Clothed and Seeming

A/N: Oy. I\'ve never written anything like this. I just hope this
makes sense in the end.

\"Wear the grudge like a crown of negativity
Calculate what we will or will not tolerate
Desperate to control all and everything
Unable to forgive your scarlet lettermen…-- Tool, \"The Grudge\"

~~*~~

Miles away, as an old love rekindled itself, a young boy of sixteen
was currently sitting in his bedroom, quill and parchment in his
hand.

Said boy was also angry at the moment. No, he was beyond angry. He
was furious. Livid, in fact.

Nursing a bruised jaw and a body that was sore from Vernon and
Dudley\'s latest round of \"fun\" at his expense, Harry Potter was
thinking about everything he had gone through his entire life.

Orphaned at one year old, he grew up in this house, with relatives
who actively despised him. He was less than human to the Dursleys. A
slave, lower than a house elf, and nothing more. And he couldn\'t
even defend himself, since were he to perform magic, he could be
expelled from Hogwarts, what he had thought was his only sanctuary.

He wasn\'t so sure anymore.

He\'d confessed it all to the Headmaster twelve months ago, at the
end of his fifth year. He knew that they had known of his living in
the cupboard under the stairs for eleven years—his first Hogwarts
letter had been addressed that way. But the reaction of Dumbledore
when he\'d admitted the rest—the chores, half-starvation, and \"Harry
hunting\" of his cousin and his friends, and then finally the
beatings, which had started after the incidents with Aunt Marge and
the Ton Tongue Toffee—had stunned him.

Dumbledore had told him that despite the treatment, it was for the
best that he remain at 4 Privet Drive, as the wards there were
stronger than anywhere else, save Hogwarts itself, but the school
wasn\'t a place for students over the summer, so he couldn\'t stay.
Since it was only two months, the Headmaster reasoned, Harry could
endure his time with his Muggle relatives, then come back to school
for the year.

The final straw had come tonight.

He\'d written to Dumbledore one week ago, after Uncle Vernon, in a
drunken stupor, had beaten Harry once again, and had, for the first
time, tried to sexually assault him before passing out cold before
he could do anything. He\'d had to lie to his Aunt, telling her that
Vernon had been punishing him and had fallen asleep mid rant, and
she had him drag the fat bastard to bed and leave him there, clothes
and all.

He\'d begged to be allowed to leave. He no longer felt safe in the
home, especially now that his Uncle had tried to force himself on
him. It was only a matter of time before the man succeeded if Harry
stayed, and he wanted to go anywhere else. The Burrow, Diagon Alley,
didn\'t matter. Anywhere but here.

Dumbledore\'s letter came tonight, denying his request. Again. Since
it was only a few weeks until Harry started his seventh year, he
could survive, the Headmaster said.

He was so angry right now, that writing the letter took longer than
it should have, but finally he finished. Reading it over one last
time, he was satisfied, and he quietly woke Hedwig, tying the
envelope to her leg and letting her go.

Since he had shrunken his trunk and most of his belongings on the
train before returning home, it was just a matter of placing
everything he needed into his robes, and after dispatching his owl,
the Boy Who Lived grabbed his Firebolt and put on his invisibility
cloak, quietly sneaking out of the Dursley home for the last time,
and he kicked off in flight, vowing never to return to Surrey, or to
the life he\'d been forced to live all these years.

~~*~~

A while later, Harry landed right outside the Leaky Cauldron and
made his way in, greeting Tom, the landlord, and discreetly securing
the best room in the small inn with the money he\'d brought, paying
rent in advance for one week.

Taking a small meal and a butterbeer on a tray with him, Harry made
his way to his room with the kind owner by his side and after
thanking his friend, he went in as the older man put several locking
and silencing charms in place, as well as a distraction charm, which
would not allow anyone to bother Harry unless Harry knew they were
coming.

Tomorrow morning, Harry would go to Gringott\'s and get some money
from his vault, buy himself a new wardrobe, and get his vision
corrected. Then he would wait for the results of his letter and find
out what direction his life would take from now on.

Quickly eating his soup and sandwich and having his drink, the young
green eyed boy changed into a nightshirt and went to sleep, finally
feeling at peace with himself. He was in control for once. It would
all turn out for the best.

~~*~~

It was late in the evening, and Lucius and Tom were in bed, the
scent of sex and passion in the air, and the two men wrapped up in
each other. It had been so long. So very, very long. And they were
together again.

They were about to nod off for the night when a light rapping at the
window alerted the pair to an outside presence.

Grabbing his robe and pulling his wand, Lucius got up from the bed
and made his way to the balcony to see who would bother them at such
a late hour. Seeing a large, snowy owl perched, serenely awaiting an
invite in, Lucius cautiously opened the latch and allowed the bird
to come in.

Hedwig made her way into the bedchamber, intriguing both the Dark
Lord and the Death Eater, and they waited for her to calmly perch on
a chair and extend her leg, waiting for the envelope to be taken.
She then flew to a perch located on the opposite side of the room
and hooted once in acknowledgement of the two men, then buried her
face under her wing, falling asleep quietly.

Looking at each other in surprise, they wondered who would send a
letter to them.

\"It is addressed to you, Tom,\" said Lucius as he carefully broke the
wax seal and began to scan the contents.

\"Oh, my…this is interesting,\" smirked the blonde as he read
further. \"Very interesting indeed. I think you will want to see
this, my Lord. I believe we have found ourselves an unlikely new
ally.\"

\"An ally, you say?\" asked the Dark Lord in curiosity. \"Who, Lucius?\"

Turning to his lover, the blonde wizard grinned. \"Why, the Boy Who
Lived, of course. Harry Potter himself.\"

Crimson eyes twinkling in delight, the Dark Lord smiled broadly, and
said, \"Really? Do tell. Let me read that letter, Lucius,\" he
commanded softly.

\"Of course, Tom,\" whispered the long haired man as he planted a
brief kiss on his lover\'s lips and handed the parchment over to his
Lord, who walked to the couch near the fireplace and began to read.

Voldemort—

Or should I call you Tom? I\'m not sure anymore. On the one hand, I
should, by rights, hate you passionately, and I admit that on many
levels, I do. You killed my parents. Your servant betrayed them and
framed my godfather, sentencing him to a life in the hell of Azkaban
until he escaped. You killed a classmate of mine. You\'ve made every
single year of my schooling at Hogwarts hell, though you are not to
blame entirely for that. There is more, but I won\'t speak of it now.

The path that my life has taken these past sixteen years has been
almost entirely because of you.

On the other hand, I have done quite a bit of thinking this past
year, and in particular this summer, and I think I can understand
you and your motives more clearly now. At least I think I do. We\'re
a lot alike, you and I, aside from looks and parselmouth ability.
We\'re both orphans. Both with a desire to prove themselves, and both
with ample reason not to like Muggles. Thus far, our approaches have
been very different, but recent events in my life, which I will not
discuss in writing, have made me think about a lot of things.

Now, before your ego gets the better of you, let me make this clear.
This is not a letter of surrender. I won\'t be your minion, and I
won\'t be your slave. I refuse to wear your Mark, or to kill in your
name. If anything should come from this letter, it will be with the
two of us meeting on equal terms, person to person.

This is also not, despite whatever you may think, some damned
Gryffindor notion of nobility, sacrificing myself for the greater
good of humanity, or of trying to convince you to become a sweet,
pure, innocent being. Neither of those things are particularly
appealing, nor are they realistic. This is more of a strategic
move.

Instead, what I am offering is an alliance. You want to control the
wizarding world. I want to live my life on my terms, at peace for a
change, without having to worry about you constantly targeting me,
with freedom and happiness for those I love, and I want to be free
of the expectations of others to kill you, no matter how appealing
the idea may be at times.

It is my firm belief that we can help each other out.

If this sounds intriguing to you, send a reply with my owl, Hedwig.
Where I am right now is of no importance. She will find me.

And please—give both of us some credit. I wasn\'t put up to this by
Dumbledore, nor will there be Aurors attempting to trace this
letter. Give me the same courtesy and call your Death Eaters off
until we have talked. We might just reach some common ground, and it
would be a shame to let some hexes and curses get in the way, don\'t
you agree?

I look forward to hearing what you have to say.

Yours,
Harry Potter

\"My, my, my…\" said Voldemort, as he finished reading the words on
the page. \"What do you make of this, Lucius?\"

\"He seems sincere, my Lord, though his actual motives are what give
me pause,\" answered the steel eyed man. \"What does he mean by a
strategic alliance? What does he have, or what does he know that he
can offer us? If he has no desire to join our side, or to wear the
Mark, then what does he want?\"

\"I have to admit, I\'m not sure myself, but I think hearing the boy
out is in order. You and I shall go, and perhaps Severus as well,
since he teaches the boy, and would know him better than either of
us,\" said the Dark Lord. \"Now, it seems I owe our friend here a
reply. If you will give me a moment in my study?\" he asked.

\"Of course,\" replied Lucius as he shucked off his robe and made his
way back to the bed they shared. Before walking out, Tom leaned over
and gave his lover a deep, hungry kiss, full of promise. \"I won\'t be
long, my love.\"

\"I\'ll be here,\" said the blonde, and he settled in as the ruby eyed
man made his way to a room across the hall.

Sitting at his ornate oak desk, Tom pulled out some ink and
parchment and began to collect his thoughts. What would he say to
this boy? How should he approach this?

After a few minutes of contemplation, he dipped his quill in ink and
began to write.

My dearest Harry—

First off, please call me Tom. If we are to work together, I would
like for us to be on a first name basis. Voldemort is a name for the
world at large, meant to inspire fear and to make people cower in my
presence. For you, however, I will make an exception and allow you
my first name, since I use yours.

That said, I must admit I am curious about why you would write to
me, of all people. The man who, by your own admission, killed your
parents and who has over the years contributed to a large amount of
your personal misery. It is my curiosity that is motivating this
letter.

What exactly are you wanting from me? If it\'s not about surrender,
or about joining me, or serving me, or wearing my Mark, then what is
it all about? You have both confused me and piqued my interest.

I should like to meet with you. Perhaps we can work out an arranged
time and place? I will do as you ask, and call off the Death Eaters
until after you and I meet. If this sounds amenable to you, then
simply reply to me once more, and we will make plans to meet face to
face. Of course, I plan on having my two closest advisors nearby,
and they may in fact question you.

Send word only if you are in fact sincere. If you are just wasting
my time on childish whims, then do not contact me again.

Yours,
Tom

Folding and sealing the envelope, and writing Harry\'s name on the
front, Tom made his way back to his bedchamber and quietly woke
Hedwig, who hooted softly once again. Giving her a quick treat, the
Dark Lord fastened the letter to the snowy owl\'s leg and opened the
latch once more, watching the bird take off in flight, delivering
his reply to his young archrival.

As he made his way to bed to join his Lucius, Tom\'s last thought
was, \"What is going on, Harry Potter? I don\'t know, and I intend to
find out.\"

~~*~~