The Snake and the Emerald Apple

Scribbles and Squiggles

Harry felt something hit his cheek. "Hmm, no, Aunt Petunia, I just want to get some sleep," said Harry sleepily. He turned and settled deeper into the blankets. He could not enjoy the rest again for very long, because soon he was deeply pressed into the mattress by a heavy weight.

~ "Wake up, Hatchling. Master asks for your presence. You also promised Nagini a warm bath." ~ the snake hissed with longing at the thought of a warm bath.

Harry shot to his feet, as far as he could with a huge snake on his lap. The past few days flashed through his mind: taking care of Voldemort, milking Nagini, and making the elixir for Voldemort.

Time passed quickly, Harry realized, especially now that he was free from the Dursleys. He was no longer angry with them, although he did not approve of their behavior. His family would never change and one vacation together wouldn't cause a miracle that would make them suddenly love Harry. He was not even surprised that no search had started, his uncle was probably very happy that he was gone.

The only thing that bothered him was his own behavior. He had easily fallen into the role of a family man, with Nagini as a nagging teenager, with a lot of maintenance. More notably was his growing concerns for Voldemort, like the fact that he had bathed the 'Dark-Toddler' and washed his blankets. He had also stolen pajamas from a clothesline from one of many identical backyards. He had dressed Voldemort in a gray outfit suitable for a three-year-old boy. Voldemort's angry look had been worth it, now he didn't have to see a naked creature every time he interacted with the man.

He had hoped that the erotic dreams of Tom Riddle were over, now that he was confronted daily with a non-sexual older version of the boy. Unfortunately, his inner self seemed to have different ideas, and he had already had several resurrection dreams, turning "baby Mort" into a twenty-year-old Tom Riddle. Harry's body seemed to find this variant even more interesting, which meant that he had already had to change his bed linen twice.

He looked around his room, which he had chosen himself. It was a spacious room, with patio doors to a balcony. The balcony overlooked the backyard and a cemetery in the distance. Harry could enjoy the ironic sight of a Muggle cemetery, especially from the house in which Voldemort, 'murderer of the Muggles', lived.

Absently, he started to get dressed and took care of the necessary hygiene procedures. His hair stood unruly no matter how much water he used to straighten it. When he finished his morning ritual, he left his room to find Voldemort.

He found Voldemort in bed where he had put him the night before. Harry had proudly noticed that the man did not need extra blankets or warm fires to keep his own heath balance. The improved version of the Sanguis Vitae in Vitam Prorogat-Potion worked better than expected, it worked longer and it was more potent. Voldemort himself had noticed that he had more energy than when he used the inferior brew.

"Good morning, sir, you asked for me?" Harry asked politely. He had learned quite quickly that he had to be warm and polite to Voldemort, answering his earlier question right away; Voldemort still had magic in his current form, and Harry had no intention of testing how many.

"Harry, welcome. I have an assignment for you."

Startled, Harry looked at Voldemort. Until now they had a tacit agreement, Harry took care of the house, Nagini, and Voldemort, and Voldemort allowed Harry to be there, teaching him some theory about magic.

A hoarse laugh pulled him out of his shock-like state. "Don't look so scared, Harry. Have I steered you wrong so far?"

Harry shook his head and felt like a little boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. "No sir."