." The cold fingertips touched his cheek, and the temperature there was almost as cold. Harry tried his best to restrain the depression in his heart. You are already embarrassing enough, Harry, don't let the other party see more jokes up.

So he looked at each other calmly. Voldemort's fingers landed on the scar on his forehead, rubbing it a little.Harry was puzzled again by how the scar felt, there was no piercing pain, just a cool, less annoying feeling.The man's expression was a little blank, as if he was lost in thought,

"You're sorry, Harry."

"Forgive my joke just now, I just think you are more energetic when you are angry." Voldemort said after being silent for a while.It took Harry a few seconds to understand what he meant.

"That's your freedom," he said.

"I said, I can give you everything." He murmured softly, and there was something Harry couldn't understand in Voldemort's eyes, "This promise is always valid."

Harry looked away and couldn't help but say, "But I can't give you what you want."

"No, Harry. You have given me more than you can imagine. And I have nothing in return." Voldemort showed a smile, sly and charming, "If you still have the spirit, maybe you can learn from you before dawn." The warming spell you want." Harry stared at him hesitantly: "I will not agree to your conditions."

"I know."

"And I'm not very smart."

"But you have the best professors in the world."

Under Voldemort's soft-spoken explanation, the dismantling, origin, and variants of the Warmth Charm itself, which required reading through books, were easily understood and memorized by Harry. He even explained the essentials of silent and wandless magic. "It's warm!" Harry waved his wand, and the cold air became warm and hot. Voldemort took his hand: "You're pushing too hard, relax." His voice was right next to his ear, and Harry lowered it according to his words. The magic power was output, so the temperature became suitable, and the cold was completely dispelled.

Voldemort sighed inwardly, sure enough the boy could use this kind of white magic with twice the result with half the effort.

Harry smiled, and Voldemort said in a timely manner: "You can try silent spells, and silent wandless magic." When the power of the spell was almost gone, Harry tried these two, and after three or four times, the air was hot again up. "Good, very good."

Voldemort also laughed, "You are the fourth person in this century to master silent and wand magic so quickly."

"the fourth?"

"Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and me." Voldemort couldn't help but said, "You are the fourth." This compliment is a bit exaggerated.Harry was a little embarrassed for a moment: "Because I have the best professor, right."

Voldemort's smile deepened, his scarlet eyes were beautiful and charming: "Yes, Harry."