Harry paced back and forth in the bars of the cage he had woken up in. He growled like a wild animal, baring his teeth at the blurry man standing smugly in front of him. "At least give me some clothes to wear! Or do you get off on watching me walk around in my skivvies? Gods, I'll bet you do." He wrapped his arms around himself protectively and stood in place, scowling.

Voldemort shook his head, chuckling openly. "You're not intimidating in the least standing in a cage wearing nothing but a little t-shirt and knickers, I think I prefer you better this way. You look really pathetic and weak."

"So, who are you anyway? Some sort of junior Death Eater-in-training? Let me guess, your big goal in life is to deliver me to your repulsive master so he'll allow you to bow down and kiss his arse all day. Am I close? Striving for that mind-sucking tattoo to show off to your mum?" Harry spat on the floor in front of him, clearly revolted. "You're all the same…"

"Repulsive...what do you know about Lord Voldemort, pretty boy?" he shouted back, pushing his face between the bars.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Oh, aren't we brave, saying your master's name out in the open like that. They must have forgotten to teach you how to fear him because Merlin knows how bloody frightening he is," he taunted, rolling his eyes. "At least physically."

"That's it!" Voldemort pulled his wand out from his trouser pocket and unlocked the cage door. Harry stepped back a few paces, guessing he'd said a bit too much. "I'm coming in there to kick your arse."

With a bemused chortle, Harry clenched his fists watching the taller boy enter the cage and thrust his wand back into his pocket. He looked up - way up at the boy who was now aggressively looming over him. He gulped. The boy was really tall, almost as tall as Lord Voldemort himself.

Voldemort smirked at the sudden shift in power between them. He gave the boy a little shove. "Yeah, not so brave now, are you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm not afraid of-"

"Stop trying to start a fight, Potter!" Voldemort threw him up against the back of the cage and held him by his shoulders. "Listen to me, I've just had the worst week of my life and the last thing I need to hear right now is snotty little backtalk coming out of your mouth." He leaned in, pressing his forehead hard against Harry's when a light flicker of magic set off a painful shock between them, causing them both to flinch. Their hands flew up to their foreheads to rub the sting away.

"What was that?" Harry asked through his teeth, his scar burned painfully under his hand. He looked up at the tall boy again, more closely this time as a trace recognition popped into his mind. "Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"I did," said Voldemort. As much as he'd love to keep the facade of being someone else up, he knew Harry wasn't unintelligent. He'd figure it out sooner or later. "That's where we met."

"Did? You can't be much older than me, well without my glasses it's hard to tell exactly." Harry squinted as he stared up at the pretty face very closely. So familiar. Dark eyes, jet-black hair.

Harry was right in front now, looking very adorably cute that close up. Voldemort swallowed hard and leaned in a bit so his nose grazed the messy mop of black hair. Inhaling his scent, he sighed. "Oh, uh sorry," he said, cringing and taking a step backwards. "I meant we've met before, we've just never been properly introduced without some sort of distraction happening to put a stop to the pleasantries." Voldemort cleared his throat and looked back at the boy he'd just decided he didn't want to kill right away anymore, feeling his stomach clenching with hunger. "Have you eaten? I could get take-away."

Harry shrugged. "Starving, actually."

"I'll get us something." He stepped out of the cage and slammed the door shut. He turned around and looked back, giving the caged boy a grin. "Don't go anywhere."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, yaay, Death Eater humour, always fun to hear."


Sitting on the floor outside of the cage, Lord Voldemort propped his elbow on a knee and leaned his head on his hand while he watched Harry pick at his dinner. "Not hungry?" he asked him, finding himself doing the same.

"You're kind of staring at me," murmured Harry. He sat with his knees tucked under his t-shirt, arms wrapped around them, staring back at the black-haired boy. "It's a little unnerving."

"Oh." Unnerving people used to be his speciality but for some reason it seemed wrong doing it to Potter at that moment. "Sorry, I'll turn around."

Harry shrugged. "But thanks, it looks good, smells good."

Voldemort gestured to his plate. "Then eat it, it's getting cold."

Harry looked down at his plate. He was hungry enough to eat anything and, of course, the food sitting next to him smelled so good he nearly drooled down his chin. Unfortunately, his silly Gryffindor pride refused to let him eat like a dog in a cage for the boy on the other side to gawk at. "No, thanks. I'm good."

Voldemort sighed. "What's the matter. It's not poisoned or anything. If I wanted to kill you I would have done so hours ago."

"I know that," said Harry.

"Then eat it. It's poulet rôti, a simple dish for common folk. I thought of you when I got it." He snickered to himself but Harry just stared back at him.

"Looks like chicken to me." Harry crinkled his nose up, pretending he had no desire to eat it.

"Oh, I get it." With a pang of empathy, Voldemort understood finally. He picked his plate up and unlocked the cage door. "Come eat with me in the dining room," he ordered, cocking his head to the doorway.

Harry picked up his plate and glass of wine up as he stood. "You sure? What if your master finds out?"

"Shut up and get moving or I'll tell him to come by and do it for you," he said, giving the boy a nudge.


"So, when exactly did you decide you wanted to throw your life away and become a nameless servant to a snake-headed Half-Blood?" said Harry, slurring between large gulps of his sixth glass of black wine.

Voldemort pursed his lips. "When will you realise your Headmaster is a sick old fool who's ideas about a world breeding with Muggles will get us all killed off?"

"How will that get us killed? There are hardly any Pure-Bloods left to procreate with. Seems to me that's the way to end up wizardless, don't you think?"

"By diluting our blood with Muggle people? No, you've got it backwards."

Harry stopped bantering as he looked around the very lavishly furnished room, only just noticing it. His eyes scanned over plaques and crests covering the walls and china, all adorning the name 'Malfoy' on them. His breath began to accelerate as he realised he was in the Malfoy holiday home. A moving photo of the immediate Malfoy family hung to his right, all three members glared back at him for sitting in Lucius's head chair.

"What's the matter, Potter?" said Voldemort, hiding his giddiness under his napkin as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth.

Harry looked back at him worriedly, giving Voldemort a severe throbbing pain in his temples. "This place, this is Malfoy's home."

"Yes, it is. He said I could use it for a few weeks. I've taken a holiday."

"Holiday? But Malfoy…he's a high ranking Death Eater. He wouldn't lend his home to..." He paused in confusion and licked his swollen, cherry stained lips nervously, leaving them parted with panting breaths. "Does Lucius Malfoy know I'm here?"

Voldemort nodded. "Yes, of course he knows you're here, Harry. Why do you think he lent me the place?"

Harry swallowed hard and licked his lips again, entrancing Voldemort as his tongue played along his teeth. His voice got quiet. "And...and Voldemort? Does he know?"

Again, Voldemort nodded as he snapped out of his blatant stare, delighted in watching the remainder of Harry's blood drain from his face. "Yes, he knows all too well that you're here. He brought you here, himself," he boasted, unable to hide his smirk.

"He did?" Harry was breathless, panting as the realisation set in that he truly was in very big trouble. He fell forward and gripped the edge of the table for support as his throat closed up from the tight ball forming within it. Too many glasses of wine, too many bad things happening in a short period of time. The world was starting to spin.

Voldemort sat forward with a cringe, feeling slightly penitent. They were having such a lovely time he'd forgotten about the situation they were really faced with, hadn't considered how the boy might react once he fully understood the circumstances.

"Hey, it's okay, Harry. Calm down, they aren't going to hurt you." He reached out to pat his shoulder but Harry flinched back.

"What do you mean - are you mad? Of course they're going to hurt me!" he cried, staring at the boy in shock. He dropped his head in his hands, mumbling incoherently. The names Dumbledore and Dursleys could be made out but everything else was burbled under his breath. He sat back up, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed into slits. "How did you manage to find me anyway?"

Voldemort shrugged. "I have my ways."

"Oh, I'll bet you're so proud of yourself. So you know, I never wanted to be a part of this, I didn't choose this life. I didn't choose to be their supposed saviour." he said, looking quite disgusted. "Can't you just kill me now? I don't know anything! 'Be a good lad and win the war for us but we'll keep you in the dark about all of the details, that's our boy!' They won't tell me a goddamn thing because the bastard can read my mind!" He was trembling with fear and anger, unable to think clearly any longer.

Voldemort was entranced. Harry looked absolutely beautiful in a fretful sort of way. He stood up and seized the boy by the arms, catching him by surprise. "Calm down, you're hysterical, Potter. I won't allow them to hurt you."

Harry shook his head with confusion, the strength of the wine overtook the remnants of his clarity. "What? Who are you?" His knees bucked under the strain. First Dudley's gang, then being kidnapped and now this. His vision went spotty before fully darkening. All coherent thought faded away.

Voldemort scooped Harry up into his arms the moment the befuddled boy passed out. The Dark Lord's charred black heart began to beat for something other than power for the first time in his life. He studied him as he cradled him in his embrace. It was meant to be, clearly they were made for each other. Nothing had ever touched him this way before. No one person had ever been as close in practically every way. The idea of killing him now was as far from his mind as anything had ever been, the old thought quickly replaced by the determination to create something between them that was the direct opposite of hate.


"Not much of a wine drinker, are you?" Voldemort made a face as Harry clutched the toilet again, seeing his knuckles turn white from gripping it so hard as he plunged his head inside the bowl.

Harry whimpered as the newest wave of nausea lurched forth. He shook his head as he sat back on his heels to recover. His fringe was plastered to his face from sweat, his eyes watered from retching. "Never drank anything before," he panted, catching his breath. "Unless Butterbeer counts."

Voldemort shook his head. "I'll have to keep that in mind. It hadn't occurred to me you were only 15."

"I'll be 16 soon, in...I don't know, what day is it?" He tipped his head back as Voldemort rubbed his face with a damp cloth to wipe the remaining vomit and sweat away.

"It's July 27th, four days," he replied.

"Yeah, if I live that long," Harry said, shrugging.

Voldemort lightly smacked his leg with the cloth. "I told you to shut up about that. Now let's find you something else to wear. You got sick all over your t-shirt."

They stumbled back into the bedroom on shaky legs, Voldemort holding him under his arms for support. He sat the boy down on the edge of the bed and walked to the wardrobe. Every single article of clothing hanging inside was made of the finest materials, perfectly tailored for Lucius. It would probably swallow Harry up but he had little choice. Grabbing a pair of silky pyjamas, he tossed the shirt to Harry and ordered him to take his clothes off.

Harry pulled his t-shirt off and dropped it on the ground. He nearly got one of his arms into a silk sleeve but fell to his side as sleepiness took over. Voldemort huffed and stomped over to the bed and buttoned it up. "Good enough," he muttered, and hauled Harry up to the head of the bed. He grabbed the bottoms up and stripped down. He pulled them up over his hips and smiled as they hugged softly against his skin. He walked to the door and looked back at the pretty boy, wishing he could stay in the room with him.

He shrugged. Why couldn't he? He locked the door and walked back over to Harry's side. He pointed his wand at a book on the bedside table, transfiguring it into a pair of handcuffs. "Sorry, Potter," he whispered as he shackled the sleeping boy's left wrist to the bedstead. "Can't trust you to not go for my wand. You'll understand, I'm sure." He climbed over him and laid down on the opposite side of the enormous bed, tucking his wand under his pillow to fall asleep watching the boy beside him so it was the last thing on his mind as he fell asleep.


Lucius Malfoy apparated into the foyer of his chateau. His hair was badly tussled, his clothing torn in several places. He spit the remnants of Veritaserum out, thankful he got away before the others had a chance to get the location of his holiday home. He reached into his cloak pocket and retrieved the shrunken bottle of champagne and bouquet of white roses his master was always so fond of. Returning them to their original state, he tiptoed through the house to seek him out. Passing the obviously empty cage, he frowned. Maybe that Potter kid had escaped. Maybe his master was hurt, maybe dead! He panicked and dashed off looking for any signs of a disturbance.

Seeing his private bedroom door locked he yanked his wand free from his cane and quietly unlocked the door. Ever so carefully he eased it open, slowly turning the knob as he pressured the balance with his shoulder.

Harry was sitting up in bed. His free hand slipped into the front of Voldemort's pyjama bottoms. Lucius stood in horror watching the boy lean in closer, groping deeper under the waistband as his master's face lit up with an adorable smile. "Mmm, yeah. Just like that, baby," mumbled Voldemort. Harry gasped at the Dark Lord, his hand frozen in mid exploration beneath the shiny material.

Lucius threw the door open in a frenzied blaze of fire. "How dare you!" he exclaimed, catching Harry off-guard and startling Voldemort awake. The Dark lord sat up quickly, pinning Harry's hand in his lap.

"What's going on?" Voldemort snapped his knees together. Harry jerked back violently, trying to get his hand free - but it was stuck. Defeated and terrified, he sighed and fell forward into his pillow; one hand handcuffed to the bedstead, the other still sandwiched between the other boy's thighs.

Voldemort looked over to Lucius and held his finger to his lips. Lucius nodded in understanding. "Harry," he whispered, carefully removing the boy's hand and laying it down next to him. "Mind telling me what you were doing?" Harry sighed and muttered something unintelligible. Voldemort and Lucius only shook their heads in confusion. "What was that?" he asked again.

Harry looked up at him in humiliation. "I said I was looking for the key! There, happy?" He dropped his face back onto the pillow.

"Are those my pyjamas?" Lucius exclaimed. He dropped the flowers on the ground. "You're both wearing my pyjamas with your hands in each other's knickers in my bed!"

"He's gonna kill me," Harry whimpered, burying his head further into the pillows.

"Lucius, give us a moment," Voldemort said. He looked at the bottle of champagne hanging limply in his hand and smiled. "Oh, how sweet. For me?"

"Not anymore," he grumbled and slammed the door as he left the room.

Entwining his fingers in the mass of jet-black hair, Voldemort lifted Harry's head away from the pillow. "Why were you looking for the key?"

"Because I have to use the loo really bad."

Voldemort sighed and pulled his wand out from beneath his pillow. "Why didn't you just wake me up?" He waved his wand over the handcuffs and they fell away, turning back into a book as it hit the floor.

Harry dashed off into the toilet and slammed the door.


Half an hour later Voldemort stood impatiently outside of the door, knocking on it for the fifth time. "Are you coming out?"

"No," said Harry.

"Why not? I saved your life, remember? Why don't you trust me?"

"Because you kidnapped me, locked me in a cage and made me sleep next to you while handcuffed to Lucius Malfoy's bed, that's why!" screamed Harry back at him.

"That's my job." Voldemort shook his head. "And I'm not the one who put my hand down your pyjamas!"

"I was desperate!"

Voldemort's jaw dropped open. "Get out here this instant or I'll break the door down!"

Harry threw the door open and stood there in his over-sized silky blue pyjama top looking very angry. "How come you can order Malfoy around like he's below you if you aren't even a Death Eater yet?" He grabbed Voldemort's left arm and flipped it over looking for the Dark Mark.

Voldemort pulled his hand away. "None of your business. Now get back in bed. I need to talk with him- alone!"

Harry relaxed a bit, seeing the bouquet lying on the ground. "He brought you flowers. I think I get it now."

"Oh, shut up," Voldemort ordered. He gripped Harry's arm and dragged him back to the bed. Transfiguring the book back into handcuffs, he wrenched both of Harry's hands above his head to lock him back up. "Now keep quiet and just go back to sleep or something!"

Dropping his head back into his pillow after watching him leave, Harry chewed on his bottom lip worriedly. Malfoy was here, it would only be a matter of time before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made his appearance.


Lucius paced around his parlour looking quite depressed. The more he thought about his master the more he wanted to cry. Never before had the man given him much reason to divert all his attention to him. What was he thinking? He was a married man for Merlin's sake! What if Narcissa decided to pop in and entertain a few guests? It wouldn't be unheard of.

And his son, Draco, he was absent. Off skiing on the Alps with his friends. He'd been known to show up unannounced with ten or fifteen people to have a good time at his expense. He felt like he was doing something very naughty, hiding his gorgeous master in his holiday home and keeping a kidnapped boy prisoner along with them. Perhaps he was.

"Lucius?"

Whirling around, he stood in front of his master who was still clad only in a pair of his silky blue pyjama bottoms. With a relaxed sigh, the worries drifted away as he glided over to him and knelt to kiss his hand. "Did you kill him?" he said, batting his eyelashes. "Please say yes."

Voldemort snorted and shook his head. "No, stop that talk, Lucius. He's- damn he's giving me another headache. I need to figure out a way to put a stop to that." He rubbed his temples gingerly but Lucius slapped them away and began massaging his temples for him.

"Again, I'm pretty sure they'd stop if you killed him- Okay, I'll stop asking." He looked away as Voldemort glared at him. He massaged Voldemort's forehead with gentle fingers until he moaned out contentedly as the pain faded away. "Better, my Lord?"

"Yes, thank you. Now, sit and listen, I have something interesting to tell you." Lucius dropped down in a chair as Voldemort sat across from him. "It's so amazing. That boy has no idea who I am. None whatsoever. I'm not going to ruin the fun yet, so don't spoil this for me."

"What is he, an idiot?" said Lucius, tilting his head in confusion. "How can he not know? Who in the hell does he think you are?"

"Er, yeah that. He sort of thinks I'm a Death Eater-in-training who's sleeping with you to let me use your chateau," he confessed, shrinking down in his seat.

Lucius smiled brightly. "Oh, I like that story. We should prove it to him. I mean, you know, to keep up the facade. Then we can give him to Draco. Yes, Draco would be very keen on that. He'd love having that little prat as a pet. He always said if he ever got his hands on him-"

"Lucius," Voldemort said, sighing. "I thought you were a married man. And who's watching the Death Eaters right now? They could be in my room touching my stuff. You should really be getting back, don't you think?"

With a sob, Lucius looked down at his clothing. "I had to escape, they hurt me."

"Oh, no!" Voldemort stood up as Lucius did, embracing his hysterical second in command with a comforting hug. "There, there. I'll make them pay for what they did to you." He petted the long silky white hair pressed against his upper body coaxing Lucius to let it all out. "Tell me what happened." Lucius clutched on very tightly, nuzzling his cheek up against that flawless pale flesh to milk every ounce of sympathy he could. He massaged up against his hairless chest. His tongue darted out accidentally, but before he could stop himself Voldemort felt it and shoved him away. "Hey, I was trying to be nice!" he cried, wiping tears and saliva off of his pectoral muscles.

"I'm sorry," he said, sniffling and hiccoughing in uncontrolled spurts. "I just can't help myself around you. I don't know why!"

Voldemort smiled sadly at him. "Why don't you come back in a few days after you've made certain everything is going well. I just can't trust those psychotic maniacs alone for too long. Plus, I want to hear news of Potter's disappearance. I want everything, who they think has him, what happened, etcetera. Okay?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius wiped his face with his sleeve and disapparated away.


Lord Voldemort waved his wand over Harry releasing him from the bed. He pointed to the bathroom. "Get in there, get cleaned up while I look for clothes. Harry walked to the toilet shakily. He turned to look back at the other boy with intrigue. "Where's Malfoy? Isn't he-"

"He left. I told him to leave us alone for a few more days," he said, gazing through the wardrobe against the wall. He held up several articles of clothing that would swallow Harry up and barely cover his calves. "Oh! Forgot I brought a truck." He ran to his cloak and pulled his trunk out.

Harry watched him carefully as he sifted through his clothes, his eye catching the gem-encrusted embroidered ceremonial robe of black and forest green velvet. "What's that? Looks familiar."

"I thought I told you to get cleaned up," Voldemort said, shoving the robe into the bottom of his trunk.

"What's your name?" asked Harry, standing his ground in the doorway. "You never told me."

Voldemort's eyes grew huge. "Erm...my name? It's- it's Tom," he said quickly, keeping his attention at his trunk.

"Oh, okay then," said Harry, stepping into the bathroom. He stopped and turned. "Tom what?"

"You don't need to know every goddamn thing about me, Potter." He pointed to the bathroom again.

Harry closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. He pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes wishing he had his glasses. Orange light filled the white room. Harry looked out the small window. The sun was setting just above the trees. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting the warmth comfort him.

His eyes snapped back open.

He looked up again.

He was standing in front of a window without bars on it.


Rifling through Lucius' only child's room, Voldemort found several things that would probably fit Harry a lot better. He walked casually back into the master bedroom listening to the shower running, watching the steam billow out from under the crack of the door.

He sat impatiently on the bed while fidgeting with his wand, waiting for his turn to use the loo. The headache was gone, he felt almost giddy inside. 'Harry must be in good spirits' he thought to himself. He remembered seeing an adjoining bathroom in Draco's room and walked back out, locking the bedroom door behind him.

Freshly showered, Voldemort walked back to the bedroom dressed perfectly and unlocked the door. He froze, still hearing Harry's shower running knowing he'd been gone nearly an hour. surely Harry wasn't as meticulous with hygiene as he was.

Voices rang out behind him, giving him a start. Someone else was in the chateau with them. He clutched his wand and hurried out into the parlour, shocked as he walked into Draco and his two friends Crabbe and Goyle. All three were looking quite inebriated and obnoxious. They were holding half full bottles of wine in their hands, chatting loudly and staggering as they attempted to wipe the floo soot from their ski outfits.

"Who are you?" Draco asked, looking the taller boy up and down over his pointy nose. He took a large swig of wine and wiped his face with his sleeve as he approached the handsome boy.

Voldemort swallowed hard. He looked back anxiously at the master bedroom down the hallway. "I'm umm…a friend of your fathers. He said I could stay here for a few weeks." His eyes remained locked onto open the bedroom door praying Harry didn't walk out.

Draco threw on a seductive smirk. "Are you one of my father's little whores? He doesn't normally allow them to stay here when he's away. They're typically women, if I recall correctly." He reached out, pressing his palm flat against The Dark Lord's pectoral muscle. "Mmm, nice and firm. I'll give him that, he does has exquisite taste."

Goyle gave him a wink. "Yeah, sure does, he's a pretty one." He and Crabbe moistened their mouths with drool as Draco curled his lip up in a lusty snarl. All three boys reached out at once, unable to control themselves.

"Did you just call me a-" Voldemort slapped their hands away. "Touch me again and I will hurt you. Got it?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I see Father still likes them sadistic, too. C'mon, boys, let's go to my room."

Lord Voldemort turned quickly, needing to get to the bottom of why Harry was still in the bathroom.

Watching him walk away, Draco nudged his friend. "We'll get him later when he isn't expecting it. What a honey."