I click of an opening door brought Harry out of his sleeping state. He looked up as a tall red headed figure slowly closing the door and pausing for a moment to rest their forehead upon the cool wood. He turned and Harry watch as a hunched Ron slowly walked forward, head bowed a little and eyes trained on the stone floor. Eyes wide Harry waited until at last a shaky voice spoke out across the still air.

"Herminie's dead, Harry." His blue eyes flicked up to look at his friend sitting behind the bars of his prison. "We think it was Dolohov." He watched Harry sit unmoving, eye wide and conflicted, unsure of what to do. Inside his emotions were fighting it out between fury and extreme grief, he was even a little unwilling to believe him. Tears streamed down Ron's cheeks and silently dropped onto the ground. He jerked his head up. "Harry, what do we do?"

"Why are you asking me?" he said uncertain. "Why the fuck would I know!" he screamed jumping to his feet and grabbing the metal bars holding him back from the real word, deciding to merge the two emotions instead of letting them duel. His head dropped "Why the fuck would I know?" he repeated, voice a whisper this time.

Ron, taken aback stuttered, not confident in his own words but desperate for them to mean something. "But Harry, you're the boy who lived, you have to know."

Harry glared at the stone slabs under his feet as if he could burn them away and earn his freedom, escape from this world. "Yeah, of course. I'm the boy who lived. Tell me Ron; what have I done to deserve that title?" he paused, chin wobbling and on the brink of tears. "Nothing. Not one bloody thing and yet your telling me I need to sort everything out. I'm just a normal guy, what the hell can I do?"

"Harry, you've beaten him before, you can do it again, I mean, you have to." Ron took a few steps forward but was still wary of his friend. He stopped, on the verge of saying something. For a few moments he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, tentative and afraid of what he wanted to say. "Harry, I loved her." Ron's voice rang out in the silence pure emotion filling each word and for a minute the boys just stood in silence. Harry raising his gaze to meet the tear stained face of his red haired friend. "I loved her and I never got a chance to tell her." Ron's voice was breaking, cracking under the weight of immense sorrow.

"I know you did, mate." He sighed. "I did too. And of course I want to kill the bastard, of course I want to rip Voldemort's heart out but I didn't choose to be the chosen one, he did that for me and I don't think I can do it anymore." He slid down to crouch at the base of his jail and the shadow of Ron approached him, squatting down to his level and hesitantly placed one shaking hand on Harry's shoulder.

"It's not up to you. If you don't kill the sorry git then I'll have to and we both know that'll never happen. Harry, without her there is nothing for me, at the moment I just-" he paused the tears once more streaming. "I just want to die."

Harry looked up for the first time daring to look into Ron's eyes. They were flooded with water and deep inside he could see something was broken, something that could never be fixed. Slowly he nodded. Together the boys stood a feeling of hollowness filled them both. Quickly Ron unlocked the metal gate and they grabbed at each other holding their bodies together craving the companionship a death ripped away. As they pulled out of the long embrace, face sodden they nodded in understanding. Out of his sleeve Ron produced Harry's wand.

"Your invisibility cloak is outside, I wish I could go with you but someone would notice." Harry nodded in understanding. "Look, be careful out there. If you don't come back I think I might start to welcome you-know- who's presence." Harry threw him an irritated glace but didn't say anything.

They slipped outside and quickly Harry pulled on the cloak and followed Ron off down the hall past many witches and wizards weary from battle and in a state of sorrow beyond tears. They barely even noticed that Ron had two sets of footsteps but almost everyone greeted him and occasionally some even tried a smile. If his soul had not already been shattered beyond repair Harry might have been heart broken by the sight but as it was, it was a little, too late.

Outside the sky was dark. Hogwarts' once beautiful grounds were stained with blood and scarred by the havoc a war creates. Even if they won this place would never be the same again, never bring that feeling of safety. Once Harry's home we walked through the battlefield glad that it would also be his resting place.

As he travelled down to the burnt remains of Hagrid's hut he watched those still alive battle around him. It had turned into somewhat of a waiting game. Short bursts of intense battle broken apart by time for rest and healing, awaiting the next attack. It was a sorry site, broken bodies from that days fighting scattered around. Harry was surprised there were still any left at all to be killed. But the death count just kept climbing and once again it had hit home.

By the time he was inside the forbidden forest the evening has darkened and night was upon him. The trees cast tall broken shadows and the occasional break in foliage sent beams of moonlight spiraling down and pooling onto the earthen floor.

There was a well-worn path cutting through the trees, jagged and menacing. The death eaters had fashioned it when the order of the phoenix, or what was left of it, had imprisoned Harry so he couldn't answer Voldemort's call to battle when the fight first hit Hogwarts.

The camp wasn't far into the woodland. It loomed up ahead of him. There were two black wooden gates reaching to the top of the trees formed out of those removed to make the road.

For a moment the boy hesitated then making up his mind walked forward. The doors began to creak open as if welcoming him into the home of some evil giant. Harry walked through, not surprised they were operated by magic.

There was no bustling activity inside as Harry had expected there to be. Instead he was alone. He didn't look around or take in anything, just let his body move instinctively, he felt as if his scar was leading his way.

The pathway continued through the camp, twisting around trees and winding about a small glistening black lake. Just beyond it Harry saw what he was searching for. He stopped taking a great breath and sighing slowly. This was it, one more step and no more turning back. With a deciding gulp he moved forward until he was pushing into the large marquee, trying to ignore the smoky dark mark hovering several hundred meters above him marking the headquarters and current residence of the dark lord.

Unsurprisingly the insides were much larger than what should be able to fit according to the outside appearance. Above him a door squealed. He looked up.

There were three floors but each consisted of doors along a balcony hallway looking down on the entrance hall that the young wizard stood in.

"Ah," came a familiar voice sending a great shiver down Harry's spine. "I see at last you decide to join us Mr. Potter." The slim pale figure of Voldemort stood tall outside one room. Elegantly he hovered up onto the stone bannister separating him from the great drop down to the floor below and glided down to stand before Harry who was gingerly removing the cloak.

Above more death eaters were appearing out of different rooms and slowly making their way down the stairs.

"You certainly took you time now didn't you." He said drawing out the long knobbly elder wand and holding it loosely in his amazingly long bony fingers. "Such a shame." With one flick of his wand Harry was down on his knees, pain searing through his body but he refused to make a noise, to plea. Voldemort laughed quietly.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment, Harry. How much pain I have gone through, but at last you come." He stopped, dropping the silent crucio off the boy. "And yet, you do not speak. Come now Harry surely two old friends like us should speak to each other."

"I have nothing more to say to you." Harry said, his voice was quiet, a whisper and he looked away towards the floor.

Voldemort's face scrunched up in anger. He lifted his arm behind his head and whipped it forward but suddenly halted a smile slowly growing. "No, I can't rush myself, this is something I plan to enjoy very much." He turned scanning the crowd that had formed."Malfoy, Where is the Malfoy boy?"

"I'm here my Lord." Harry looked up and there he was, tall and elegant, his slim figure well complimented under the slim black suit.

"Ah, Draco, good. From today onwards this boy," he gestured to Harry, "is yours."

Draco who had been watching Harry turned confused to his master. "My Lord?" he questioned.

"Do as him what you will." There was a glint in Voldemort's eye that unnerved Harry but Malfoy seemed to understand. "I will want him back though." Draco inclined his head and came forward magicing bonds on Harry's wrists and yanked him up with them.

"You're mine, Potter, all mine."