Harry Potter 1. Bellatrix's plan

_(A/N hello. I've been MIA for a while, as some of you may know. Liquida Tenebris and Thank You and Hired help and every other story I've been writing for here have been pretty much abandoned. I do plan to someday finish them. I've been writing my own books and publishing them. Which is exciting :D If you're interested in learning more about them, shoot me a PM and I'll gladly tell you more. :D Anyway, this is an idea that's been swaying around in my head for ages, but I've mostly ignored it till now. I've been missing my HP/LV :P)_

* * *

"And you think this will work?" Narcissa asked, dubious.

"Of course, Cissy. I can't imagine why no one's ever thought of it before. Won't it be grand?" Bellatrix laughed and the Malfoy matriarch flinched. Of course she wasn't going to stop her sister. That was a fool's errand. Trying to stop her would only spur her on.

Besides, what did it matter? If she failed, oh well. And if she was successful, then things might change.

Or, they most certainly would, given what she had planned. Narcissa didn't know how they would change, there were so many variables.

Of course, her curse might just be stopped, before it could really alter the boy saviours mind.

The blonde woman wasn't sure what outcome she wanted.

* * *

"You aren't studying, Harry?" Hermione asked, watching her friend closely. He hadn't spoken about his godfather's death, or the inheritance left to him. He seemed to be pretending that it had never happened. Hermione didn't know whether she should force him into it, or leave it all alone.

"Not really," He replied, staring blankly at his textbook.

"Wanna play chess then?" Ron asked, eagerly putting down his own homework before the boy who lived could answer.

"Sure, okay," He said, not wanting to disappoint his best mate. Hermione scoffed but there was humour in her eyes.

"I think she's still peeved that she didn't get all O's on her OWL's." Ron muttered, and his bushy haired friend threw a quill at him. It didn't hit, it spun in the air and fell to the floor, well before it was in range of the red head.

An owl tapped at the common room window not long after Ron had pulled out the chess board. Hermione stood and opened the window and the bird swept inside with more speed than was necessary, dropping a black envelope on Harry's lap. It looked like a howler.

"Don't touch it!" Hermione said, and Harry put his hands in the air and stood quickly. He didn't like the look of it any more than she did. Ron watched with wide eyes as the bird flew out the window as fast as it had come in.

As soon as Harry thought that he had escaped whatever magic the envelope held, it came to float in front of his face. He tried to step back but the sofa he'd been sitting on was in the way. He stepped to the side quickly, coming to stand behind it. He never took his eyes of the letter.

Hermione and Ron came to stand beside him.

"Go get someone Ron," Harry said, his tone wary.

The Weasley was quick to do as he was asked, but as soon as he left the room, the envelope opened. Black smoke poured from it, like ink in water. It began speaking, and the black was heading right for him.

"Run! Harry!" Hermione yelped, pulling on his arm. But he stood stock still. It was as if his legs had turned to concrete.

'_May your hatred turn to lust in your chest. May all you fear become all you want. May those you love become those you most despise. May you only find solace at the side of your enemy. May all you hold dear turn to ash by your own hands. May you happily burn every bridge you've ever built.' _It said, the blackness had reached his face and he couldn't breathe.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, but it seemed as if she was far away, hard to hear from the ringing in his ears.

The Boy Who Lived collapsed to his knees as the envelope fell to the ground, just as inconspicuous as it had once been.

"Are you okay? Harry?" She had come to kneel beside him. His head was still swimming, and a deep fear was settling in his chest. What was that? Who sent it?

Ron burst into the room with Professor McGonagall close behind him.

"What's going on?" She asked, and that was the last thing Harry heard before he face planted into the carpet.

* * *

"Harry? Harry!" Ron shouted as soon as the boy saviour's eyes twitched.

"Ron?" He mumbled, sitting up and searching for his glasses. He was in the hospital wing for the first time that year. He was sure there would be more.

"It's okay. Professor Dumbledore said it was likely a joke. Probably sent by Malfoy or someone. He said there was no way any real harmful magic could get through the wards so easily." Hermione said with confidence, her arms crossed.

The Boy Who Lived nodded along with her, but something felt wrong about all of it. He was frowning, and he knew his bushy haired friend saw it.

"Harry really. He said you were fine. They ran some tests while you were sleeping, and all they found was a hex to knock you out for a few hours. He told me to tell you that he'd be keeping a close eye on you though, just in case."

All through this, Harry tried to recall exactly what the howler like letter had said. And found that he couldn't.

"Hermione, do you remember what it said?" He asked her, and she bit her lip.

"I do. You don't?" She guessed.

"No I- Not really." He confessed, wondering if it was because he hit the ground too hard, or something else.

"Well it's probably best to just forget about it. It was probably some Slytherin messing with you, anyway." She told him. He did want to remember what it said, but he also wanted to dismiss it as easily as she and Dumbledore had.

* * *

"You're certain?" Dumbledore asked, his chin in his hands. Both Slughorn and Severus were in his office. Horace, because he hoped he might have something to fix it, and the new defence teacher because he was the one to find it.

"Yes. It was deep in his mind, barely there at all, at this point." Severus answered, his head bowed. It was unusual for him to bow his head in a conversation that involved the young Potter, but there it was.

As loathe as Dumbledore was to admit it, he'd never heard of this kind of magic. It was old. And Dark. So old in fact that it was all but forgotten. Except, as it was becoming clear, by Voldemort and his followers.

That was another reason Severus was there.

"And there is no way to remove it?" The headmaster asked, holding his breath.

"Not that I'm aware. Though," The ex-Potions master trailed off.

"If I may, this really doesn't seem like something the Dark Lord would do. It's very, binding, magic. It's not deadly. It is altering, but not life threatening or even painful. It just doesn't seem… right." He said, giving a side glance at Slughorn.

"Horace, if you could please research what Severus has said. If you find anything pertaining to it, I would like to hear from you right away." The Headmaster told him, and he gave a sharp nod, exiting the room.

"I've heard nothing of this. Most times, most times there are whispers of his plans. Now, nothing. Either he didn't tell a soul, or it simply was not him." Snape said when he was sure Horace was gone.

"I agree that this seems unlike him. But if not, then who?"

* * *

"Cissy! Cissy the birds back!" Bellatrix shouted, though it was the dead of night and her sister was sleeping.

She was looking out the open window, as she had been for hours now, waiting for this particular owl.

"And it's got nothing! I think it worked!" She yelled as the bird got closer. Her sister descended the stairs then, her hair mussed and a frown on her face.

"Bella, what is going on?" She asked wearily, afraid to know.

"It's back! And it's got nothing!" She cheered, waving the bird around like a trophy.

Narcissa pursed her lips, not expecting this outcome. Her sister planned to make the  
Potter boy fall in love with her. Or at least, worship her. She fancied herself his greatest enemy. Which just might have been true, after she slaughtered his godfather.

But Narcissa was almost certain that she was not, in fact, his worst enemy.

The boy would, in time, crawl to the Dark Lord on his hands and knees begging to be petted like a regular old housecat.

And then he would be killed.

Bellatrix factored into this almost exactly none. The Boy Who Lived would not go to her. She would not get the glory of bringing him to the Dark Lord herself.

She might even be punished for taking matters into her own hands. Like so many others when it came to Harry Potter.

She gave her insane sister a nod and a half smile anyway.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked the next morning. He'd been released from the hospital wing.

"I feel fine." He said, shrugging. Hermione smiled as if this proved everything was okay. But Harry couldn't shake the dread in his stomach.

One of the first things he'd done was confront Malfoy. Who seemed genuinely confused by the accusation that he had anything to do with the weird letter. Which was new, for the Slytherin. Usually he'd admit to his misdeeds in a roundabout way, not confessing but close, then he would gloat.

If it wasn't him, then who? Sure, there was probably a lot of people who wanted to mess with him. But surely most the people who wanted to 'mess with him' also wanted to cause damage.

But then there were the wards. The headmaster had said that nothing malicious could come through them.

He was sure that this was true, or he would have received hundreds of cursed items a day.

If there was nothing wrong, why did he feel like there was?

Later that night another owl came. Everyone in his dorm was sleeping, except for Harry. It tapped on the window beside his bed. He stood up, almost afraid to open it after the last letter he'd received.

But Dumbledore said there was nothing wrong.

So he opened it, taking the letter from the bird's beak with trepidation.

_Hello little Potter. _

_I hope my last letter made it to you safely. It won't be long until you're begging to fulfil my every whim. But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I, Dear? I bet you don't even know what I'm talking about. _

The words were written with ridiculous swirls and spirals. Which made him think it was a woman who sent it.

He knew that the person was talking about the black envelope. But he still couldn't remember the wording of said envelope.

This letter made him wonder if it was some sort of love spell. But then the way it was written seemed malicious somehow. He chewed his lip and debated between taking it to Dumbledore at such a late hour, or leaving it until morning.

The churning worry in his gut made him walk out of the dorm room and the portrait hole.

* * *

Harry had just left the headmasters office, sent back to bed and told not to worry.

Dumbledore decided it was time to put a stop to any letters addressed to one Harry Potter. Which was obviously something he should have done much sooner.

He rapped his fingers on his desk, staring at the letter intently. It was not from Tom Riddle. That was clear. He wasn't prone to dotting his I's with a love heart. He wondered if this was the work of a woman, and if it was, it was one of his enemies.

There was a short list of women that fit that bill. And an even shorter list of women insane enough to do this.

* * *

"Hermione, you need to tell me what that envelope said." Harry said the next morning. He hadn't gotten any sleep that night, instead, he replayed the incident over and over in his head. For the life of him, he couldn't remember.

"Professor Dumbledore said it was best to just forget about it," She said, chewing her lip.

"How did he even know I wouldn't remember? And if it was no big deal, why not just tell me?" He pressed, and she shook her head, silently refusing him.

Whatever the howler like letter had said, it was nothing good. Which made Harry sure that there was more to this.

If it was a harmless joke, why was Dumbledore trying to prevent him knowing the truth?

Again, the thought of the wards came into his mind, making him second guess himself. What if there really was nothing wrong? Was it so hard to believe that for once, something was easily explained and harmless?

Yes, yes it was hard to believe.


	2. Begin the end

_(A/N the chapters for this fic will likely be short till I get some proper inspiration.)_

* * *

_I never thought I could feel condemned, I never thought I could feel all your sin.__  
__I can feel your madness now, I can feel your fire now, It's what I burn for, It's what I bleed for.__  
__I feel exposed, I feel disgraced, I feel a whole new kind of hate, Someone please tell me what I'm supposed to do, 'Cause you hate me but I love you.__  
__I can feel your madness now, __I__ can feel your fire now, It's what I burn for, It's what I aim for, It's what I bleed for.__  
__I would die for you._

* * *

"Ron! Would you just- could you please stop doing that?" Harry snapped, his head in his hands.

"Whut?" The red head responded, oblivious to the Boy Who Lived's headache. He was tapping his fork on the table in the great hall, while they were waiting for dessert. Harry's nerves had been shot all day, thanks to the aching brain he'd woken up with.

Hermione was sitting across from them, frowning.

Harry bit his lip and held in the urge to start shouting.

"Your fork," He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh," The red head put the fork gently on the table and Harry gave him a half smile as a thank you. He wasn't sure why it was bothering him so much, the hall was full to the brim with noise, as it always was.

It wasn't as if Ron's fork really made it that much more unbearable. But it did.

* * *

The Headmaster was watching Harry closely from the staff table. It had been three days since the second letter, and it seemed as though the young man's temper was only getting worse.

Severus had said the curse could take anywhere up to a month to reach its full potency. But it could be less.

Dumbledore now had the full faculty of Hogwarts researching how to put a stop to it. So far, nothing.

Though it had only been a few days, the dread in his mind was reaching a fever pitch. Harry's attitude towards his friends was on the decline. Not noticeably so, not if you weren't watching for it. But he had been hoping it would be at least weeks before these signs came to fruition.

No such luck, it seemed.

As it was, Dumbledore predicted that it would only be another two weeks, tops, before Harry shunned them all.

And not long after that, he would seek out his enemies, and all would be lost.

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked for the millionth time.

"No, I told you. I feel terrible," Harry responded, rubbing his temples and wanting to jam his head between his knees. He would have liked to go to bed, but it was too early, and that would only send Hermione on a 'What's wrong with the Boy Wonder today?' quest.

"You still got that headache, mate?" Ron asked, the potions textbook on his lap sliding to the floor, forgotten at least half an hour before.

"Yeah," The Boy Who Lived replied, even though he felt like snapping about pointing out the obvious.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing?" The bushy haired girl said.

He'd had enough of the hospital wing for a lifetime. He shook his head no, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

There was one thing he wanted to talk about, though.

"Hermione…" He began, and she seemed to instantly know what he wanted, because she waved her arms and shook her head vehemently.

"Professor Dumbledore said-" She started to say the same thing she always did, but Harry stood up so fast it stunned her into silence.

"I don't care what he said! I want to know! Whose side are you on, anyway?!" He shouted, then he clamped his mouth shut, forming a thin line.

"We're all on the same side, Harry," She said quietly. He ignored that and continued to stare at her. Everyone that was in the common room with them was staring, which only served to fuel the fire in his gut.

"What?!" He yelled at them, and they promptly pretended to be doing something else. Hermione was white in the face and Ron was looking at the two of them like their legs had suddenly detached.

"I think we need to go and see the headmaster," She said in the same whispery tone. She stood up before he could object, and Ron followed her lead.

Harry bit his tongue and walked behind his two friends out the portrait hole.

* * *

"Professor, I- we, wanted to know. Um." Hermione began, stuttering. The headmaster was watching the three of them with careful eyes. Harry was still behind them, glaring at the floor.

"I mean, I think that maybe the letter that Harry received," She waved her right hand around while she tried to figure out what she wanted to say.

"What was in the letter?" Harry interrupted, annoyed. He stepped forward so that he was the closest to Dumbledore.

"Ahh, Harry-"

"When you say my name with that tone I know what you're going to do," Harry warned, not wanting to be placated with more 'Don't worrie's' and 'it's fine's'.

"I think that the letter wasn't a joke, professor. I think it was real." Hermione said, finally finding her voice.

"And what did it say?!" Harry demanded, falling just short of stomping his foot.

"Take a seat, Harry." Dumbledore said, giving a sharp nod to his friends. They both left, though he could see that Ron was confused and wanted to stay.

"I wanted to wait, in case we found a way to stop it," His voice was grave and Harry sat up in his seat, sensing that he was about to hear some bad news.

"What did it say," He said again, less annoyed and more concerned.

'May your hatred turn to lust in your chest. May all you fear become all you want. May those you love become those you most despise. May you only find solace at the side of your enemy. May all you hold dear turn to ash by your own hands. May you happily burn every bridge you've ever built.' Dumbledore told him as if he was reciting it from a book.

Harry sat in silence for a moment, letting it sink in. Every passing second gave way to a new kind of terror, making his gut wrench so much that he felt like he was going to throw up.

"And it's real. It's not a prank." Harry asked, though he already knew that much. Even if the Headmaster hadn't hinted at it, he could feel it.

The way his friends annoyed him lately, so much that he wanted, most times, to sneak away from them and hide.

"That can't happen. It can't. Can it?"

Dumbledore gave no answer.

"But you said the wards were secure! You said I was fine!" He was trying not to get mad at him, trying to force it down, because he knew now that it wasn't simply anger growing in his mind.

"Who sent it?" He ground out, before the Headmaster could say anything about the wards and annoy Harry further.

"We're not certain. But we believe it to be a woman. A woman who means you harm and isn't afraid to go to extreme lengths." He said it in a way that made him think he had an idea, and so did he.

"Bellatrix." He said, his eyes wide and his fists clenched.

He was sure it was her. There was no doubt in his mind. His professor gave a small nod to indicate that he thought so too.

"How do I stop it?" He asked, but before the question was out of his mouth he remembered the old man's earlier words. _"I wanted to wait, just in case we found a way to stop it,"_

"You don't know," Harry answered for him, slumping in his seat. The headmaster shook his head sadly.

"How long?"

"A month, if we are fortunate."

Harry stood and walked out the door before he could start throwing things around. A month. It'd already almost been a week.

* * *

Hermione and Ron were waiting for him in the common room, and the both of them stood up when he entered.

"What happened?" The bushy haired

girl asked, her eyes wide. Harry walked right by them, heading up the stairs to his dormitory.

"It was real." He shouted down the stairs. He'd let Hermione fill Ron in. She likely would. He didn't feel like talking about it right then.

Instead he collapsed into his bed and drew the curtains shut, forcing his eyes closed and his mind blank.

* * *

The next morning the sight of his friends didn't bring him joy.

It didn't bring him anger, either, so at least that wasn't happening yet.

What it brought him was exhaustion. Exhaustion at the thought of what they would be talking about all day, all week, and all month, until he had enough of them entirely.

Another save Harry mission. Hit the books and find the answer that the authority figures are somehow blind to. Save him, save the world.

One step at a time.

Not that Harry didn't want to stop what was likely to happen to him. Far from it. Just the thought of another hurdle so soon after the last dragged his soul down in a way that it never had before.

He was dejected.

"How are you mate?" Ron asked, a scowl on his face that told Harry he'd been completely filled in the night before.

Good. At least he didn't need to do it himself.

"Uhh." Was his answer. He didn't know whether to say, 'Awful and I'd really rather just go back to bed and pretend this isn't happening. How are you?' Or, 'Gee, just fantastic, anyone for a round of library scouring?'

* * *

"Are you certain?" Dumbledore wasn't in his office for this conversation, which was unusual. He was standing by the lake, Severus by his side, both competing for the title of 'most grim looking.'

"It is old magic. Any information of reversing the curse has likely been lost. With this kind of magic, the only sure way to break it is the death of the caster."

Dumbledore nodded, looking away from Snape and over to the water.

"Assuming we could even find her, would you be willing to make that choice?" The defence professor asked, his eyes following the headmasters over the lake.

"What choice do I have, Severus? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, or Bellatrix Lestrange?"

* * *

"Ugh I'm so tired," Ron whined, burying his face in the book in front of him. Hermione had, as Harry had assumed, forced them into the library right after breakfast. She had proclaimed that they were lucky that it was a Saturday, so they could spend all day there.

The youngest male Weasley had openly groaned at this, which offended Harry, but he had ultimately stayed with them throughout the day and well into the night.

"It's curfew soon," Hermione said, placating him.

They'd found nothing.

Not a single thing pertaining to the curse, how it was done or how to stop it.

Harry didn't think the headmaster would be having much luck either. He'd decided that if this letter had slipped past the wards, then the old man wouldn't exactly be versed about it. He would know as much as Harry himself did.

Which was nothing.

He gritted his teeth and stood up. Though it was another half hour till lights out, he didn't sense a phenomenal breakthrough coming on. Ron followed his lead but Hermione stayed in her seat, barely acknowledging their leaving.

* * *

It was Monday and first up was defence with the Slytherins. Ron openly whined all the way to class, and though Harry shared his dislike for the Slytherins, thankfully, he was irritated by his insistent sooking.

He wished that the red head would just accept things the way they were.

There wasn't about to be a school wide notice that all the Slytherins were being sent to hell.

So why bother fighting it?

Harry sat in his usual seat and Ron and Hermione flanked him, moving their desks closer to him. Like a neon sign that the golden boy was vulnerable.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat but resisted the urge to get up and sit elsewhere.

It was only ten minutes into class before Malfoy started something.

"Hey Weaselby, I like your robes. Where'd you get them, your mom's rag drawer?" All the Slytherins in the room cackled, and Snape kept on talking as if he didn't hear a thing.

Harry was staring at the far wall, hoping it would just blow over.

"What, not taking the bait today, Ronikins?" Malfoy cooed, and Ron started frowning harder.

"I gave you a compliment, it's rude to ignore me." He continued.

"Shut up Malfoy," Ron growled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your robes." He nudged Goyle in the ribs and laughed.

"Still better than yours!" The Weasley shouted in return, drawing Snape's attention.

"He's right," Harry muttered, his head in his hands as he stared at Snape disinterestedly.

"Yeah," Ron said, thinking Harry was talking about him.

"No, not you. Malfoy's right. Your robes suck." He said, then sat up straight when he heard himself. Malfoy and the Slytherins that heard him made a collective "Oooo" Sound.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean that." He said quickly, standing up and making to leave the room. He gave a pause to see if Snape would stop him, when he didn't, he left.

He needed to clear his head and direct his anger at something else.


	3. Riptide

_(A/N Okay so not doing too bad on the inspiration front. Should be writing my own book but __whatevs.)_

* * *

I won't justify,  
The way I live my life.  
'Cause I'm the one living it,  
Feeling it, tasting it,  
And you're just wasting your time;  
Trying to throw me a line,  
When you're the one drowning.  
I like where I'm at on my back,  
Floating down in my own riptide,  
The water is fine.

* * *

"Look I really am sorry," Harry said for the hundredth time. Ron was taking it well, but he knew it was only because he had to.

It didn't make Harry feel any better.

"It's fine mate, really." The red head insisted, and the Boy Who Lived sighed. It wasn't fine. Not to him. He'd openly insulted his best friend in front of the Slytherins. Even if they did manage to get rid of the curse, the Slytherins would hold that over Ron's head as long as they could. But he let it go. There was no point apologizing if Ron was only going to ignore it.

Another two days had passed, and Dumbledore had asked Harry to come to his office both nights, to see how he was holding up. No one had said anything about a potential cure.

He wondered what would happen when the curse finally took over.

Would they lock him up somewhere? He'd be a serious threat to those he loved. Maybe he should just skip all the drama and ask to be locked up.

It would be safer, in the long run. He wouldn't be able to run off and hug his enemies, that way.

But a little glimmer of hope stopped him from marching to the Headmasters office and demanding to be detained.

He just needed to keep directing his anger at Bellatrix. It had been working so far.

Every time Ron's migraine inducing whining got too much, he'd picture her. Whenever Hermione got too insistent with her searching and demanding and hopefulness, he'd picture her.

Each time he imagined being more comfortable chatting with the Slytherins about hexing the pants off the Weasley's, he'd picture her.

So far, it would shake him out of his thoughts and bring him back where he was needed.

It almost wasn't enough, sometimes, but it was all he had.

* * *

"No word?" Dumbledore could tell by the look on Severus' face that this was the case, but he asked anyway. Snape had just returned from a Death Eater gathering, and Bellatrix had been absent.

Any asking around about her whereabouts was fruitless. Voldemort's men were tight lipped around the Defence professor.

The Headmaster didn't think this was an accident. He had long suspected the Dark Lord might know where Severus' true allegiance lied. But until it was certain, he couldn't risk parting with any information that the ex-potions master might bring to the table.

"No. She's a very hard woman to find. Which leads me to believe that she is the one we're looking for." Snape said, and the Headmaster 'hmmed'.

Time was getting short. Severus had told him that Harry had openly mocked Ron Weasley with the Slytherins. In the two days since, things had been quiet.

But the agitated look that never left the young man's face told him it wouldn't be long until something went seriously awry.

* * *

After the lessons for the day were finished; Hermione would, sure as anything, drag them to the library. They had forgone homework, even the bushy haired girl herself. They had replaced it with relentless searching for a cure.

Which was slowly driving Harry mad.

These times were the worst. Locked in a stuffy library with Ron's poor attitude and Hermione's perpetual nit picking.

These were the times that picturing Bellatrix hung up by her ankles did almost nothing to curb his growing impatience.

He'd even gone as far as telling Hermione this. Telling her that it was best that he not join her in this. But she had insisted that spending more time with them, working as a team, would only improve his outlook.

Which was proving to absolutely not be the case.

"Ron? What are you reading? You've been quiet." Hermione asked, peeking over her book at Ron's.

"Nothing," He said quickly, trying to whip it out of her grasp. She was faster, striking like a cobra and snatching it out of his hands.

"A book about Quiddich? Are you serious?" She stood up and looked like she might throw it, but thought better of it and placed it on the far end of the table.

"How is that helping Ronald?" She snapped, crossing her arms.

"I just can't keep reading all this! We're getting nowhere!" He said, crossing his arms as well, looking away from her.

Harry could feel his teeth grinding together. He tapped his foot relentlessly on the ground, staring into the book in front of him and desperately trying to ignore them.

But there was anger there. He wanted to say something. To Ron, mostly. Something along the lines of;

"Since when does Quiddich matter more than me?" He growled it out before he meant to say it. He'd only thought of saying it, the words barely formed in his mind before they spewed out from behind his clenched teeth.

"It- it doesn't mate. I'm sorry." Ron said quietly. Hermione was watching Harry carefully through all this. He had his head bowed, and if she had of been able to see his face, she might have been more concerned.

"Could have fooled me," He muttered.

"I'm sorry," Ron said, but his tone made Harry stand up, knocking his chair over.

"That was not sincere," Harry hissed, his hand itching to take his wand out of his pocket and force him to sound sincere.

"Harry," Hermione's tone was quiet but it held a hint of warning. He'd taken his wand out without even registering it.

This was akin to throwing a glass of ice water in his face. His mouth fell open.

"OH! Oh, I'm sorry. Oh god." He jammed his wand back where it came from and rubbed his face briskly. He bolted out of the room before they could say another word. Hermione followed after him and called his name.

"Don't. Don't right now just leave me be."

* * *

"I drew my wand on Ron." Harry told the Headmaster.

He'd gone straight from the library to Dumbledore. His earlier thoughts on asking him to lock him up were back. And it seemed like a much better idea now.

"What were you planning to do? When things got bad? What was the plan with me?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"I hoped to find a cure." He said, his hands steepled on his desk. Harry took this to mean there was no plan. He swallowed the anger that came up at his words.

Of course there was no plan.

"Lock me up." He said through gritted teeth.

"Pardon, my boy?"

"You heard me; I said lock me up. This is only going to go downhill from here I'm already- I can't stand them right now. I can't stand you. I just- lock me up." At the end he was pleading. He didn't want to be a danger to his friends. He could already feel that he would hurt them, or worse.

"Where exactly would we lock you up?" Dumbledore asked, looking incredulous. As if Harry's request was insane.

The Boy Who Lived shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, bewildered by the lack of preparedness. It was closing in on two weeks. Almost half the maximum time he had. And it didn't feel like he had that long.

"Anywhere. Anywhere safe where I won't hurt anyone."

"We're running low on safe places, Harry."

"Grimmauld place." Harry decided suddenly. The Order would be in and out all the time. If they set it up so that Harry couldn't leave, and took his wand, it would be perfect.

He didn't want to be constantly reminded of his god father, but he also didn't want to harm his friends. Dumbledore gave a long sigh.

"If that's what you want."

"You need to take my wand. And hide it. And- and get someone to make sure I can't leave." He put his wand on the desk as he spoke, his fingers already itching to snatch it back and run.

He sat further back in his seat.

"I'll send Severus and Remus to set up new wards. In the meantime, pack your things. If all goes well, you should able to leave come morning. In the meantime I suggest you keep contact with your friends to a minimum." The headmaster said, and Harry gave a sharp nod, standing and leaving the room quickly, before he put his wand back in his pocket.

* * *

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I can't stay here like this. I'll end up- it just won't end well. Dumbledore said that it's a good idea for you guys to leave me alone while I'm still here so… I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Both of you. Just in case I never say it again or- anyway. I think it's best that I'm not here while Dumbledore looks for an answer." He'd found Ron and Hermione in the common room, whispering together in their usual place by the fire.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked while Hermione stood and wrapped her arms around him. He flinched at her touch, and fought the need to pull away.

"It's probably better that I don't tell you." He told the red head instead of tearing the small girl off him.

"We'll keep looking. And we'll send you letters, okay?" She told him, and he nodded, though he wasn't sure he would reply to any letters they sent.

He left them be and climbed up the stairs, throwing all his belongings into his trunk before anyone could see him and ask what he was doing.

Before anyone else was awake the next morning he was out of bed. It was best that there was no further goodbyes between him and his friends.

The last one was as good as he could muster, and any other interactions were likely to turn ugly.

He was waiting in the Headmasters office for the okay to leave.

Dumbledore had told him that he was leaving Hedwig there. Which, Harry supposed, was a good idea. He wasn't likely to send any letters to his worst enemies now, but in a week or two, he had no idea what would happen.

He would have no contact with the outside world. The only letters that were permitted to receive would be from Dumbledore, Ron, or Hermione. The owls weren't allowed to wait around for a reply, in case he got any ideas about using them to send letters elsewhere.

It was another half hour before the Headmaster led him outside the wards and apparated the two of them to Grimmauld place.

He was told that as soon as he entered the threshold of the wards, he wouldn't be able to walk out again. As soon as Dumbledore said this he took a quick step into the perimeter before he changed his mind and ran. So that was that.

There was no getting out of this house.

He couldn't hurt anyone here.

He let out a sigh of relief and dragged his trunk in through the front door, pulling it into the first room up the stairs and dropping it unceremoniously on the ground.

"There will be someone here with you from the order all the time." Dumbledore said from behind him. Harry hadn't even heard him come up the stairs.

He nodded at the old man and begged him silently to leave. He'd already had enough for one day. As if he was reading the teens thoughts, he gave a sharp nod and turned on his heel, leaving the Boy Who Lived alone with his thoughts.


	4. When your first plan works

I'll find the places where you hide.  
I'll be the dawn on your worst night.  
The only thing left that I like;  
Yeah I would kill for you, that's right.

If that's what you wanted.

I'll put your poison in my veins.  
They say the best love is insane,  
I'll light your fire till my last day,  
I'll let your fields burn around me.

If that's what you wanted.

* * *

Four days later and Snape was the only person he could stand. He would sit by him during meetings, which now consisted of almost nothing but trying to find a way to fix him. The meeting he was sitting in right now was almost enough to turn his brain to seething mush, but he kept fighting it.

Severus had mentioned that finding Bellatrix would be the only logical first step.

"In that letter she sent, she said I would come to her soon. Surely she would give me a way to find her, eventually." Harry muttered.

"We can't risk that. As you are, you would likely somehow use it to escape." Snape said, and Harry scoffed lightly.

Though he knew that much was true. A small part of him had only brought this up in the hope of exactly that happening.

"Not that it would matter, anyway, doing so would require opening the wards to any owls received from her. And who knows what she would send." Remus said, wringing his hands.

"I want to talk to you," Harry said under his breath while the Order argued the pros and cons of letting Bellatrix contact him. Severus gave a 'hmm' in response, which Harry took to mean yes. With that done he stood up and left them to it, already over listening to them bicker.

He sat in his room while he waited, picking at the threadbare blanket on his rickety bed. An owl flew in the window, dropped a letter on the floor and flew back out again.

Harry didn't bother picking it up. He knew who it was from.

Hermione.

He also knew what it would say.

Don't worry, Harry. We haven't found anything yet but I'm sure we will. Just stay positive.

Sure. Stay positive. No problem. Easy as pie, no worries. He had a little more than a week left before the curse was absolutely done. And that was the optimistic number.

The Order had already removed all sharp objects from the house. They had begun with the heavy and blunt objects. Everyone held they're wands in their hands. Except Severus. He'd gotten the hint that he was someone Harry had once called an enemy.

Now, Harry didn't mind the thought of sitting down to a cup of tea with the man. Maybe even go bowling, or see a movie.

He was better company than the rest of them.

Lately the frequency of these thoughts was increasing, almost alarmingly so, if Harry could bring himself to care.

Which was harder now than it was before. It wasn't impossible for a stray thought to catch him off guard, to scare him so deeply he would lose his breath.

And though these thoughts weren't going away, only increasing in violence and occurrence, his tolerance of them was changing. He would find himself grinning fiendishly at something especially dark that his mind had come up with. And when he realized it, he was only minimally ashamed of himself.

Severus entering the room brought him out of his reverie.

"You wanted to talk?" He asked, looking around the room. It was bare, almost all of his belongings had been confiscated, besides his clothes.

Harry brought his knees to his chin and rocked a little. Snape's eyes lingered on the letter on the carpet, but he didn't say anything.

"Whose side are you on, really?" Harry asked conversationally. He didn't look at the man, trying not to hint at how much he wanted the answer.

There was a long silence between them, so much that he thought the greasy haired man wasn't going to answer at all. He sat down in the small lounge chair and crossed his ankles.

"I'm taking your recent behaviour towards me to mean that you considered me an enemy?" He asked, and Harry gave a one shouldered shrug.

"And you didn't call me the same? Maybe not out loud, sure, but you hate me." He said with conviction.

"It's not you I hate it's-" He paused for another long moment. The teen didn't press him. There was more to the man's story than Harry knew. But whether or not the man would tell him was another matter.

"I'm on your side." He said with finality.

"And before you get any ideas, I will not help you escape. You are safe here." He stood up before Harry could ask anything else.

* * *

Two more days and Harry had locked himself in his room, possibly forever.

It was obvious now that Snape was not his escape route. He'd accosted the man a few more times, but he was unflinching.

The Boy Who Lived was sure now that he didn't want to be where he was anymore. Just the mere sight of the Order members made him feel physically ill. Especially Dumbledore, who he avoided with the most fervour.

He still received up to three letters a day, which he didn't open or even acknowledge anymore. The owls never stayed.

So he just sat in his room, biting his nails and fighting the urge to march downstairs and choke everyone he found to death.

Maybe even including Snape. His refusal to help was getting to him.

So he would spend hours just staring at the far wall, his mood only getting progressively worse as the days ticked by.

He figured the curse was pretty much at its peak, by now. He felt nothing but resentment towards his once friends. Any thought of them made his face screw up in distaste.

He'd experimented with thinking about Bellatrix and Voldemort.

Bellatrix seemed inconsequential. Voldemort seemed much less inconsequential and much more like someone he would really like to talk to face to face.

He wasn't sure what he would say, if that ever happened. Assuming the Dark Lord wouldn't just kill him in the first millisecond.

In the past though, that didn't seem to be the case. Voldemort liked to gloat. To scream in his ear about how all powerful he was.

And, so far, none of his followers had been allowed to land a deadly blow on him. He was reserved solely for the Dark Lord.

He'd thought about somehow getting a message to the Death Eaters. Slip the houses address out to them. It was his house, and it was entirely possible for him to completely decimate the secret keeping wards.

A few times he'd launched himself at the owls that brought him letters.

Even if he was successful with this though, it was unlikely the birds would comply with him, anyway.

He didn't have to wait much longer before his out presented itself in the form of Pigwidgeon. The bird was almost as stupid as its owner. It flew into the room and landed on his dresser with a thump, hooting and sticking its tiny leg out.

Harry's mouth fell open. It was waiting for a reply.

He quickly got out of bed and double checked his door was locked, taking the letter from the owl and tearing it open.

_Hey mate, _

_I told Pig to wait for a reply. Usually Dumbledore fills us in on your progress but we haven't heard anything in a few days-_

Harry dropped the letter and searched his still half packed trunk for a quill and parchment. Two of the few things that hadn't been taken from him.

_Harry Potter is at Twelve Grimmauld Place. There are wards in place but there is seldom many people protecting him. If you attack at night and bring sufficient man power, you should be able to take him._

He tied the letter to the bird's leg.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. Or Lucius Malfoy. Any Death Eater. Even Voldemort. Don't go home until this finds the hands of one of the Dark Lords supporters." He threw it out the window and let out a breath.

Ron really was foolish.

* * *

His next day and half felt like he was holding his breath the entire time.

During this, his desire to seek out the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself only grew. He was glad that he had already sent that letter. But he didn't know what would happen now.

Would they ignore it? Write it off as a hoax or a trap? The more he thought about it the more he was sure that they would. Since when did Death Eaters take anonymous tips?

Regardless of his growing concern that they would disregard it, he barely slept. He sat up listening for any sound of an ambush.

In the end, he was asleep when it happened. A loud crash woke him and he sat up, his heart pounding. Surely it wasn't already happening. Surely it wouldn't happen at all.

He paused, his hand hovering over his glasses as he waited for another sign. He got it in the form of a surprised scream. He thought it might have been Tonks.

He shot out of bed and jammed his glasses on his face, unlocking his door. He decided against going downstairs just yet, he wanted to be in a position where he could tell a single Death Eater that there were wards keeping him inside.

If they hadn't found that one, if they were only concerned with alarms and wards barring entry, then they weren't getting him out of here. And time was of the essence.

It was only a few more seconds before his door burst off its hinges.

"Wait! Wait just one second. There's wards!" Whoever had burst through the door had their wand raised already, and he had a very small window before they stunned him.

"They prevent me from leaving. If you're going to take me you need to get those wards down. And fast." As far as Harry knew, there were three Order members in the house at that time. It wouldn't be long before one slipped out of the fray and alerted the rest.

The Death Eater gave a moment of confused pause before knocking him off his feet with a stunner. He was floated down the stairs and the Death Eater that had found him alerted a few of the others. He saw four from his vantage point. He couldn't move his head at all, so there was likely more that he couldn't see.

He also saw two of the three Order members on the ground. Tonks and Remus. He had no idea where Moody was.

"He said there were wards that prevented him from being taken out of the house," The Death Eater that was levitating him said.

"Why would he tell you that?" A voice that he recognized as Lucius Malfoy's asked.

"I don't have a clue. But if he's right we need to get them down." He was floated out the front door, and as he expected, he hit the barrier and fell to the ground as the Death Eater crossed the threshold. The stunner also automatically dropped, so he stood up and faced the group of seven Death Eaters.

"Moody's not here?" He asked, and no one answered him. One of them stepped back into the wards and pointed their wand at him.

"You need to get this down fast," He said, holding his arms out in an 'I surrender.' Gesture.

"Why are you telling us this?" It was a woman that spoke.

"Just get it down!" He shouted, dancing foot to foot. The one who had their wand pointed at him stunned him once more, and he fell face forward into the lawn. He could just see them from the corner of his eye, and was glad to find that they were indeed dismantling the ward.

It didn't take the seven of them too long, and he was scooped of the grass and apparated away. He could have sworn he saw Dumbledore apparating in before he was sucked through a tube.


	5. May you burn every bridge

(_A/N If I had a dollar for every word I'd written today I'd have like, eight thousand. Any who, enjoy. also, sorry about the weird formatting issues going on at the beginning of each chapter. Blame ffnet.)_

* * *

Well I can't stand to look at you now,

This revelation's out of my hands.

Still I can't bear the thought of you now,

This complication's leaving me scared.

Stay when you think you want me,  
Pray when you need advice.  
Hey keep your sickness off me trying to get through.  
Blame all your weakness on me,  
Shame that I'm so contrite.  
Hey keep your fingers off me, why can't I get through?

You think you have the best of intentions.  
I cannot shake the taste of blood in my mouth.

I keep on thinking that it's,  
all done and all over now.  
You keep on thinking you can save me, save me.  
My ship is sinking but it's,  
all good and I can go down.

* * *

Even though Harry had expected to have been thrown right at the feet of the Dark Lord, that wasn't what happened. He was put in a dungeon in total darkness. His glasses were taken from him and he was frisked for his wand. They were surprised not to find it, but they said little and left him in the cell.

He didn't know why this had happened, and no one came by to tell him so.

So he sat.

And he waited.

And that's how things went, for what felt like two days.

Until Bellatrix showed up.

Her wand lit her path, and Harry saw something other than darkness. There were stairs leading to his cell, and thick black iron bars blocked his way out.

He could barely see the woman before him, but the hair was a dead giveaway.

"Bellatrix," He sighed, not able to summon the anger he so dearly wanted to. This was all her fault. At least, he was pretty sure it was.

"Hello little bitty. You look lovely in there. Are you cold? Can I get you a blanky?"

Despite himself, he laughed.

"Now that you mention it, it's not warm in here."

"It was you, wasn't it?" He said after a moment. He didn't need his glasses to see the grin that formed on her face.

"It was." He decided. Not that it was much of a leap.

"You're a clever little ducky." She said, tilting her head too far to the left to be natural. Harry shrugged one shoulder.

"It really wasn't hard to guess. Why am I in here?" He asked.

"The Dark Lord isn't here right now. But don't worry chicken. He knows you're here and it won't be long until he'll be back to kill you." She giggled and Harry sighed, leaning his head up against the stone wall.

"And I'll get all the credit!" She shouted.

"You can leave anytime. I'm totally okay here by myself." He told her, but he honestly didn't mind.

He just hoped that he could get a word in edge wise before Voldemort shot the killing curse.

* * *

Bellatrix was right when she said it wouldn't take long.

Only a night later a stunner came out of nowhere, and it greatly diminished his hope that he would be able to talk to Voldemort before he was ultimately dead. He was levitated out of the cell for the first time in three days.

He was moved to another room and put face down on the carpet. He could hear footsteps and muffled chatter around him, which told him that there was around five people in the room with him. A few moments later the sounds died down, and he figured he was alone.

Until a voice right next to his head made him squeak.

"Harry Potter." There was no mistaking who the voice belonged to. He made another squeaking noise, this time on purpose, to hopefully get the Dark Lords attention.

"Where are your friends now?"

_Who cares? _He thought desperately.

_I don't care. Just let me out of this stunner for one second and I'll tell you everything. _He knew Voldemort couldn't hear him. He tried to roll, to make eye contact, but that was fruitless.

It turned out the Dark Lord agreed with him though, and he was rolled over with the toe of a boot. Harry hadn't thought he'd ever seen Voldemort without shoes, but then he hadn't really seen much of the man.

He locked eyes with him and tried to emphasize the lack of fear there, the burning need to _say _something. Harry was counting on the man's sadistic need to hear his victims scream.

And, after a few moments of gloating, he delivered. He released Harry's mouth from the stunner, but before he could say a word, crucioed him.

It must have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours. He released it and appeared to be about to cast it again.

"Wait! Wait," The Boy Who Lived panted, hoping that the man might be curious enough to let him talk.

He was.

"I tipped them off. The Death Eaters. I broke the secret. Grimmauld place is mine." He got a raised non-existent eyebrow.

"Bellatrix cursed me. A few weeks ago she-" He was having a hard time getting his heart under control. Not being able to move wasn't helping.

"A curse that made me hate those I love and-" Again, he cleared his throat.

"Want to help my enemies. It worked, I spose, because I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be." He hoped this was enough, because his voice wasn't really on his side right then.

"Bellatrix!" He boomed without warning, making Harry's lip twitch.

She appeared to have been waiting outside the door, because she was in the room seconds later.

"Yes, my Lord?" She bowed low, her voice wavering as if she could sense she was in trouble.

"Did you curse him?" He asked, gesturing to Harry, his voice sickly sweet.

"Oh, yes, my Lord." She said, straightening.

"And you didn't have the mind to tell me?" He continued, examining his wand. She noticed his tone was not one of praise, and cowed again.

"I thought, I thought I would tell you after you killed the brat, my Lord."

"And in what world, Bellatrix, would that information be helpful _after _I killed him?" She seemed to think about that for a moment, before she realized she'd made a mistake.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Crucio." He only held it for a moment before he sent her back out to lick her wounds.

"Idiot," He hissed after her, and Harry couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter in his throat.

"Is that funny," Voldemort wondered, returning his attention to the Boy Who Lived.

"Well, yeah, a little bit."

"Crucio," He said again, this time his wand was directed at Harry. He let it go after a second.

"Funny now?"

"A little bit less." He admitted.

"So what now? Are you still going to kill me?" Harry asked, and the Dark Lords mouth formed a thin line.

"That's not something I want to make a quick decision about. If what you say is true and Bellatrix successfully cursed you to want to serve your enemies, I'm sure you could be of some use. However, curses can be broken." He was talking more to himself by the end of it.

"And if the curse is lifted without my knowing, then you cease to be an asset and become a threat."

"Dumbledore has been searching for a fix since the moment it happened. He didn't have anything as of three days ago." Harry pressed.

"I'll need to find out what kind of spell she used." He muttered, holding his chin with one hand, his arms crossed.

"It looked like a howler. But it was black not red. Smoke looking stuff came out and it said something, I couldn't remember it at first. Then Hermione- she told me what it said."

"What did it say?"

"Something like, may your hatred turn to lust in your heart. May all you're afraid of become all you want. May those you love become those you most hate. May you only find comfort at the side of your enemy. There was more, I think." The Dark Lord was nodding as he spoke.

"May your hatred turn to lust in your chest. May all you fear become all you want. May those you love become those you most despise. May you only find solace at the side of your enemy. May all you hold dear turn to ash by your own hands. May you happily burn every bridge you've ever built." He recited.

"Yeah, that's it," Harry said, surprised that the Dark Lord knew what he was talking about.

"It's- old. So old I'm shocked that she found it. Even more so that she used it. It's a complex curse. There's no singular way to break it, there are many layers- Oh, excuse me," He muttered, flicking his wand. Harry found that he could move. His mouth fell open.

"What, that's it?" He asked, looking at his hands and sitting up.

"The curse isn't going to be broken by accident. You aren't going anywhere, Potter." He said, all but facing away from him as he got to his feet.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know it well. I even used it, once. It got- well. I didn't figure I'd use it again. I tried to break the curse and found that I could not." He was watching Harry intensely with blood red eyes, making the Boy Who Lived want to look away.

"Snape and Dumbledore seem to think that the death of Bellatrix will break it."

The Dark Lord shrugged lightly, which made Harry do a double take.

"It wouldn't." He said with conviction.

"Bellatrix!" He boomed again, and Harry wondered if he was about to test the theory.

"Take Potter to one of the guest wings. I'll put up alarm wards later." He said, waving his hand in dismissal.

"My Lord?" She asked, taking in the obviously bizarre sight of the Dark Lord and Harry Potter having a civil discussion.

"We're keeping him, dear Bella. Consider him a pet. No one enters his room, do you understand?" She looked as though she wanted to press for more answers, but she gave a sharp nod instead.

Harry followed her through the halls, and they didn't pass a single soul on the way to his new quarters. She left him be in the small room.

There was a single bed, a wardrobe and a desk with a chair. The walls were dark blue, almost black. Every possible trimming in the room was the same shade of blue, making the space seem even smaller. Another door in the room led to a bathroom. Harry decided that he was in sore need of a bath.

But there was something he wanted to do first.

He sat at the desk and removed a quill from the holder, dipping it in ink and fishing out a very old looking bit of parchment out of the side drawer.

_Dear Ron and Hermione. _

_Everything is fine. _

_I stopped reading your letters. _

_I wanted to thank you, Ron. Pigwidgeon was a big help to me. _

_I decided I didn't want to stay at the order any more. It was stuffy and the people weren't great company. You understand. _

_Anyway, I'm sure we'll see each other again. _

_Harry Potter._

He left it on the desk, since he didn't have an owl, and made his way to the bathroom.

Things were about to get interesting, he decided as he turned the tap on full blast.

He couldn't bring himself to miss his friends. Or even bring up a shred of affection for the life he was about to leave behind.

He could hear chanting outside the bedroom door, and he figured the Dark Lord had decided to get around to setting up the wards sooner rather than later.

Harry couldn't argue with that logic. Even though Voldemort's men seemed totally loyal, that didn't make them not insane.

He figured that they would instantly question Harry's apparently amiable stay at the manor, which he figured was Malfoy's, and try to kill him.

He wasn't going to be leaving his room for a while.


	6. When your first plan didn't matter

_In the end,_  
_As my soul's laid to rest,_  
_What is left of my body?_  
_Or am I just a shell?_  
_And I have fought,_  
_And with flesh and blood I commanded an army._  
_Through it all,_  
_I have given my heart for a moment of glory._

* * *

The Dark Lord didn't seem to be interested in talking to him. He quickly discovered that the wards around his room were the same as they were in Grimmauld place. He couldn't walk out.

Not only that, but no one could get in. He assumed the exception was Voldemort.

He also knew that alarms went off if anyone tried to get in. Or he tried to leave. He only tried once.

Unlike the protection at Grimmauld place, this one hurt. Trying to walk through it was like an electric shock that started in his bones and shot to his brain. He wasn't going to do it again.

He'd sent the letter to Ron and Hermione. He'd asked a house elf that had been bringing him food for a postal owl, and he was surprised to get one. Granted, it read the letter first.

He was sitting on the floor when someone calling his name broke the monotony. He stood up and opened the door, which was all he could do.

"We don't have much time, come with me!" The man hissed urgently. It was Snape. On a rescue mission.

Harry's eyebrows rose.

"Come right in and get me." He said, stepping back.

And the man was so close to doing it too. He took a small step forward, then stopped, eyeing the door frame suspiciously.

"There are wards, aren't there." He deadpanned. Harry grinned.

Then he stopped grinning when Severus started dismantling them.

"Hey! What are you doing?" He snapped, stepping forward then a little back, afraid of the zap he'd get.

"I'm taking them down," He grumbled, his wand moving fast as he muttered under his breath.

"Voldemort put them up himself you can't really think that you can- Hey! Stop that!" Harry shouted when a loud crack interrupted him.

"I'm skilled in ward removal, Potter." Snape said, and then seemed to stop paying him attention.

If Severus got him out, there was no telling what would happen after that. Would he take him back to Hogwarts? Surely he couldn't be that stupid. The Order headquarters weren't safe either.

But he didn't seem to care about the obvious flaws in his plan, continuing to dismantle the wards while Harry watched with an open mouth.

Okay. If he wanted to play mean, Harry could play mean. He loosened his shoulders and danced foot to foot for a second, then shoulder barged the wards.

The shock put him on his arse, but he got to his feet, glaring at the defence professor as he panted.

_Again, _he told himself, taking a deep breath and running at it once more.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked, momentarily distracted by his antics.

"There's alarms!" Harry shouted over the ringing in his ears. Snape's eyes widened as he tried to bring the protections down faster.

He ran at the wards again, and Snape took a step back, looking up and down the hallway with what might have been fear.

"You should stop." Harry growled, throwing himself at the invisible wall again. Severus paused for a moment.

"If he finds you then your cover is blown for sure," Harry insisted, preparing to run at it again. He didn't know how many more times he could do it without having a seizure.

His words seemed to get through to the greasy haired man though, and he high tailed it down the hallway, mere seconds before Voldemort strolled towards him casually. Snape had missed him by a hairs breadth.

"What are you doing, Potter?" The Dark Lord drawled.

"I'm bored," He panted in response, buckling over and holding his knees.

"You were bored so you decided to cause yourself pain?" If the man had had eyebrows, they would have vanished in his hairline. If he had hair.

"I wanted to talk to you." He insisted, still doubled over.

"And?"

"And what?" Harry asked, looking up at Voldemort through his fringe.

"What did you want to say?" The man was exasperated.

"Come in then?" Harry said, trying to straighten. More raised eyebrows in response.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." He said in state the obvious kind of way.

"What do you mean you can't?" It was Harry's turn to be incredulous.

"The wards, Potter."

"But you put them up?" Harry asked, now more confused than ever. The Dark Lord leaned on the door frame, his face so close to the barrier he must have felt it sizzling.

"Though your feelings have changed, Potter, make no mistake, mine have not. I see you now as a tool, there would be nothing stopping me from walking in here and slaughtering you. And I _do _want to." He grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Couldn't you just take the wards down?" Harry mumbled, unconsciously taking a step back.

"I could. They're mostly there to remind me that you might be useful and it's best not to kill you right now."

"Well how am I going to be useful here?" Harry whined, deciding to ignore the threat on his life.

"I have an idea." Voldemort nodded to himself.

"What is it?" The Boy Who Lived asked, leaning in.

"Severus and Dumbledore think the curse will be broken if Bellatrix dies, am I correct?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah I overheard them. I think they were actually planning to kill her but neither of them could pin down her location."

"Yes I set the meetings so that Snape usually misses the most important people." He nodded to himself again.

"So Bellatrix is one of your most important people?" Harry asked. If that was true, and what Harry assumed the Dark Lord was planning was also the case, he was going to kill her.

"She's insane. But sometimes she does things," He said, gesturing at the teen with a swoop of his hand.

"So what are you going to do then?" He pressed.

"Kill her. Let the Order think that I destroyed the curse without knowing it. Then, we send you back and you play the tiny little martyr that you are."

Harry ignored the insult.

"And do what? I don't think I can be around them. Not without slipping up."

"Get back in Dumbledore's good graces, then kill all of them. If you can't do that, you allow for us to infiltrate the school, then the Order, then the Ministry." Voldemort said, grinning wide again.

"Dream big, right?" Harry sighed, and was surprised when the Dark Lord let out a choking noise that might have been a laugh.

"I'll kill her tonight. Then, you send a distressed secret letter to whomever, telling them where you are and that you won't be safe once I figure out that the curse is broken. I'll arrange for no one to be here in the following days, so that their 'rescue' can go off without a hitch."

"Okay. There's just the problem of not being able to stand any of them. They'll know," Harry pressed this. There was no way that he could control himself around them, let alone pretend to be who he was once.

He wasn't known for containing his anger.

"Where does the biggest issue lie?" Voldemort asked, finally straightening up from the door frame.

"I uh, tend to explode sometimes. It's always been, well, normal for me. But in my last few days there I couldn't contain myself at all. Everything they said made me so angry. I pulled my wand on Ron, screamed in Hermione's face more than once. That was before the curse was even in full swing. Five minutes there and they'll know it's not gone."

The Dark Lord crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on his elbows.

"Alright. There are a few things I can do. Firstly, Dumbledore is a skilled Legillimens. As is Severus. That will be a problem. There are some potions I can brew up for you, to contain your rage."

"Why don't you make those potions for yourself?" Harry quipped.

"I do?" Voldemort looked perplexed.

"Well then I'm not confident about their effects." Before Voldemort could say anything about the insult, Harry continued. "What about Snape and Dumbledore?"

"I can set up some blocks in your mind. Tweak what they will see, rearrange the emotions they see you feeling. But this will only help with the memories of the curse breaking. Once you are there I cannot do anything about the memories of taking the potions or any thoughts you might have about killing your friends."

"They're not my friends," Harry spat.

"Well then, who is?" The Dark Lord asked, amused.

"I guess I don't have any right now." He said.

"I'll send an owl to your window when it's time." Voldemort told him, turning and walking away.

* * *

Harry did as he was told and wrote what was hopefully a frantic letter, then waited until nightfall for the order from the Dark Lord to send it.

Not ten minutes after the sun had vanished from the sky, a small brown barn owl landed on the sill. He tied the letter to it's leg and sent it for Dumbledore. He had thought about sending one to Ron or Hermione, but he figured his old self would have sent it right to the headmaster.

About three hours later Voldemort came to bring down the wards around his room and give him the potions.

There were twelve, in total. He couldn't take more of them, because no more would fit in his pockets. He took two on the spot, double dosing himself.

He didn't think that it would take long for the Order to stage a rescue, and the potions lasted for around twenty four hours.

Voldemort then entered his mind and forcefully rearranged a few things, hiding some memories from view completely, where only Harry could find them.

He was told that the wards around the manor would not allow him to leave, but the Dark Lord had weakened them slightly. He also told him that there were alarms. And that it would not take long for the Death Eaters to respond to these alarms. Though he had told them that no one was to enter the manor for a few days, tops, they would still respond to a distress signal.

Telling them otherwise would cause suspicion, and likely lead back to Dumbledore, through Snape. They needed to make this look like the Dark Lord had no intention of allowing Harry to leave.

Absence of alarms and trap wards would only raise doubt.

He was then left alone to think about what the Boy Who Lived would do in this situation.

He wouldn't be sitting calmly in his room.

But then again, waiting out the front of the manor might also raise suspicion, in the fact that Harry somehow knew the manor was absent of people.

He also needed to keep up the façade of being on the Dark Lord's side while he was there.

So he was torn between pretending to freak out, or staying calm, as he was, and waiting.

He could send another letter, saying that the Dark Lord was absent for some reason or another, and that this was their chance. But forcing the Order's hands might make their minds scream 'Trap!'

But then, wouldn't the Boy Who Lived be desperate to get out?

Yes. He would also be deeply apologetic and shamed. So he would send another letter. This time to Ron and Hermione.

They would be people he'd reach out to, after all. And if they saw the urgency they would push the Order into acting, no extra work required on his part. If they were the ones to shove the Order, they would be much less likely to suspect Harry had anything to do with the shoving.

So he pulled out another bit of parchment and scribbled out a letter fast and hard, so that it looked rushed and barely legible.

_I'm so so sorry _

_The curse is broken he killed Bellatrix now it won't be long before he knows it._

_He's not here, he killed her tonight I felt it when he gets back I don't know what I'll do. He'll see it I know it_

_I'm so sorry I never wanted this to happen_

He tucked the parchment in his pocket and left his room to find an owl.

In the end he got so hopelessly lost that he had to call a house elf.

"Yes, mister?" The female elf asked, not bowing or making any signs of submission.

"I need to send this, can you show me where some owls are?" He asked politely, and the elf finally bowed and turned on its heel. He followed it out into the courtyard and towards what was obviously an owlery. It was much smaller than the one at Hogwarts, the stairs so narrow he had to hug the wall on his way up.

The Darkness wasn't helping his sight, but at least he'd been given his glasses back.

He tied the letter to the first owl he could find, telling it to find Ron or Hermione, preferably Hermione, since she was much more likely to see the window of opportunity he had presented.

After he sent the letter he started feeling the effects of the potions. Any dread that he had been feeling melted away, replaced with supreme confidence and calm. He made his way back to his room and leaned against the door, humming quietly to himself as he waited.

He felt like it was possible to do this. With the help of the potions and a set goal, he might be able to avoid any explosions and get the job done.


	7. Literal

(_A/N watching Harry Potter and the philosopher's stone as I write this. Ahhh, memories.)_

* * *

_I don't mean to, to alarm you_  
_Can't you see now, it overtakes you_  
_You're declining, disintegrating_  
_You're gonna lose it all_  
_This time you're wasting_

_Let it out, let it out_  
_Release the panic_  
_Oh, release the panic_  
_Get it out, get it out, get it out_  
_Release the panic_  
_Oh, release the panic_

_'Cause you're trapped in the countdown_  
_And your days are numbered_  
_Don't you know that you're done for_  
_Right now, lights out_  
_Let your panic out_

_You can feel it, but you're ignoring_  
_It creeps upon you, without a warning_  
_You think you're thriving_  
_But you're decaying_  
_You're gonna lose it all_  
_There's no escaping_

* * *

Harry heard the cracking of spells on the wards, roughly an hour before the sun came up. He ran toward the sound, trying to mimic some sort of panic or fear. When he reached them, he found every member of the Order, and then some.

"I can't get out!" He shouted over the din, searching for Dumbledore's face amongst the group of twenty. When he found him he ran towards him, acting the way he would have been if the curse had been destroyed. He took a step towards the barrier and then stepped back, already feeling the sparks of electricity. He shot a look at the manor behind him, as if he was watching for anyone coming out.

Shortly after that pops of apparition could be heard behind the barrier, behind the Order members.

The Dark Lord wasn't kidding when he said it wouldn't be long. Spells soon cracked through the air, the Order and the faculty of Hogwarts, excluding Snape, formed a circle around the headmaster as he continued bringing down the ward that held Harry in.

The Boy Who Lived started pacing inside the shimmering wall, wringing his hands. As soon as a small opening started at the base he crawled through it as fast as he could. He stood with his back to Dumbledore, his arms raised, though he didn't have a wand.

The Headmaster grabbed his arm as more Death Eaters apparated in.

Seconds later, he felt the tell-tale pull behind his navel and he couldn't help the burst of joy in his stomach. He'd done it.

He was in.

* * *

He was taken straight to the hospital wing, where he was looked over my madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore and Severus.

He was still mad at Snape for his attempt at breaking him out, so it wasn't hard to hold a glare when it came to him, as it should have been, if the curse was gone.

He assumed that the both of them had entered his mind during this time, and since neither of them started shouting and stunning hi, he guessed he was in the clear for now.

He tried not to think about the potions in his pockets, and feigned exhaustion to get the professors to leave him alone.

He was allowed to leave come afternoon, and Ron and Hermione were ecstatic to see him, since they hadn't been allowed to visit him in the wing, until the two men were sure that everything was fine. They threw themselves on him, and he found that it wasn't too difficult to hug them back.

He had a numb indifference instead of seething hatred.

He would need to talk the potion again soon, though. He was sure he could feel it wearing off.

With this thought in mind he made his way to his dorm, saying that he wanted a shower. They left him be, but told him to hurry back to the common room. He agreed and smiled, then raced up the stairs.

The room was empty, as he had hoped.

He took the bottles out of his pockets and placed them in the top drawer of his bed side table. All of them were label free, except one, that looked to have a piece of parchment tied around it with string.

He picked this one back up and untied the paper, rolling it off the bottle and taking a closer look.

_Where the curse says 'May your hatred turn to lust,' it is _not _a metaphor for something else. It is very literal. I would ask you to keep this in mind. The last person cursed as such, I killed. _

Harry stared at the note for a long moment, what it meant ticking over in his mind. Literal? Literal as in he was going to start wanting to have sex with Voldemort?

He shook his head and laughed nervously, scrunching the note in one hand, uncorking the bottle with the other. He downed it then made his way to the showers.

His clothes must have still been at Grimmauld Place, and he wondered why no one had gone to get them for him.

Then he remembered that he let the Death Eaters in and he giggled.

He'd need new clothes.

There was no way he was going to want to bonk the Dark Lord. He might strongly, and suddenly, admire the man, but there was no way.

* * *

Three days later and Harry was doubting his previous conviction. He'd started having strange dreams, dreams that woke him up in a cold sweat, though not entirely all of him was cold.

He'd done well so far in playing pretend, and as far as he knew neither the headmaster nor the defence professor had entered his mind again.

He had six potions left, and he wasn't sure what would happen when he ran out. Would they be owled to him? Surely not. He figured by now Dumbledore was watching his post. He also doubted that the man would turn up himself and hand them over.

But he had six days till it was a problem.

He had something else to occupy his mind, besides.

Trying to lay low was hard enough without sexual dreams featuring the Dark Lord to distract him.

Another three days passed in the same manner, Ron and Hermione still trying to get all the details of his stay in the manor out of him.

He told them that he remembered it all, but he didn't want to talk about it. He put on a shamed face every time, and so far they'd switch right into empathy mode, apologizing for asking. Dumbledore wanted to see him often as well, and each time he'd force all his more incriminating thoughts down as far as they would go.

He didn't know if the man was reading his mind or not, but he thought he was getting better at keeping them under wraps, anyway.

He'd avoided Snape the same way he used to, averting his eyes and cringing every time the man was close. All in all, Harry thought he was doing a great job.

He was careful not to get angry with his 'friends' about anything, though every time either one of them so much as looked at him, he wanted to kick them in the mouth.

He had three potions left and hadn't heard a thing about getting more, which was starting to stress him to the point where he could almost feel it underneath the elixir's calming effects. He'd thought about trying to reach out, maybe sneaking out of the wards and sending Hedwig, but there were too many people watching him closely for that to be a good idea.

So he just waited.

* * *

It was a Tuesday, and potions was his last lesson before lunch. It was with Slytherin, and this gave him an idea.

Slughorn was stupid, and though Harry was sure that he had been told to keep a close eye on him, he figured he had a good chance of getting something done while the man wasn't looking.

He was more concerned about Ron and Hermione.

Before the lessons started he quickly wrote a note for Malfoy, asking him to meet him in front of boy's bathroom during lunch.

He hoped the Slytherin would listen, because this was the only idea he'd had so far that might actually work.

Once he was in the potions classroom and seated between Ron and Hermione, he started forming a plan. Luckily, today was a potion making day, not a theory day. Hermione noticed this and stood up from her desk, waving forlornly and her friends and going to sit by Neville.

Ron groaned and leaned back in his seat, glaring at the board of instructions in the front of the room.

Harry took this to mean the red head wasn't planning on doing much so he stood up and went over to the ingredients storage cupboard. Malfoy was seated not far from this, and on his way back he looked at both his friends and the professor, glad to find Ron picking his nails absently and Hermione staring intently at the board before she got her ingredients. Slughorn had his back turned.

Harry dropped the note right under Malfoy's nose and kept walking back to his table as if it had never happened.

He hoped it would work, because he was running out of options.

He excused himself from the Gryffindor table during lunch, saying he needed to go to the bathroom. He hadn't looked at the Slytherin table for fear of someone noticing, so he didn't know if Draco was already going to be there.

He'd shown no sign of acknowledging Harry's note.

He needn't have worried. He found the Slytherin waiting around outside the door, examining his fingers.

"What do you want?" He hissed when Harry was in earshot.

"Sorry to hear about your aunt," He said, dragging the teen into the bathroom.

"She's why I disappeared for a while. She cursed me a while back. Anyway, what I need for you to do, is take any letters I give to you and send them to the Dark Lord." Harry whispered, watching the door carefully.

"What are you trying to say!?" He shouted, and Harry jammed his hand over the blondes face.

"Shut up! Things are different. I'm- I'm helping him. But right now I can't do anything on my own, and I need to talk to him." Harry pressed, dancing foot to foot.

"You're helping him are you kidding?! There's no way I'm falling for this." He stormed out of the bathroom before Harry could stop him.

The Boy Who Lived growled, punching the door the Draco had just left through.

Another two days passed and Harry decided to forgo his potion for the day. If there was no way to get more, then he would need to space it out.

He'd written a letter any way.

_It's happening. What you said would. The literal thing. But I can handle it._

_I'm running out of potions. Like I told you I can't be here without them, there's no way they won't notice me suddenly killing everyone. _

_If you want this to work I need more. It's going okay so far but today I didn't take it. I'm hiding away from them right now, pretending I don't feel well. They've left me alone and I have one more, but after that I can't say how long I can do it. _

He didn't sign it, Voldemort would know who it came from. If only he could get Malfoy to send it.

The next morning he had an opportunity to talk to Malfoy again. He'd taken his broom to the Quiddich pitch and found the Slytherin there with three other housemates of his. Goyle, Crabbe and Parkinson.

He took the letter out of his pocket and shoved it into the blonde's chest.

"Read it. Whatever. Just send it or things will get crazy around here, Draco." Harry said, looking around the pitch, then kicking off the ground and into the air before anyone saw him talking with them.

He could see Malfoy reading it below, surprisingly leaning away from his friends as he did so. Harry flew in lazy circles, waiting for a sign that he would do what the Boy Who Lived had asked.

After a moment Malfoy gave a wave and wandered off the pitch.

Harry took this to mean he was going to do it, and a weight lifted off his chest.

He got his reply the next morning. Malfoy shoved into him in the corridor on the way to breakfast, saying something along the lines of 'watch where you're going, Potter.' But Harry felt him put something inside his inner robe pocket.

As he sat down at the table and felt inside his pocket, he was relieved to feel two small bottles there, as well as a letter.

He ate quickly then excused himself, saying he'd forgotten something in the tower.

As soon as he was inside the common room he pulled the letter out of his pocket and read it as he ascended the stairs, to put the potions in his drawer.

_The woman I cursed was absolutely uncontrollable by the time I killed her. It was honestly the most disturbing thing that has ever happened to me. _

_And I didn't care about her. She was a nobody, a test. I didn't care what happened to her either way, I just knew she considered me her biggest enemy. _

_But you, I _hate _you. _

_So you had better keep it under control if you wish to live. _

_I've enclosed two more potions. _

_Don't do anything stupid._

Harry noticed he was tracing the letters with the tip of his finger and stopped doing it promptly.

He couldn't say that he wasn't concerned about this strange new development, but he was glad to have more potions.


	8. Undone by dreaming

Tying yourself to me,  
Stitch up my emptiness cause you're the death of me.  
So precious loving the thrill.

Such the patient one who needs me,  
the spoiled one who wins.  
So shocking where's your sense;  
Don't you know I hate you.

* * *

Harry didn't know if the Dark Lord had cut the dose down, or he had been building a resistance, but it wasn't working as well as it used too. He couldn't imagine why Voldemort would lower it, considering how important this was.

He hadn't put much thought into what the Dark Lord had said about killing them.

He wasn't sure if he could do that, but at least he had been given another option. Allow them to infiltrate.

He wasn't sure which would be harder.

Bring down the wards or kill Dumbledore.

Harry had decided that Dumbledore was the pinnacle of the Order, so if he died, it would prove to be an incredible blow.

But was Harry even anywhere close to strong enough? He had his wand back, which was great, but Dumbledore, as much as he hated to admit it, was the only man the Dark Lord feared.

Which put a certain amount of fear into him.

All this was likely to be contributing to the potions less than satisfactory results, not to mention the growing urge to just forget about all of it and find the Dark Lord and convince him to do naughty things to his no no place.

Just the mere thought of it shocked him so hard that sometimes he found himself using walls to hold himself up. It was insanity.

It was once such time when he needed to use the wall for support when McGonagall approached him.

"Mister Potter? The Headmaster would like to see you." She was watching him carefully, as they always were. He nodded and followed her down the hallway.

Dumbledore hadn't asked to see him this early in the day before, and a bit of worry had formed in his gut.

She led him the statue and said the password. When he walked up the stairs he was surprised that she followed, which only served to worry him further. He swallowed hard and sat down in front of the old man.

"Good morning Harry."

The Boy Who Lived nodded sharply, a feeling of dread consuming him for some reason. McGonagall was standing between him and the exit. This made him slowly reach into his pocket for his wand. Not that he could possibly beat the both of them if they decided to draw theirs.

"We've noticed that you've been using a lot of magic at night." Dumbledore said, narrowing his eyes.

Harry's eyebrows rose a little and his cheeks went red.

He had been using a lot of magic at night. Cleaning charms. Every dream he had now was a wet dream, much to his embarrassment.

"I didn't know you could tell if a student was using magic," Harry mumbled.

"Would you like to tell me why?" The Headmaster continued, ignoring Harry's indignation. He didn't say anything for a moment, images from the dreams flashing in his head before he quietly said; "Scorgify,"

"I see," Dumbledore was frowning.

"Well this is a shame," He mumbled, and before Harry could say anything, he was hit with a stunner from behind.

He fell to the floor and felt his wand being snatched from his hand. Then he assumed it was McGonagall who tied them behind his back.

"Are you sure?" She asked, seeming shaken.

"Yes. I saw it in his mind. The curse is not broken." The Headmaster was forlorn. And Harry was furious. He fought against the stunner to no avail, and he was levitated out of the office with no gentleness.

He was taken to the dungeons, and on the way there was no shortage of students who took in the scene with wide eyes. Including Ron and Hermione, who ran after them, shouting.

Harry saw Malfoy once they were further into the castle, and he tried to give him a meaningful look. Draco knew that Harry was involved with something the Dark Lord planned, and might have been able to guess that this meant he had been caught out.

He could feel the stunner wearing off once they reached the dungeons, and he was chained to a wall by his arms, that were still tied behind him. He was on his knees, trying to lift his head or say something.

Ron and Hermione were still defending him, still shouting about how wrong this was.

"What do we do?" McGonagall asked, interrupting the young Gryffindor's tirade. Harry was finally able to lift his head and look at them, and when he did, he glared.

"You're best bet is to kill me you fucking maggots." He snapped, and Hermione went white. Ron took a step forward and tried to touch him on the shoulder.

"Mate-"

"Don't touch me!" Harry screamed, spitting in the red heads face.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, looking like he was about to cry when he moved away to stand by Hermione, who was crying.

"So what's the plan, Headmaster? Lord knows you never prepare for the worst." Harry laughed his shoulders shaking.

"I do plan for the worst, my boy." He said, looking into Harry's eyes. The Boy Who Lived looked away, staring at the stone floor instead.

"No one can know about this. It would cause worldwide panic." McGonagall said, wringing her hands.

"I agree completely, Minerva." The headmaster said.

"We take him to Azkaban." He continued, and Harry's mouth fell open.

"You can't do that!" Both Hermione and Ron yelled in unison.

"I agree with them!" Harry yelped, pulling against his restraints. If there was one thing he still hated, it was Dementors.

"Albus," McGonagall said, sounding surprised.

"The curse is not broken and Bellatrix Lestrange is dead. Until we find something to break it, there is no other option."

"What if it wasn't her who cursed him?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah! It totally wasn't her!" Harry pitched in.

"I am sorry, Harry. But there is no other way."

The Boy Who lived felt like he couldn't breathe. Azkaban.

"No one tells anyone where he is, do you understand? This does not leave this room. If someone asks, he's been sent to Saint Mungos." Dumbledore said over the fierce whispering going on between Ron and Hermione.

Harry decided there was no one he hated more than the old man before him.

"We move him tonight, when the students are in bed." The Headmaster said with finality, before ushering everyone out of the room.

* * *

Come nightfall, Harry was ready to chew his arms off at the shoulders. When Dumbledore and McGonagall turned up to transport him, he couldn't do anything but scream. So loudly that the Headmaster silenced him with his wand. He was then stunned and unchained, taken out of the dungeon and out of the castle entirely.

He couldn't breathe, and it had nothing to do with the stunner.

He was taken to the ministry first, to his surprise. They took him to a dark skinned man who gave Dumbledore a sharp nod when he was told to keep quiet about this. He was even subjected to an unbreakable vow.

Then the man took him by the arm and turned on the spot.

He'd been taken straight to the wizard prison after that, given a cell with no bars and a sign on the door that said;

"Extremely dangerous, no human contact."

He was dumped inside unceremoniously and left alone.

Harry could already feel the Dementors around him, sucking every bit of hope that he had of someone breaking him out.

There was nothing in his cell but a hole in the floor that he assumed he was supposed to do his business in. The only light came from the tiny gap under the door.

"Shit," He moaned.

He was horrified. No one knew he was here. No one who mattered. And even if the Dark Lord did somehow find out, he would leave him there. Of that he was sure.

He'd failed in what he had been told to do, and now Dumbledore knew the curse remained. He was useless.

He wasn't getting out.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was weighing his options.

He'd seen the headmaster and McGonagall taking Harry somewhere deep into the school, and the situation didn't look friendly.

He knew that Harry was in cahoots with the Dark Lord. That much was clear in the way that he had been thanked and not killed for delivering his letter. He had also replied to the Boy Who Lived, supplying the potions he had asked for.

Draco hadn't read the letter, he couldn't even if he tried. It was spelled to only be opened by Potter.

He hesitated for one more second before he decided he would likely get in more trouble for not saying anything.

_Potter's in trouble. I saw Dumbledore taking him to the dungeons. He was stupifeyed and tied up. Whatever he was trying to do, he was caught out._

He tied the letter to the waiting owl and sent it to his family's manor.

* * *

Voldemort's lips were pursed as he read this.

On one hand, good.

On the other, fantastic.

On the third, however, not so great.

Having Potter dangling off his finger like a little puppet would bring him serious pull in the coming war. People would jump of the sinking Dumbledore ship faster than he could blink.

And that sounded nice.

Potter was a useless idiot, but he had a lot of people ready to follow him to the grave.

And that was enough to make the Dark Lord stand up and sigh heavily.

* * *

Draco heard the story that Potter had been taken to Saint Mungos and he wasn't buying it for a second.

The way Weasley and Granger moped around you'd think he was dead.

He'd watched those two carefully.

He'd received a letter from the Dark Lord himself to find out where the Boy Wonder had been taken. And he figured his best bet was the two other parts of the Golden Trio.

It only took three days before he figured it out.

The two Gryffindor's were in the library and Draco was hiding behind a shelf within earshot.

"Do you think he's okay?" The Weasley asked for the third time in half an hour.

"No, Ronald, I don't." Granger said.

"But Azkaban! It's extreme," The ginger said, and Draco did a fist pump. Granger sushed him, but it was too late. Malfoy snuck out of the shelves and headed straight to the owlery.

* * *

Azkaban. Of freaking course, Azkaban.

Why had he thought anything would be easy when it came to the Chosen One?

He preferred the little twat as an enemy.

There was nowhere near as much work involved.

He touched the Dark Mark on his arm with his wand and waited. It was best to get this ball rolling sooner rather than later.

The less time Potter spent in the wizard prison, the better. There was no telling how crazy the little shit would get in there. It had already been three days.

(_A/N Short chapter. Sue me.)_


	9. Be brutal

_(A/N Like every other story I've written for ffnet, it has no direction. I have a vague idea of what will happen through the next few chapters. I also barely edit. It's just how I roll. Sometimes I don't even reread chapters before I post, in a true devil may care fashion. Anyway, as with LT, this might just wind up finished. Or, as with Thank You, spider in your mind and Hired Help, it might not.)_

* * *

Leave me alone it's nothing serious  
I'll do it myself  
It's got nothing to do with you  
And there's nothing that you could do

You can see it and you can almost hear it too  
You can almost taste it  
It's nothing to do with you  
And there's still nothing that you can do

So come in my cave  
And I'll burn your heart away  
Come in my cave  
I'll burn your heart away

Please close your ears  
And try to look away  
So you never hear a single word I say  
And don't ever come my way

* * *

"He's gone," Dumbledore's voice shook as he spoke, and Minerva straightened in her chair.

"Who's gone, Albus?" Though she had a fair idea who he was talking about.

"Harry. He's gone." There was a broken tone to the Headmasters voice. McGonagall could only blink at him in horror.

This could mean the end. If they didn't find a way to break the curse put on the Boy Who Lived, if they didn't find him, period, then there would be hell to pay.

* * *

Harry couldn't say he wasn't damn glad to be out of Azkaban. But he'd been placed back in his room, stunned while the Dark Lord came to replace the wards at the door, as if he was a dangerous animal.

And in a manner, he was. He'd been in the wizard prison for five days, and though that wasn't a long time by any stretch of the imagination, it was plenty enough time for the curse to light his blood like it was gasoline.

His aching need to be near the Dark Lord, to touch him, was enough to block out the soul sucking sorrow that Azkaban offered.

The room was no better than the cell he'd been in, in that respect. Even while he was motionless on the floor, he could feel that he had an erection.

And it was maddening.

The mere thought of Voldemort made his mind swim.

He honestly didn't know why the Dark Lord had bothered to rescue him. He'd been mighty surprised when the door to his cell was blasted inwards and he was dragged out by Death Eaters. The Dementors pretended it wasn't happening. He'd figured that the four people that had come to bust him out were part of Voldemort's inner circle, which lead him to believe that he was being kept a secret.

By the time Harry got to his feet, the Dark Lord was still outside his door. Just standing there.

"What was the point of that?" Harry said before he could say anything sexual. He knew it would only get him in trouble.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, ignoring Harry's question. He know that the man was more than likely asking about his attraction to him. How far it had progressed.

"Can't you see the rainbows of joy shooting from my eye balls?" He deadpanned.

"Because they're totally there." He continued, coming closer to the barrier and glaring at the Dark Lord behind it.

"I got you out because you are an invaluable political token. You're honestly a media sensation. How many people do you think would follow you if word got out about you being here of your own free will?"

"I'm not here of my own free will you stole me-"

"Shut up." Voldemort snapped.

"Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But just telling people I'm here isn't going to convince anyone. Dumbledore's got it under wraps. He's told everyone I'm in Mungos for something unrelated."

"Well, then, it might be best to get you out of this room and out into the world." Voldemort grinned, and then walked away.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" He shouted at the wards.

"You will see," The Dark Lord called back.

* * *

And he did see.

The next night three masked Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself came to stand in front of his door, which he had left open, much to the chagrin of Voldemort.

He got off his bed and stood right before the barrier, preparing to jump at the Dark Lord as soon as the wards came down, which was what seemed to be the plan.

"Wands at the ready. He's completely insane." The Dark Lord drawled, before he raised his wand and brought the wards down with a single flick.

Harry was stunned mid stride.

"Malfoy, the restraints." Voldemort said as the Boy Who Lived glared at him from the floor. His arms were shackled, though not together. A metal muzzle was put on his face, covering his mouth and nose.

They didn't bother levitating him. Two of the masked men grasped his ankles and dragged him down the hall. He was brought into what looked to be a foyer, albeit a large one, and chained to the wall by his wrists, then left alone with the Dark Lord.

"I'm sending you on a raid." He said after a moment.

"Fantastic," Harry tried to say, but it came out as gibberish through his muzzle.

"You'll need a wand." He said, pulling one from his pocket. He opened Harry's robes and slid it into his inner pocket. Harry whimpered all through this. His erection was obvious with his robe open. The Dark Lord closed them back up again, his eyebrows raised.

"This had better not become a problem, Potter. Control yourself."

The Boy Who Lived shifted uncomfortably and glared.

How was he supposed to control it? It was magic. It wasn't as if he'd suddenly got a penchant for the Dark Lord on his own accord.

Voldemort walked away and sat in the chair on the raised dais on the other side of the room. Harry watched his every move like a hawk. Not much later, people started popping into the room, some in pairs.

All of them noticed him. And no one looked away until the room was full of around a hundred Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord spoke.

"You may have noticed Harry Potter strung up on the wall." He said quietly, but everyone heard him, and looked back at the Boy Who Lived.

"You may also have heard about the small rescue mission staged recently. We took Potter from Azkaban." Hushed whispers followed his words.

"He was put there by the man who posed as his guardian. And, as a mercy, I have taken him in; on the terms that he does what I say." The whispers grew louder and Voldemort had to silence them.

"He is also under the effects of a curse that make him quite brutal. Hence the chains. He will be joining you all tonight, to show the world where his allegiance lies. He is to be escorted from the manor in chains, and only to be let out of them once he is face to face with our enemies. Afterwards, he is to be rechained by whatever means necessary, and brought back to me unharmed, is that clear?"

A moment of silence followed his words, before they all bowed in unison.

Voldemort stood and came towards him, placing a finger on his cheek. Harry jammed his eyes closed and bit his tongue.

"You will be brutal, won't you, Potter?" He asked, and Harry gave a shaky nod.

'_Good,' _He hissed in parseltongue, and Harry threw his head back, breaking contact with the Dark Lord.

"Take him down, then get started." Voldemort told the group, then he left the room, much to Harry's annoyance. He was removed from the wall. He didn't fight, merely following the man who led him like a dog to the centre of the room.

The Death Eaters took this moment to laugh uproariously at Harry's predicament. The elder Malfoy took his arm and side-along apparated him out of the manor.

They stood before a manor even larger than Malfoys. He could physically see the wards, thick and swirling blue, like a dome.

He remained chained, and Malfoy held the end of it, occasionally yanking on it in an unnecessary way.

He was led right up to the wards where two of the Death Eaters removed his shackles and muzzle. He took the wand that the Dark Lord had placed in his pocket out, aiming it at the wards. Everyone watched him. He was the first to fire a curse at it.

Soon after, everyone followed.

He didn't ask where they were or what they were doing, or why they needed a hundred people to do it.

He was the first to crack a hole in the barrier, and ducked through it before anyone else could. He had a lot of rage in his gut. Rage and something more sexual and frustrating, which sent him running towards the building with curses on the tip of his tongue, wanting to inflict some serious damage.

"Wait," A voice behind him hissed, grabbing his arm. He spun and pointed a wand at the persons face, hissing nonsensically.

"Don't touch me," He eventually ground out.

"There are traps, and a lot more guards in there than you can handle on your own." He didn't know who he was talking to, only that it was a man.

"Where are we?" Harry eventually asked, looking back over at the wards and the Death Eaters fighting each other to get in.

"This is the Ministers home," The man said, and Harry let out a whistle.

The Boy Who Lived raised his wand to the sky and shouted; "Mosmorde!" The Dark Mark grew there, and Harry figured the wand was a pretty good fit.

"Wow, okay," The man said, firing curses at the wards from the inside.

"Wow what?" Harry asked, still looking at the Dark Mark.

"I just wasn't aware you knew that spell." The man said. He didn't recognize his voice, and he didn't think he knew him at all.

"Look at them. Totally useless." He said, gesturing to the Death Eaters who had stopped firing curses at the barrier, instead trying to force themselves through the hole Harry had created. The man began chanting and waving his wand at the wards, and Harry figured he was trying to dismantle them completely.

"Keep firing at it. Hit them, if you like, might knock some sense into them." He told Harry, and he did as he was asked, now more curious about who this Death Eater was.

"Who are you?" He wondered, surprised to meet someone with some wit about him in all this.

"I'm not going to tell you who I am!" He laughed, pausing in his chanting.

"You're Harry Potter." He said, as if he had forgotten.

"Right, whatever," He said, firing more random curses around the Death Eaters feet, secretly hoping to hit one. Some of them seemed to figure that the current plan wasn't working, and started throwing spells at the barrier again.

Harry was itching to fight, wanting someone to come and stop them.

"Are these wards alarmed?" He asked, wondering where the cavalry was.

"Yes, they are, Aurors should be here soon. Might even be some inside." The man muttered, still focused on the wards.

Harry managed to get the hole bigger, meaning that more than half the Death Eaters had come to stand around them. Some had joined the unknown man in dismantling the barrier, others just stared at him as he shot spells all over the place.

It felt good to be doing magic. Not just shitty school magic. Life or death magic. Frantic and rushed magic.

He was almost laughing when the rest of Voldemort's followers were through the wards, and they moved as one toward the building.

It turned out the alarm was on the threshold, not the wards. Seconds after they crossed it, the fight was on.

Harry did laugh then, throwing curses everywhere, hitting anyone and everyone who happened to be in front of him.

Luckily, the Death Eaters saw this and mostly stayed out of his way.

They mowed down the first fifty without an issue. He saw one Auror take a look at him and pop right back out.

_Good,_ Harry thought. At least one person needed to make it out alive, to tell the tale that he had seen Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, surrounded by Death eaters and firing curses by their side.

He learned that they weren't there to kill the Minister, just scare the pants off him. Which they did. He had immediately apparated out of the building as soon as the alarm had gone off.

They trashed the house as they went, destroying thousands of expensive looking trinkets, some of which smoked and sizzled upon destruction.

It was over too soon for Harry's liking, and Malfoy chained him up and returned him to the Manor.

The mystery man didn't leave the Boy Who Lived's side throughout the fray, and he grew more and more curious about him. He didn't seem mad, or power hungry, like the rest of them. He remained level headed through the whole battle, even when Harry himself hadn't. He decided that the Dark Lord needed a man like that on his side, and decided to tell Voldemort that he needed a promotion.

If Death Eaters got promotions.


	10. Something's not right here

(A/n Since there's been some confusion, there are songs at the beginning of each chapter. I'll list song names and artists from now on. This one is something's not right here, by OneRepublic.)

Come, come, my dear  
Take flight, come near  
I see your fear creeping around you  
First love, then hate, then love, no, wait  
Your confusion, it's gonna kill me  
I broke for you, I woke for you  
You taught me through, God love you,  
I see the signs are out of line  
No fault of mine  
Except for don't say his name now

I'm breaking out, something ain't right here  
You're falling out something ain't here

The scream, I burn  
What's that, you say  
Your cloud it's telling you lies now  
You hear my voice,  
You make some noise  
You stole my choice  
It's over now

* * *

He'd gone on two more raids since the first, and word was spreading that Harry was not in Saint Mungos, but somewhere much more sinister.

Of course it was heartily denied. Everyone was claiming that he was under the Imperious, that it wasn't even Harry but someone using the Polyjuice potion, that he had had his mind wiped, anything to help them sleep at night.

Though it was true that he wouldn't be here if he hadn't been cursed, it wasn't about to change. Voldemort wasn't about to tell him how, if he even knew, and even if he did, the Boy Who Lived didn't think he'd do anything about it anyway.

So he sat in his room between raids and waited.

The Dark Lord would occasionally stop by and stare at him, presumably to see how Harry would react.

And each time, Harry didn't even move or acknowledge his presence.

He didn't figure licking the barrier would help him any.

He'd taken to lying on the floor most of the time, imitating a starfish, staring at the ceiling.

This was once such time, and a voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"This is a sad sight. I'd heard you leave the door open." Harry rolled off the floor and faced the voice.

He recognised it. The mystery man from the raids.

"I know you. I told Voldemort that you need a promotion." He said, and the brown haired man grinned.

Harry thought he was pretty good looking. Dark brown eyes and hair the same shade, which hung just past his ears. His nose was thin and perfect, as if he'd never been hit in his life.

"Did you?" He laughed.

"What did he say?"

"He didn't know who I was talking about, because I pretty much said the smart guy with the mask." The man laughed harder and ran his hand through his hair.

"Well, I'm kind of offended that he didn't know who you were talking about." He said, and Harry could swear that he knew him from somewhere.

"Do I know you? I mean, were we enemies?" He could feel a strange pull to him, as if they had once strongly disliked each other.

"Not personally. We've never met, or anything. But I'm a Death Eater and you're Harry Potter. These wards are impressive," He said, changing the subject.

"I'm good with wards. It's kind of, my thing. But these. The Dark Lord created them?"

Harry nodded.

"With little more than a flick of his wand."

The man whistled.

"So, I'm not really here to have a friendly chat. I'm curious. How is it you came to be here? What changed? It must have been colossal." He asked, sitting on the ground and crossing his legs. Harry mimicked his actions without thinking.

"Something changed. It was colossal. It was fast too, like being hit by lighting." He said, wondering how much he should tell this stranger. He hardly knew the man, but he was drawn to him.

"Have you seen this?" He asked suddenly, pulling a newspaper clipping out of his pocket and holding it out for him to see.

**The Boy Who Lived a Death Eater?**

He pulled it back before Harry could read any of the fine print.

"I think they might be catching on," He said, scanning the paper himself.

"So something changed and here you are," He changed the subject a lot. Like a humming bird flitting from flower to flower.

"Yeah," Harry said, not really sure he should say anything else.

"What about those two you got around with?" He asked, and Harry shrugged, assuming he meant Ron and Hermione.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Well I figured that they'd follow your every move," He continued, still reading the newspaper.

"Uhh, not really. We kind of, fell out." The man blinked at him for a moment, waiting for him to explain.

"It's a long story." He said after a moment.

"Ah. Well I'd imagine it's lonely in there,"

"What do you propose I do? Invite them over for tea? In the Malfoy manor? With the Dark Lord probably wandering around somewhere?" Harry laughed.

"Well you could always meet them somewhere else," The man mused.

"They'd bring the Order for sure," Harry said with certainty. The brown haired man shrugged.

"Just an idea. Do you literally just sit there all day until something comes up?" He asked.

"Yup. I'm totally out of control, remember?" Harry reminded him.

"Yeah. What curse were you hit with, anyway?" He leaned close to the barrier and squinted at the Boy Who Lived.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Harry said seriously, leaning in as well. He raised his eyebrow conspiratorially.

"Well that's ominous. Anyway. I'll leave you to laying on the floor." Harry felt a pang when he said this. It was the first time in a long time that he'd had a proper conversation. He didn't want to let it go. But he nodded anyway and watched the stranger leave.

* * *

It was another two days before the stranger came back. In that time Harry hadn't left his room once, and was going mental.

"Hi there. Just dropping these off. Some reading materials. I've got to get ready for a meeting." He said, throwing a few books through the barrier and not stopping.

"Hey!" Harry called after him, but he was gone.

He picked the books up, three of them. All of them pertaining to potions, which he thought was strange. Strange and useless, he hated potions.

But nevertheless he put them on the desk and flipped one open, such was his boredom.

He hoped that the stranger was headed to a meeting that would later involve a raid, but that wasn't always the case.

A few minutes later, Lucius walked past the room, pausing at the door to glare at the Boy Who Lived, then continuing down the hall at a brisk pace.

Harry had done nothing but raise his eyebrow at the man.

The teen was slowly discovering that it was possible for some of the effects of the curse to be reversed by shear will.

Those that he had come to like, for example. It was possible for him to go right ahead and dislike them again.

Bellatrix and Snape were on that list.

Try as he might though, he couldn't shake his new found attraction to the Dark Lord. He wanted to ask the man about it, ask if it was possible to maybe care about the people he used to, and why, no matter how Voldemort mistreated him, the feeling wouldn't shake when it came to the Dark Lord.

But he hadn't seen the man in a while. Not even in passing.

Sometimes he liked to stand just out of view and watch Harry.

The Chosen One knew he was there. He felt it. But he ignored it. No good could come from saying anything.

The meeting didn't result in a raid, as Harry had hoped, but the night did bring something useful with it.

When he dreamt that night, it was not the Dark Lords face he saw.

It was the stranger's.

When he woke up, everything clicked together.

The way he had never seen the stranger and the Dark Lord in the same room. He'd searched a few times, looking for the tell-tale mask that the man wore. All masks were different. But he had never seen it. Then the Dark Lord would leave, Harry would be removed from the wall and suddenly, magically, the stranger would appear.

Through every raid they fought side by side, back to back. He'd saved Harry's ass more times than he could count, when his rage got the better of him. It made sense for the Dark Lord to personally protect his best asset.

It was impossible to deny that Harry felt a draw to the man, but he hadn't been able to figure out why.

Until now.

The stranger _was _Voldemort.

And Harry was planning to use this information to make things interesting. He wasn't going to tell the man that he knew. He was going to make him admit it.

He needed to control himself though. If he went on another raid with Voldemort disguised as this stranger, it wouldn't do to forcefully snog him.

But now that he knew, he imagined it would be harder to resist.

He felt fantastic that he had figured it out though, things were going to get a whole lot more entertaining.

Two more days passed before he came back.

"Have you read the books?" The man, the Dark Lord, asked.

Harry was laying on his bed, his arms spread out so they were hanging off the bed. He scoffed at the man's words.

"Maybe three pages,"

"I figured it would give you something to do." He pressed, leaning against the door frame in a very Voldemort manner.

"Oh? Reading potions books? Do I strike you as interested?" Harry said, finally rolling off the bed and wandering lazily toward the wards.

"No, I didn't figure you would be."

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

"I already told you, I can't tell you that."

"Well make something up. Yelling 'Oi you!' During a raid doesn't sit well." Harry said, crossing his arms and leaning against the opposite side of the door frame. He laughed, and Harry was amazed with his acting skill. It seemed genuine, be he knew better.

"Alright. Call me, hmm. Call me Elius." He said, and Harry gave a sharp nod.

"What does it mean?" The Boy Who Lived asked.

"I don't know. Sounds alright though." He laughed again. If Harry wasn't dead certain that this was Voldemort he was speaking to, he might have doubted himself.

He was a brilliant actor, but then he had heard as much. How he had manipulated hundreds into doing his bidding. He was charming, there was no doubt about that.

But the harder Harry looked, the more he could see the thickly veiled disgust in his eyes.

Harry would change that.

He was determined. And not much stood in his way, when he was determined.

He just wondered what it was that the Dark Lord was trying to gain from this. Parading as Harry's friend was a strange thing to do. He didn't know what the man hoped to gain, he hadn't asked many questions, and seemed to only offer him guidance.

Which was bizarre behaviour.

"So what is it you want from me?" Harry asked, cutting to the quick.

"Oh? What do you mean?" His eyebrows raised.

"Well, what's the point in bringing me books? Fighting by my side during the raids?" He pressed.

"I'm curious about you. About the curse. Is that good enough for you?" He smirked.

"Yeah, the curse. It's not really what the Dark Lord says it is." Harry said, gauging the man's reaction. He seemed taken aback for a second, before he recovered.

"And what is it?" He asked. There was a slight warning in his tone.

"Oh, well, for one thing, it doesn't really make me brutal. Well, I mean, it does. But for a different reason." Harry gave another dramatic pause.

"And what's the reason?" He asked, standing up straight and crossing his arms.

"Because I was cursed to want him." He said, grinning.

"Want him?" His tone was clipped now, as if he were angry that Harry was telling him.

"Sexually. In proximity. Whatever. It makes me want him in all sorts of ways."

There was a ridiculously long silence while the Dark Lord's eyebrows knitted together.

"And you're telling me this? Do you tell every Death Eater that walks by?"

"No, just the ones that bring me boring books." Harry smirked. He'd received exactly the reaction he'd expected from him.

"Knowing full well that giving out this knowledge could bring any Death Eater to try to break the curse, so that our Lord will finally kill you and be done with it?" He pressed, his voice now tense with the anger he was trying to hide.

"I've got a feeling you can keep a secret." Harry tried to say this with just the right amount of inflection, to make the man wonder if he knew who he really was.

"You're playing with fire," He said darkly, before he turned and stormed off down the hall.

"Yeah, I tend to do that," Harry told no one.


	11. Something satisfying

_(A/N ok so the scene breaks on ffnet are really doing my head in, half the time the lines disappear. There's also the problem of half my centred text being magically un-centred. I'm sure it's just to piss me off. Any way. Scene breaks will now be marked with OoOoO until ffnet gets their shit together. This song is break my fall, by Breaking Benjamin.)_

You fought me once but not again  
You let me feel your heavy hand  
I will clean your fuckin' mess  
And leave no trace of evidence

I am losing you again  
Let me out and let me in  
'Cause you're not alone here  
Not at all  
Let me belong here  
Break my fall

OoOoO

When Harry dreamt that night it wasn't sexual, as it usually was. Instead, he was the Dark Lord.

This had happened before, of course, but not recently.

The man was sitting on a chaise lounge, reading and scratching his chin, which held a small amount of stubble. This told Harry that the man was neither appearing as Voldemort or Elius. But as Tom Riddle. Which was fascinating to the Boy Who Lived.

Harry couldn't focus on the words on the page, since the Dark Lord himself was not. Instead, inexplicably, he was thinking of the night he had killed Harry's parents. Then his thoughts jumped oddly to Draco Malfoy, then to Harry himself. The Boy Who Lived could feel a mixture of disgust and unbridled excitement from the Dark Lord. He gave a long sigh, pulled his sleeve up and pressed his wand to the Dark Mark there. He stood and Harry got the feeling he had reverted to his Voldemort form.

Seconds later, Lucius entered the room, bowing low.

"My Lord?" He asked.

"Send a letter to your son, I have a job for him." The connection faded and Harry went back to his usual dreams.

The next morning he was hanging upside down off the end of his bed with a scrunched up bit of parchment in his hand. He was trying to get the ball into a crudely made circle he had drawn with his finger and some ink on the floor boards.

He could feel his face going red and his glasses slowly falling off, but he was determined to get it in the circle. He threw it, and it bounced off the wall, rolled out of the ink and joined several other balled up pieces of paper.

"They look like they hurt," A voice said, and he turned to face it. As soon as he did, an apple hit him between the eyes.

"Bloody hell!" He yelped, rolling off the bed and scooping his glasses off the floor.

"Being hit in the face hurts a bit more than this," He said, holding his wrists up.

The Dark Lord had found a correlation between Harry's lust and his duelling ability. Each raid so far, he would wind him up more and more, until he was trying to break his thumbs to get out of his bindings.

The result was some nasty wounds on his wrists, and what he thought was a hairline fracture at the base of his left thumb.

No one offered to heal it, and Harry didn't have a long time with a wand to fix it himself.

"It's from the garden," Elius said, ignoring the Chosen One's indignation.

"No one goes out there. The fruit's good, though." He continued.

"Good enough to throw at my face?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Obviously." He drawled, taking his usual place, leaning against the outside wall.

"So what do you want." Harry said, slightly annoyed.

"Just wondered how many other wandering Death Eaters you've told about the curse." He tried to say this easily, as if he didn't really care. But Harry knew better.

"All of them," Harry told the man easily, leaning against the wall as well.

"Pardon?" He said, though it came through his gritted teeth.

"I'm not serious," Harry sighed.

"Just you."

Elius hmmed.

"The Dark Lord wants to see you, I think." He said after a moment.

"Okay," The Boy Who Lived replied, hiding his smirk by wiping his mouth with his arm. Elius left him alone then, presumably to become Voldemort and then come and get him again.

Harry still didn't know what his goal was.

He got his black customary Death Eater robes and boots, and went into the bathroom to get changed. He didn't know what it was he was being called in for, but he wasn't going to be dragged out in his pyjamas.

He loved the boots.

They were honestly the most comfortable footwear he'd ever warn. They were knee high and what he assumed to be dragon hide. They were just the right weight and never overheated or gave him blisters.

He left the bathroom and sat down on the bed, sitting on his hands and biting his tongue, getting ready to fight the urge to pounce on the Dark Lord as soon as he showed up.

He got to thinking about the dream he'd had, and wondered if it was possible to make it happen. In the past he'd fought it.

But what if he could slip into Voldemort's mind whenever he wanted?

As if the Dark Lord could sense his thoughts, he showed up at the door with a few Death Eaters.

"Morning," Harry muttered, his teeth clenched.

None of them said anything, and Voldemort brought the wards down, then he was hit with multiple stunners before he could blink.

He was dragged through the halls as usual, and strung up in his regular place in the foyer. He was surprised to see Draco Malfoy and his father standing, unmasked, in the centre of the room, but he couldn't say so, his muzzle prevented any talking.

Draco was watching him with comically wide eyes, looking between Lucius and Harry as if someone was going to answer his unspoken question. Harry gave a one shouldered shrug, raising his eyebrows at the other teen.

The Dark Lord was quiet for quite a few seconds, like he wanted someone else to explain what his plan was. The Boy Who Lived shoved his head forward sharply, to get the man's attention, then raised his eyebrows higher once he was looking.

"Don't worry, Draco, he's here of his own free will, aren't you Harry?"

_Well, no not really, when you think about it, _He thought to himself, but he nodded anyway. Malfoy seemed slightly calmed by this, his eyes weren't as wide.

"I had planned, at the beginning of the year, to use the young Malfoy to kill Dumbledore and get the Death Eaters into the school," Voldemort continued, and Draco's eyes bulged again. This was obviously news to him.

"As it happens, I have a better idea. Potter will do it." There was a long pause, and Harry rattled his restraints, begging for his muzzle to be removed so he could _say _something.

"What's that Harry? I can't quite hear you." The Dark Lord gave a sharp laugh. Harry glared.

"You'd do best to hold your tongue," Voldemort warned, before he waved his wand and the muzzle vanished. Harry could have whooped with joy.

"Don't worry, Voldemort. I won't say anything… Strange." He laughed, then added in Parseltongue; _'Though I would like to,' _

The Dark Lord grimaced.

"How am I going to kill Dumbledore and get your lot into the castle?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Polyjuice potion." He replied simply, and the Boy Who Lived snorted.

"Because that went so well for you in fourth year."

"It worked very well, in your fourth year. I'm standing here as proof of that." The Dark Lord snapped, and Harry laughed loudly.

"And they'll fall for it again, you think?"

"They aren't paying attention to Malfoy. They're looking for you. No one is even going to bat an eye if Malfoy junior develops a drinking problem." He said, crossing his arms. Draco was looking between them as if they had all grown extra heads. Lucius was quiet, watching with hooded eyes and a blank expression.

"And if I suddenly stop going on raids?" Harry asked.

"You will still accompany the Death Eaters. In fact, you will tonight. Any other time, Draco will take your place and you will leave the school."

Harry was unconsciously pulling at his restraints, as he usually did.

"And how do I just leave the school without anyone noticing?"

"By walking out the front door, Potter." Voldemort gave him a withering look.

"Then Draco will walk back in."

"Okay, fine. Good. But why me? Why change the plan?"

'_Because you have no idea how much more satisfying it will be to have the Chosen One end Dumbledore and destroy the school,' _He hissed, and Harry sucked in a breath.

'_Let me down and I'll show you something satisfying,' _He replied without thinking. He was grateful that he had said it in Parseltongue, at least. He was surprised when the Dark Lord just laughed at him.

'_I'll never let you down, Potter.' _He replied, then stalked over to the younger Malfoy and yanked out some of his hair.

"You will be informed when you need to leave the school," He told Draco, and he and his father took that as a hint to leave, which they quickly did.

Before Harry could say anything, the muzzle was back.

"You will wait here until tonight, as punishment for your revolting comment."

Harry wanted to yell that it was all his fault anyway, and it had very little to do with Harry himself, but he couldn't say anything.

Sighing and preparing himself for a long, painful day, he decided he had plenty of time to try and work out the mental connection that he had with Voldemort.

Around four hours passed before he got the sense of something, just outside his consciousness, which he could almost reach out and touch. It was elusive, shying away from him at every possible last second, reminding Harry of a starved stray animal. Not afraid enough to run, just hungry enough to stay.

This odd sense made him overly gentle with it, feeling like he might startle it into non-existence if he was too forceful. He reached out tentatively with his mind, trying not to get frustrated when it withdrew.

If it hadn't drawn away from him completely yet, he figured that it just might come close enough on its own accord. With this thought in mind, he stopped reaching for it. He still felt it there, concentrating hard so that he wouldn't 'lose sight' of it.

He spent hours like this, watching this odd little thing in his head skittering about as if it couldn't decide what to do next.

Harry knew without a doubt that this was the connection he shared with the Dark Lord. He could sense it.

After almost another hour, it started edging closer. So slowly that he hadn't noticed at first.

He pretended that he wasn't paying it any attention, tried to think about something else without actually thinking about anything else. It continued creeping up, still reminding him of a very hungry stray.

In the end, his hours of hard work were interrupted by Voldemort himself. The man showed no outward signs of knowing what was going on in Harry's head, which made him wonder if the man even truly paid any mind to the connection that they shared.

The Dark Lord had used it to lure him to the department of mysteries, that much Harry knew. He wondered whether he should bring it up. He quickly decided against it, though, as the man might start trying to remove it.

At the moment, it was the only upper hand he had, it was best the man remained ignorant.

"How was your day?" The Dark Lord asked, smirking.

Harry raised his eyebrows. He was smiling, and Voldemort could tell that much from his eyes. A momentary look of confusion crossed his features before he dismissed it and pressed his wand to his forearm. He then took his usual seat on the raised dais and waited. Death Eaters started popping into the room shortly after, and Harry found himself looking for Elius instinctively, though he knew he wasn't going to find him.

The Dark Lord's followers were quickly debriefed on the raid for the night, and Harry zoned out, looking for the little stray connection in his head once more. He didn't have long to look though, and it seemed just as elusive as it had been to begin with.

The meeting was quickly brought to an end, and the Dark Lord sent everyone out of the room.

An odd mix of terror and pure lust overcame him. He knew what happened now. Voldemort would stir him up to the point where he was wild, then unleash him like some sort of attack dog.

He said nothing as he came closer, and Harry jammed his eyes shut.

Only seconds passed before ice cold fingers trailed down his neck.

'_You'll do well tonight, won't you?' _He hissed, and Harry nodded frantically.

'_Of course you will.' _

Harry wanted to ask what the point of this was. He punished the Boy Who Lived for saying something barely sexual and yet, here he was, encouraging it.

_What is it that you want? _Harry forced this question in the direction of the shy little thing in his head, hoping that it might carry right on through to the Dark Lord's mind.

_Do you want me to control myself or do you really want to make me lose it? _ He pressed the thoughts harder, and was pleased to find that Voldemort paused for the barest of seconds, before removing his hand. Harry didn't open his eyes, but he heard the man leave the room.

He wasn't sure if he had actually heard what Harry had forced onto the connection, but it felt like he had.

A few moments later, he was unchained and apparated out of the manor. It was in the moment of spinning and gut wrenching pulling that he realized he had no idea where he was going. He had paid no attention during the gathering.

He pulled himself to his feet when the spinning stopped, and a wand was slipped into his inner robe pocket, another Death Eater was behind him, undoing his cuffs. He heard a low whistle behind him, and he assumed whoever was undoing his binds had seen then now raw and bleeding wounds on his wrists.

He turned to face the man and realized it was Elius.

He reached out and grabbed the teen's wrists before he could protest, and healed the wounds wordlessly. Harry barely registered that he was shaking.

"I swear I know you," He whispered, hinting once again that he was aware that he was talking to the Dark Lord himself. This seemed to bring Voldemort out of whatever trance he had been in, and he let Harry's wrists go.

The Boy Who Lived swallowed deeply, looking around himself to stop him from doing something he would regret.

He realized he knew this place.

"The Ministry?" He asked, turning back to the man with his eyebrows raised.

"Dream big, right?" Elius laughed, and Harry's eyes widened. He'd said those exact words to Voldemort before he sent Harry back to Hogwarts the first time.

It almost felt as though he _wanted _Harry to figure it out. He gave the Boy Who Lived a cheeky wave and drew his wand.

"Ready?" He asked, and Harry nodded, drawing his own temporary wand. His hands were still shaking.


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Drama