It's All Just Temporary with a Bit of Necromancy

Chapter 22: Looks Like We Might

Looks Like We Might

The wind ripped through his hair and Harry laughed at the rush, pulling up from his dive at the last possible second, his toes skimming the grass. Shooting higher into the sky to the point where he felt the temperatures change. Harry flipped into a backwards loop, lazily angling the broom handle down and gracefully plummeting back towards the hard earth below. He stopped a few feet above the ground. Hooking his legs he let his arms fall, fingertips skimming the neatly trimmed grass, and steered with his knees hanging upside down.

Merlin, he loved flying.

Things just made sense in the air. In the air there wasn't the constant pressure to act a certain way, there weren't political maneuvers to consider, revenge to plan, deaths to coordinate; there was nothing but his broom and the endless sky. Pulling himself back upright on the broom, Harry pressed himself to the handle and shot off in a tight corkscrew straight across the open expanse of field.

During one of the spins, he spotted a figure standing at the edge of the field. He easily pulled out of the spiral to fly closer. It was Marvolo. Briefly, Harry wondered how long he had stood there watching. Grinning easily, Harry hopped off his broom while it hovered a few feet off the ground, landing before the Dark Lord. His cheeks flushed, heart-pounding, grin splitting his face, and hair an even greater mess; Harry felt light and buoyant.

"I see you are putting your newest purchase to use," Marvolo commented, his eyes sweeping and lingering more often than usual. Probably just making sure his ally hasn't injured himself, Harry thought with an inner eye roll.

"It feels good to fly again. It took longer than I liked but I'm glad you convinced me to write the broom makers directly instead of just using Owl Orders. Now I get the new Thunderbolt prototype. The pros don't even have it yet." It was a beautiful broom too, Harry thought, reverently running his hand over the handle as it hovered dutifully beside him ready to be mounted once more. "You want to give it a go?" Harry asked, Marvolo's eyes widened and jerked back to stare at Harry's face.

"No," he said slowly. "No, I find flying does not agree with me."

"It doesn't agree with you?" Harry snorted before giving a toothy grin. "You can't fly, can you? The Great Lord Voldemort can't fly on a broom."

"I have mastered magical feats that none in history ever dreamed of. I have no use for sullying myself astride a wooden contraption."

"Nope, just admit it. You can't fly," Harry teased. "Why? Afraid of heights? Too nervous? It's all about the confidence you know."

Marvolo looked affronted. "I do not lack confidence! I am the Dark Lord, I do not get nervous."

"Sure," Harry said with an exaggerated eye roll. "Want me to teach you?"

"Teach...me?" Marvolo repeated, brow creasing.

"Yeah, you're teaching me Dueling and Defense, let me teach you something."

"Perhaps you can provide instruction in other areas to equalize our arrangement, however flying will not be one of them."

"Well, if you aren't here to fly, why are you here?"

"I have come to remind you that your little dueling session is in an hour. And I thought you might want to clean yourself up."

"Oh, thanks," Harry said glancing at his watch. "Why did you come though? I mean you could have just sent Tobi."

Marvolo stayed silent as the two began walking back to the house, the broom hovering at waist height at Harry's side. "It is beneficial to breathe fresh air throughout the day. Taking a break allows the mind to return to planning refreshed."