It's All Just Temporary with a Bit of Necromancy

Chapter 33: Thank You, Marvolo

Thank you, Marvolo

Harry Potter would be the death of him.

Marvolo had always been certain of this fact, ever since he'd heard that half-spoken prophecy. At least, he'd always known that if he were to die — and he had worked diligently to prevent this outcome — then it would be because of the man in front of him. However, it appeared that his potential death would not occur in the way Marvolo had always assumed, through a deadly battle, but through something far subtler.

"She would not leave me alone!" Harry ranted, pacing a hole into his carpet, but Marvolo didn't find he minded too terribly. With Harry's emotions high, eyes bright, hair wilder than normal framing his face like a mane; he was the very embodiment of a lion prowling around his office.

Marvolo reclined in his office chair — he had custom-designed it for maximum comfort since he knew he would be forced to reside in his office for longer than he'd like to orchestrate the rise of his empire — and watched Harry tug at his hair. It was an annoyingly endearing habit that Marvolo did not ever wish for him to stop. It was nearing midnight and Marvolo would normally be sleeping at this point, because one did not overthrow a regime while sleep-deprived. However, Harry's Faction Ball had been tonight and Marvolo was uncomfortable with the idea of retiring before Harry returned home. Once Harry had stepped out of the fire, stumbling and reaching for his designated sofa, Marvolo should have left for his bed immediately; the safety of his ally had been confirmed and he could sleep now. But Harry had needed to vent, had needed to unleash all of his thoughts and emotions immediately.

Marvolo should have denied Harry the right to do so, should have denied him in order to preserve his own sleep hygiene, should have denied Harry the chance to weaken him in any way. But, Marvolo struggled to deny Harry anything.

The emotion that Harry embodied was something that Marvolo had always noticed about his former enemy. The memory of last June and Marvolo's brief taste of that all-consuming emotion still haunted and clung to him, waking him in the middle of the night with the scorching intensity of it. Now, as an ally, Marvolo appreciated Harry's vibrant emotions. The man was the very definition of life , burning so brightly.

It was ironic, given Harry's Inheritance was that of a Necromancer and he dealt with Death. And oh! , wasn't that a sight to behold when Harry unleashed his wrath and fury and killed in the name of Death. Those breathtaking displays...well that inspired emotions and desires that Marvolo had no difficulties identifying. But, despite being Death's Child — as Harry insisted was his actual title — Marvolo had yet to meet another so full of life, so vibrant, and so passionate. He admittedly felt helpless in the face of it, the warmth and compassion that seemed so natural, so synchronous to simply breathing. Marvolo found himself craving that warmth, that vibrant life, and fearing it in equal measures.

It was terrifying. It was addicting. It was everything that Marvolo never knew he needed. He loathed it and he craved it. It was disconcerting to experience such conflicting emotions and he devoted more time than he liked a day trying to unravel it. He had always prided himself on being superior to those who succumbed to their needlessly base emotional drivel. He was the Dark Lord, he was intimately aware of his own mind, was aware of his every thought and desire. So why was it that this one man — this aggravatingly sensational man — created such uncertainty and confusion?

"I ended up avoiding her after the third dance she forced me into," Harry continued, ignorantly unaware of the turmoil he stirred within Marvolo's soul. "But, Merlin's balls, I had to resort to using Hestia and Flora as my shields. I think Marcus was getting annoyed by how often I was dancing with his fiance. I should probably let him get a few hits in during our next duel, but that bloody woman would not get it through her damn head!" Harry ran hands through his hair making it wilder and even more lion-like. "Can you believe that? I mean I knew Lady Pyrites wouldn't stop pushing her niece but I did not expect that level. You know?"