Snubbing Destiny by umbrafix

Chapter 15

Harry hesitated, down to his underwear, and after blinking patiently for a moment Mipsy seemed to realise he was waiting for her to leave. She gave a little mutter and click of her fingers, and then both she and his discarded robes disappeared.

Alone, Harry removed his underthings and cautiously climbed into the bath. It was large enough for a few people to sit in a circle on the benches around the side. As he sat, the water swirled and bubbled against his skin, almost massaging. It was lovely.

His mind flitted from thought to thought. Memories of his travels. Plans for the next few weeks. People he needed to owl to inquire about apprenticeships and positions. They gradually dissolved and drifted away, until there was only sensation and a faint anticipation.

Eventually he dragged himself from the bath, finding rich, soft towels to dry himself with. His clothes had not been returned, but there was a dark green bathrobe that felt like brushed silk hanging on the back of the door. It draped loosely around him, fastening at the front with only two corded strings. He pulled it close around himself so that the front edges overlapped and felt less indecent, and then cautiously stepped out into the main bedroom, the long material of it pooling out behind him.

Voldemort awaited him. He turned to Harry with a flattering inhale at the sight of him, red eyes fixed and burning.

"You would undo even Lord Voldemort," he murmured eventually.

Harry blushed.

Unhurried, Voldemort moved towards him and stood gazing down, drinking him in. A hand rose and thin fingers gently dragged the collar of the robe aside, revealing flushed skin and a few droplets of moisture that Harry had missed. One hand came to cradle Harry's head as Voldemort dipped his head to taste, and another wrapped around Harry's lower back to pull him closer. Harry leaned into them, testing, and Voldemort took his weight easily. A small, content sigh escaped him, and Voldemort's head rose like a lion's from its kill.

"You willingly put yourself in my power once more," Voldemort mused. Several thoughts seemed to pass behind his eyes. "I had thought, at first, when you left to travel the world, that I might hunt you down."

Harry's heart thumped with fear and arousal both. "What changed your mind?"

Voldemort's eyes scanned his face curiously. "You sent cards."

"Postcards?"

"Yes. And letters. You described... your days. What you were thinking. I... enjoyed having this access to your thoughts. It seemed as though you were not running, as I had thought you might be."

"You'd thought I wasn't coming back?"

Voldemort's head tilted. Harry reached a hand to gently trace the smooth ridge of his brow, and Voldemort leaned into his palm, eyes half lidded for a moment. "It seemed a possibility. But a few years passes in an instant, and you had protections upon you to keep you safe." Harry's hand pulled back to tug at his earring at the reminder, and Voldemort's eyes followed it. "Still, I was... pleased, at the information that you were in England once more."