"He's healing."

An unfamiliar feminine voice cutting through his once submerged being.

~.~Harry's Mind~.~

Eyes widening at the realization that he stood on top of it. The surface, slowly turning to glass beneath his feet, expanding out like an ocean. Water taking the form of rays of light, the visionary lake had taken on the many brilliant colors. All disappearing, interconnecting, and flowing out from the murky green depths. Lighting up like fireworks bursting in the dark, setting the dark sky above ablaze.

More voices raising up, hushed whispers, sounds that he could faintly hear. Draco's voice amongst them, colliding, deciphering each one out. Listening, he could faintly hear the following monotone, 'Snape?!' Even that of Voldemort's concerned one reaching his ears.

They all deafened.

Being drowned out by the sensation of his own magic overwhelming his senses. Spreading as a tingling, and oh-so-intangible throughout the space, from his core, making him unpleasantly naseuos. The magic inside the room clashing with his own, serving to calm him down, feeling that of an unknown source. But knew better to doubt such a powerful signature, it was all too familiar. And the fear... The fear that he shouldn't be accepting the comforts from said enemy.

Wait?

Were they even still, enemies?

He couldn't make out the muffled sounds like whispers coming from inside the room. Lying on the floor, cold, and feeling fingers stroking his forehead, along with his left cheek. The youth sought for warmth. The warmth he could only get from the dark lake he surrendered himself to. Knowing that he couldn't call the being his friend.

Somehow, he couldn't remember how he even came to be submerged? And now re-emerging, was like a rebirth. Everyone that he could have possibly imagined- or maybe, he could have possibly gone mental?- appeared in the swirling patterns. Disturbing all the same, stood a little ways away from him.

Walking closer, rippling the water's surface. Causing him to stir and seek them all out, for reasons unknown. Maybe, to regain life? Maybe, to feel alive again?

The questions remaining, as his fingernails scrapped against an unknown smooth surface. 'Where am I?' Or the occasional, 'How? How is any of this possible?' All running like a million miles per second in his head. Curling his arms in front of him, as to push himself up, Harry felt that he had no strength inside his body. The same tingling sensation rushing through his body, was similar to his own, but did not belong to him. The ravenette pushed back against the attempts of comfort trying to lull him back in to a false state of consciousness.

He would not wake just to find that all the time he spent comatose was the doing of his Uncle Vernon, or the group of misfits, knocking him unconscious. Furrowing his brow, the faces of all, begin to blur. His recollection, becoming something to question. Shuddering out, he felt something warm placed over him, having no idea that he was actually naked in front of all eyes in the room. Before blacking out again, Harry could feel himself floating on air. But, he never got to ask the question, or figure out how it was possible in his fragile condition? Somewhere, he was still stuck in the house of horrors, and the outside surrounding was all too blinding. Mixing together, until it all faded to black.

Chapter 8: Thousand Eyes

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~Outside Harry's Mind~

The body curled in to a fetal position, shivered. With haste, as if remembering that the boy was indeed in the nude, they covered him. Shortly after, moving him to another room altogether. Sometime during it all, Narcissa insisted that the boy must have passed out from the shock. But the sigh of content that finally destroyed the ever agonizing face, made her question exactly what was happening.

She was no expert healer, nor a true medi-witch. The only way the answers they sought to be elucidated were through further examination. Leading him to another room, they all watched as the boy's body floated behind their Lord. Witnessing, how gentle he settled the teen down, before pulling up comforters-magically-to cover the boy. Perhaps, they should summon clothes for the exposed teen? Shaking her head inwardly, a battle ensued, wondering: Just what does our Lord have in mind?

Before she could conspire on such thoughts, they were dismissed discretely, held by an unbreakable not to say anything to any outside sources; which she gave her vow hastily to show her true allegiance. After, she was prompted to come check on the boy every other hour, until his condition improved. Just because he'd awoke from a coma, did not clear him out of the woods. She would need time, and soon after observing, report all she knew to one who specialized in advanced healing, that worked faithfully under their lord.

Looking the small figure over once more, she took leave, abandoning the young man; the Dark Lord with her subject, ever more complicated than she could possibly comprehend. She did not push it. Knowing it was not her place to question, shushing one Draco Malfoy, while shooing another Malfoy away.

They settled down around a large dining table, sitting close to one another comfortably. Thoughts churning in her head, at what could be a cause to Harry's sudden shift? The stony face of utter agony, now looking more relieved than ever. Maybe, he was coming to terms to what has happened in his past? Or maybe, he was forgetting? If only she and other's could find out sooner.

Slender finger's still stroked such dark fringes. Many memories and thoughts swirling around ever inconclusively, as a sigh of frustration escaped the Dark Lord's lips. He could never show this side to anyone, not even the Potter child. Yet, his perspective on such a word used loosely, began to change soon after having such visions of pain. The boy was far beyond, spoilt, and far beyond that of a child. He'd have to have another talk with Severus, for all that he'd gone through, the innocence lost made him so much more.

Maybe, less than an enemy?

Harry's memories collected were just as chaotic as the mind he still tried to reach. To no avail, the connection that he once shared seemed to be cut off. The ravenette was snipping at ties, anything that may have caused a serious change in his personality. Or, how his mind processed things, must have all altered drastically.

Lord Voldemort could see it now. Harry was relinquishing all horror to the dark. Allowing them all to fade, and erase away. He didn't know for sure if that was such a good idea, but it continued, without his permission. Even willing it to stop only backfired, as Voldemort could feel something tingle inside shoot dark sparks of antipathy at him.

It felt all too familiar, like a piece of his own soul shouting back angrily at such foolish antics. One's that could never forgive him, all the while thriving off of what has become of the youth lying in the bed before him. Letting it go for now, the dark lord vowed to pick up where he left off, as soon as his sworn enemy was healthy again. For now he could not discern how far off, or long that would be.

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Harry Potter.

The name said, as if an unspeakable called out to him. One moment he was in a cart with Hermione, her spirit begging for him to find her body. The next, he was waking to blinding light. A soft breeze from outside, sun filtering through. Stretching, as if waking from a long awaited slumber; one which he could never figure, felt so good. Though he had no idea, just how long he'd actually been out for, running fingers through dark tresses recklessly. Realization at how long his hair had become, a small panic, as he sat up abruptly. Eyes snapping open wildly, the unknown surroundings causing a brief attack, before calming at the hand squeezing his own so delicately.

Snape, was dumbstruck, he had no idea that 'this' would happen. Alone, sitting beside him, his godson, Draco Malfoy, who chanted the name, repeatedly under his breath. Perhaps even in his head. So seeing the boy rise as if nothing happened, had been disturbing, before those killing curse eyes closed once more, falling back in to a peaceful slumber. Harry would forget that this has happened, and occurred during the next several days.

Repeatedly coming to, after a week of sleeping fits, and nightmares which turned to cold sweats. Now, staring at the face of the world's greatest Dark Wizard of the century, Harry could only blink dumbfounded. Trying to pick up his last train of thoughts from whichever direction they headed.

Moving nimble fingers through a trench worth of hair, he felt he needed a haircut. One which, Aunt Petunia would be proud of. Focusing, he could barely remember her voice. Ruby red eyes stared in to his lavish forest irises, noticing the difference immediately. Laughing hysterically, as this had to be a dream, Harry couldn't stop the laughter that wrecked havoc about his body.

The stoic face of Voldemort sobered him up, assuring that this was no trick. Nor was it any dream he'd ever had before. "Hello, he who must night be named; one Tom Marvolo Riddle." The voice hoarse and low, speaking hurt, as he hadn't physically used his vocal cords that were once damaged to a degree that no one thought he'd get back, but it was a start.

Lord Voldemort let it pass, it was after all a sign of insanity, and he wouldn't show that the mortal man he left behind only became an affront to his name, for now. Harry's words portrayed the opposite of what he actually felt inside. There was a deafening terror threatening to rip pass his lungs, he wanted to yell, scream, throw things, lose control of his magic. Hurt, cry, pass out, wake up back in his bed in Hogwarts!

But none of these things were possible at the moment, and he knew he could never get back any of these things. Something was missing, a piece of his heart he was sure may have shattered during everything that had happened this summer's past. He couldn't recall how he came to be in possession of the man that killed him. He couldn't understand the conflicting feelings, torn between killing the snake or something else he couldn't place even the tip of his finger on. All he could do was ramble and wish for pain, anything was better than feeling empty!

Knowing somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he had another panic attack, he'd surely pass out, but it seemed an all too familiar sensation. The thought of reality settling in, comprehending that he would no doubt contradict something that felt like he had done copious amounts of times. "Harry Potter." The voice was hushed and raspy, a blink of the crimson eyes never revealing how irked he was at the display of madness. At hearing such a name, Voldemort dismissed such child's play, unceremoniously was not something the dark lord could ever be compared to. The air shifted, an unknown entity concerting between the two, taking place over the shoulders and heads' of both.

The bond, which Harry never truly learned how to work, becoming a light blue and green color, one he could see with his mind's eye move comfortably. As if, it were something so natural to breathing. Something, once red with such intent to hurt, settled over his being, cooling it to the core. Allowing him to register, just how different this situation could have gone. If, he couldn't gather the information throughly. That the Dark Lord before him, refrained from such violent acts as previously thought from referring him by another title. A small smile cracked across his features, an unknown cause keeping him calm. Reinstating his belief that, he, would no longer be hurt for the time being.

Staring around the room, he took in yet, another unfamiliar ceiling. The intricate patterns weaving in to one another, to the colors of such crimson and green colors. It was as if, this moment was preordained. Gasping for air, he sat straight up. The question of where he was, died on his tongue. A voice whispering that it was indeed, Malfoy Manor. Chuckling once more to himself, a bony hand went and combed through his black and slightly darkened green locks.

The color of his hair changing between the colors, and something he could only decipher as green anyway. Where'd purple bled through, blending perfectly with black. Trying to recall memories, or dreams were hard. "We have so many things to catch up on, and talk about." The ghostly voice whispered through him again, before he registered that it was in fact Voldemort's own sounding aloud.

Bringing such great confusion with it, Harry couldn't quite understand what his once thought of sworn enemy could be talking about. "What happened to you?" The voice again familiar, eyes going wide in shock. It was a question he refrained from answering, one that even if, his mind didn't block any memories, he could not form words. Nor could he fathom, what exactly the other being in the room was referring to.

"I don't...I can't...What do you mean?" Harry finally found solidity, words and questions running through his head at the implication. "I can't figure it out, and my head hurts when I try to think about it." The answer honest and best earnest in all it's worth. Quirking an invisible eyebrow, Voldemort let it go for the time being; shaking off the fact that he was having such a quiet and nonviolent conversation with someone, he still considered an arch-nemesis, someone he should've killed, and not have saved. But even that thought stopped, no magical child should die at the hands of such filthy muggles. At least if Potter were going to die, it would be much better to be done by his own hand, or at least within magical Britain.

"I mean, Potter, that you've been here for a little over two months." For an instant it looked like Voldermort was having a hard time with words, just how much should he reveal to his newly awakened guest. "You've been in a coma, and only slipped out of it a week ago." The Dark Lord spoke matter-of-factual. This could go so much smoother, if he could just use legimency on the youth. But, even he wasn't so foolish to try it on a fragile and broken mind.

"You must be ravished. I'll send a house-elf here shortly to fetch you something which to dine on." Voldemort went to stand, a hand shot out, grabbing firmly to his wrist. Before Harry could file what was happening, he let go, a warmth like that of the lake filtered in his memory. Not knowing the cause to such impulsive actions, leaving it at that, they stayed silent. One leaving to a door, the other in bed, biting his lip impatiently.

"I shall send Narcissa and Severus to check you over, before I send for a professional." Tom, in Harry's head said aloud. Nodding absently, without a fight too stuck, drowning in confusion, the ravenette let him continue. "Potter, do not get the wrong impression." The Dark Lord paused, "We are still enemies. Don't look at this as a sudden act of kindness." Stopping at the door with the last words breathed. Harry smiled, not knowing why he already knew this to be just what he expected. Something inside him tingled, bubbling up beneath the surface of his chest. A slight panic settling in, gulping almost aloud, fighting back the smile, wanting to quirk at his lips even more, wanting to break in to a full cackle of madness.

Keeping down the anger and laughter flitting through, confusing the teen even more, as he had no control over his emotions. Harry finally spoke, letting the words move through him. "Right." At seeing the Dark Lord didn't move to leave, a sense of peace encompassed him. "You only want me healthy, so you may torture me later."

"I am only a doll. A puppet for those around me to amuse." The smile he gave wasn't genuine, but seemed to play over with sadness. No matter, if Harry was aware of the display or not. Voldemort too decided it was best to forget that look, nothing quite as he expected from his end. The green eyed teen watching with such anxiousness as the greatest dark wizard of all time, since Grindewald, departed.

==~~.~~==

Harry ate silently, any attempt for his stomach to make an appearance of upheaval canceled out completely with will power. Not even four bites in, and he felt he couldn't keep the simplest of liquids down.

This truly was problematic.

The chemistry for a a bad recipe, mixing together and taking a form without constructive shape. Before he knew it, he was found lurching over the side of his new-found bed. Taking in such serene colors, head lulling to the side, he noticed the wind disturbing the curtains. Such green velvety curtains, he could imagine to the touch. The red blending in nicely with the black and cream colored room.

All such nice and expensive things for sure.

Something that even Petunia would love, such nicely polished marble floors. The hospitality never ceasing, antecedently taking note of the ex-professor's presence. Taking calming breathes, AK eyes trailed to the figure clad in darkness. Wanting to be just as smug and snarky, Harry kept his comments to himself.

"Well, hello there? Professor Snape." Though he tried, he couldn't keep the humor out of his voice. Taken slightly aback, the Potion's Master could only question the relevantly calm, cool, and calculative manipulations of the adolescent before him. This change, too drastic, was not like the Potter brat he knew. Then again, his previous conceived notion's of the spawn of such a bastard never added up well to James Potter. Choosing to ignore and refrain from any snide remarks, Severus quickly went over a diagnostic, all the while casting a quick Scourgify.

"Here." Snape took out various potions to give him. He already observed with such cruelty, how Harry- 'Harry? Since when?'- Potter curtly decorated the floor without thought, liquid diet on the floor. "These potions should help." Not saying anything more, Snape continued to examine the male, waiting for any unexpected changes. None occurred, petrifying his previous beliefs. The boy could only consume the many things given to him while inside the make-shift incubator; the container.

"These do not taste as good as one would hope. But from your many stays in the hospital wing, I suspect you already know. If, they become too hard to swallow, or you feel ill we shall discontinue, until I can find a more suitable way for you to consume them."

Nodding nonchalantly, the Boy-Who-Lived downed each potion carefully, very painfully slow. Letting each one settle in to his stomach, testing to make sure nothing came up, which Harry sighed happily, that none did. "Is this all that brings you here?" Verdant green eyes ravishing and scraping over the body present. "I know it was you who saved me. Why?" Even though he asked the question, he could barely remember the bits and pieces of memories snipping and cropping to smaller synopsis. Wanting to move, without warning, Harry was standing in front of the ex-Hogwart's employee.

Not even having time to blink his eyes accordingly, Snape was pushed to the ground. Harry anxiously straddling the older man's hips, all too enthusiastically, rocking his own against his ex-educator. "What shall I give as reward for such an atrocious act?" A slight hum left pink and cracked lips, not able to protest as it was too much. Snape snapped in to motion at the feel of such sinful and dreadful lips caressing against his own.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked, stiff as a board could be. Hands gripping tightly to the boy's shoulders.

"Whatever do you mean, Professor?" The feigned innocence, and such glee lighting once darkened eyes. "I'm paying you the reward one should seek, from rescuing such a gracious damsel in distress." A clear break in the convoluted mind could be seen. " Isn't this what you all come to want, eventually?" Forest green eyes so unfocused, hands digging more in to the outer cloak being worn. Another rock of the hips, a hand traveling down, and fingers brushing against a sex that he should not have touched. Snape regained all sense, expertly removing the boy from himself, shoving him roughly back.

Clearly the avoidance of contact from the older male brought out a dramatic change. The look of confusion and doubt taking form, causing green eyes to cloud over. "What am I? How did I-," before Harry could finish such a sentence his words fell short, cutting themselves off efficiently. With it, the collapse, Harry hunching over, dry heaving as if trying to keep the contents down. Prevailing against the odds, he did, but not without the consequence of fainting, passing out where he knelled.

Snape finally stood, the concern in his shocked expression back in place. No one would ever see this side of him, beside Draco of course. Carefully, moving to check the unconscious male, the older picked the fragile teen up. Knowing now more than ever, further test needed to be ran. Providing the young gryffindor survived his next attack of shivers wrecking his body.

Pale eyelids closed too tightly, as in pain. Snape could only move the boy back to the bed, summoning a calming draught and dreamless sleep in to his stomach. Only satisfied when the effects kicked in. The Potion's Master made haste to leave, pondering: What the next report, or how throughly worded should it be given?

Incomprehensible, and contradicting to evidence provided. Nothing could be so inconclusive! Walking through the many winding corridors, reaching his own secret chamber. Snape summoned the ever infamous fire whiskey, taking deep gulps heavily from the bottle. Not bothering with a glass, showing just how truly troubled he became by Potter's actions. Never being able to speak of this moment. Procuring such contents, allowing calming breaths, and a clear mind following suite. Snape stopped thinking, he would remove it from memory soon.

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The Dark Lord visited the chambers once more, hoping beyond anything imaginable: Progress. He was not one to just idly sit by and watch such fruitless efforts, prevail. The downward spiral, quite aware of, Voldemort could only sigh as he placed fingers to a scared forehead. Scrunching his eyebrow so suddenly, noticing something important. The scar was not as deep as it once were. The crevice of the shape, became something he could not understand. Harry's curse scar was healing, just like the rest of the adolescent adult before him.

This caused a manner of chain reactions to ensue. Some which, had the Darkest's of all, questioning his motives. 'Why, did I save him? My own sworn enemy, since birth?' The prophecy no longer of consequence to his mind. Still, the teen stirred lightly in his sleep unaware of what was happening. The many different changes and memories altering, giving way to much more pleasant ones. Harry Potter, would never be the same. The exchange at King's Cross and Hermione's words whispered, creating the new thoughts to take place. Yet again waking with no recollection at all of what was being erased, and what had already been scrubbed and pushed to the very depths and back of his fragile mind.

"Hello, Tom." The words thought to have been repeated again on a never-ending loop, the scene seemed all too familiar. Like something he did before, catching the slight difference this time, changed things, completely in a manner of speaking, a stinging hex catching him in the left arm. Harry would've hissed, instead his fingers went to rub the spot. "This will be your only warning, Potter. Don't call me that, or else the next hex I send will hurt more than just a slight tingle."

Voldemort stayed silent, ignoring the hushed words of the ravenette lying on his own death bed. Never truly understanding or knowing the full extent of the teen's condition. Voldemort moved from where he stood, only to hand him more potions, this time accompanied by food. It had been nearly a week of the same repetition, to one of the occupants in the room.

Harry, was finally able to handle the mushed food more. Rubbing lightly at the tingling sensation of his own scar, trying to comprehend, what had brought about the change between them. His mind could think of nothing that he was currently aware of, the whole exchange seemed oddly bizarre; too rehearsed on a loop. One he was sure was broken at the moment.

Smiling awkwardly and lying back on the nice comfortable bed. Harry wondered: When the scenery would change into that of a dungeon? Certainly, the dark lord himself wouldn't have ordered such strict rules, and words of false safety. Learning from a rather young age, that no move or safety went without ulterior motives. When would be the time he awoke, to find himself chained up? Finding that Vernon's punishment was the preamble affect that gave way to more drastic ones?

He couldn't measure it. Didn't want to comprehend his current situation. Wouldn't come to terms with the lost time, or anything that happened during the summer. 'Just forget it all, Harry.' A voice whispered in the back of his mind, not his own, but entirely familiar.

His head and heart in a battle, one trying to win the other. Feeling strange, that some way, some how he had changed. From past events that he could not recall. The names, far off and unfamiliar as it were the opposite. 'Matt', his mind breathed out for him, trying to help cope with the unscheduled change in environment. The last he remembered was trying to escape from a greenhouse, a garden of one of the most exotic plants he never became familiar with.

Gardenia?

It too seemed forbidden, more heavy and painfully weighing low like a crown heavy on his head. The unspeakable, the unthinkable, they all continued like this for a couple of days. Before Harry was able to adjust to his surroundings. Coming to terms with the fact that this treatment-one from an enemy no less-was so unforthcoming and unexpected.

'Why?' His mind could only churn out questions. No answers to behold. The ravenette needed change. 'But how much more, before he could comprehend just how much has already been done on his behalf?'

Continuing down this path, Voldemort found him lost in thought. The powers that may be flaring deadly, swirling around in the air as to burn, more than anything cut the breath of any beings lungs. But, he, found himself unaffected, the only amongst to be unaffected. Voldemort only moved in close, watching as blue and purple flames of an altered Fiendfyre came forth. Not doing harm, the intent not there or true to the boy's own heart.

Fingers delicately stroking, and calming such magical flames. Harry could only sigh,the voice of Hermione repeating to find her. His own hands coming to cover his face in horror. 'What have I done? Where can I find you, Mione?'

Of course the girl never answered back, but he made a vow to change himself and everything from there on. He would find her, after getting answers, in the waking world, even if it caused him his own life. Breathing in calmly, his darkened green eyes could only stare, finally taking note of the fingers stroking and rubbing comforting circles in his hair. The dark lord was not one to sympathize, but he would not ignore the fact that this child of Magic, had been abused.

No one deserved the things he suffered through. The harsh environment and conditions which the child has survived became a question. His sudden kindness? He could not explain. Something indeed was wrong, and once he found it, if the boy wished, he'd have no problem finishing what was started all those years ago.

The healer finally showed, wanting to give a thorough examination, after hearing such concerns, she did her best to diagnoses. But the hard part was far from over. A few questions led to more. Some which, Harry could never answer before feeling a painful headache thrum to life, pounding against his skull.

"Are you a healer?" A curt nod followed, before the motherly looking Medi-witch could answer, Harry intervened. "Let me guess, you work well with the minds of others as well?"

"Hello, Mr. Potter. I do believe we met before, but it seems you have forgotten already."

"I mean you do look familiar, I know I've seen you before. And please, don't call me by my last name." He said going to hold his head in his hands, the headache becoming fierce.

"Here, this should help." The kind woman said, handing him a potion he knew well, a migraine reliever. Sighing contently as he took it from her hands, he didn't know if he could probably consume something Severus hadn't given him.

"My name is Mariam Strout. It's okay if you don't remember me entirely, but with time you may. Right now, that is the least of our worries. Rest Mr.P- Harry."

As he laid back down, just to do that. Concern immediately flooded her eyes, turning to the feared lord, she followed him as he motioned her to. "So, what is your conclusion?"

"Honestly, he needs more time to heal before I can give a full report. His mind is fragile, split even, some healing has already begun. I'm afraid that we will not know until the process is complete, and the scarring settles in more." Voldemort nodded in thought, it was just as he suspected.

"That will be all, Ms. Strout. I trust you will speak of this to no one." The grave look she returned symbolized fear, both knowing she couldn't even if she wanted to. "You are dismissed until I summon you once more." With a curt bow, she exited as far away as she could get from the man. The good healer now knew that Harry's maltreatment went beyond what anyone could imagine. Harry was kept out of the loop for so long, it was about time to let him know what reality was, and what was happening in the real world.

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Screaming aloud, waking himself, Harry was no longer in a daze. The passing days were now all but a dream to him. The turning point was the faint dream of one of the many fist coming towards his face, but that fist never made contact, it only burst in a blue and black flame, charring even bones down to ash. Shaking himself from the bed, one that was not his own, he spun circles trying to put the fire out.

"Harry?" The familiar yet annoying voice released him from the confusion. Draco Malfoy stood in the archway leading to his way out; if he were planning an escape that is, but he didn't feel the need to. Curiosity also got the better of him, hating to admit that part, instead he looked around him. There were no flames of the sort in his dreams, noting but the charring of blankets and bed sheets, which he sure happened to be his doing. Sitting back down, and taking calming breathes, AK eyes finally met that of such steely blue.

"What am I doing here? Where am i?" The words fumbled out before he had time to correct the snide remarks coming from thin pink lips.

"You're at my home, if you haven't noticed, Potter." Knowing to read between the lines, the younger teen didn't take long to retaliate with his well renowned anger.

"I know that already! I'm not daft, Malfoy." They seemed to be back on normal speaking terms with each other. "I want to know, how I came to be here?"

"Isn't it, obvious?" A finely arched eyebrow showed so much, not even bothering to hide the pride swelling his chest.

"What?" Harry really didn't understand, he could barely remember anything that transpired between living with the Dursley's to somehow being transported here. Maybe his uncle banged him up real good, killed some braincells, and damaged more than half his brain.

"When your precious familiar never showed, I got Uncle Sev to come with me to get you."

"Wha-a?" The question or sentence never completed as an insurmountable confusion settled over his shoulders. "I'm sure I sent her, I got her out just in time before Unc-" Again words being cut off, stopping themselves, as if the thought process itself would lug up old and painful memories. Changing his tactics, Harry became overtly worried, not only from what he'd just heard, but for the safety of his precious and first friend. "How long have I been here?"

"Only two months."

At that answer, the shock covering his face couldn't be masked. Harry always showed his true feelings, so easily. Coming to sit down beside his school rival, Draco could only stare out the corner of his eye. Not knowing what would happen if truth got out, he thought it best to keep the findings of Hedwig to himself.

"Wait, so are you telling me, I've been here this whole entire time?" At the nod of a head, his posture changed, stiffening up. If he'd been here for nearly two months, then he'd been missing almost seven weeks worth of memories. "What happened before I came here?" The feel of fingers coming out to shake him from his stupor, snapped him from the trance-like state he was in. With it came the unforeseen reaction as he shot from the bed, yelling at the blond,"Don't touch me!" Small sparks of blue lighting the duvet on fire, crumbling to the floor, breathing heavily. Harry never noticed as the older male put it, cautiously approaching him. "Harry," It was whispered as if frightened, fingers going out wanting to lay a reassuring hand on too thin shoulders.

"Don't touch me!" Harry said tiredly, fierce even if whispered. Shaking his head suddenly, he wondered where such dark thoughts came from? Why such a violent reaction to hands-even those meant to comfort-scare him so much? Brought so much fear?

"Like I'd ever want to touch you in that wa-," Their eyes met briefly, the platinum blond changing his words quickly, "I won't touch you again, sorry mate."

"I'm not your mate." Harry said finally settling down, if Malfoy felt insulted he never voiced so. The silence resumed for what felt like an eternity, but really was only a couple of minutes, before Harry finally spoke again.

"Where's the bathing room? I really need to take a shower." He couldn't even remember the last time he took a proper one. A flash of memory crossing his mind, faster than the speed of light. There was a smile, red tips of brown hair, and silvery blue eyes.

Holding his head, he barely caught the words passing from the blonde's lips. "It's this way, I'll show you." The junior Malfoy said, removing himself from the bed, signaling for Harry to follow as he waited at the door, leading to where-ever out was.

==~~.~~==

After a soothing and much needed bathe, no matter how grateful, Harry's mind went back to the flash of images he saw before being escorted by the generous blond. "What was that?" He couldn't answer, and instead decided to position himself at the seal of the window. A soft seat, overly-cushioned, possibly charmed, as his eyes scanned the outside surroundings. Landing ever so briskly, skimming, jolting back to the scenery before him.

There was a garden.

His eyes lighted, a tingling chest feeling oddly pleasant, mind clearing peacefully.

The garden, so beautiful, lavishly green. Bursting bright with so many colors, it hurt the eyes. Still, the landscape was breathtaking as he absently brushed his fingers against the glass pane keeping him in, and completely separated from the delicate and sweet floral fragrance. Something he could just imagine, more flashes of images going through his mind. The migraine he felt before slowing coming back to life, uncoordinated pictures in frames moving, little by little shattering and splintering at the ends.

Inhaling deep again, the fragrance returned, imaginary. And it was enough to calm him, as he stayed there, pressed against the thin piece of cool glass. Like a lost child staring out the window, hoping desperately to get in. A pained look crossing his eyes, face stoic and schooled without his permission. Rubbing his scar, he finally became aware of the presence in the room.

Funny, he just now noticed that he was able to sense Riddle this whole time. Wondering, if it were the same for said Dark Lord? "We can have your room changed, if you'd like?" Harry let a small smile crack apart his lips, more healed than before, but still unhealthy and dry. A few more rounds of potions, some treatment, and that is all that would be needed.

Although a part of him wanted to refuse.

The smile was candidly cynical. Voldemort recognized that much, but wanted to continue. Something resonating from within the boy called out to him. Demanding he protected the soon to be adult, child. Harry's birthday was right around the corner, but he just couldn't compel himself another to care, and could feel the same feelings coming from the boy. At that, the dark lord finally understood the conflicting emotions. Harry, unaware of it, was sending his unbridled emotions across the link. Gathering his usual occulmens barrier and donning his mask of indifference, he approached.

xxxxxHPLVHPLVHPLVTMRxxxxxTFOGxxxTFOGxxxxHPLVHPLVHPLVTMTHPxxxx

A/N: I know, Dumbledore died in June. But for the sake of the story, he died at an earlier date and time. I tried to make this as real as possible. The month currently is now July. If you remember, Harry was sent back sooner than anyone else, school being in full swing. With Dumbledore no longer there, for Harry's own protection, the ministry wouldn't allow him to attend the Great Headmaster's Funeral. Instead within the week, he was sent directly to the Dursley's. So the end of April, Dumbledore died, and the beginning of May Harry goes back 'Home'.

I hope my ramblings made sense. And, yes, I am aware of the fact that I changed this chapter...More like modified, I wasn't satisfied with the draft though I uploaded it. Wouldn't be the first time a mistake is made on my behalf. And, yes, there will probably be many. C+C only, no flames. If you wanna flame throw me, go on ahead, I got a charm to counter it. For all those who have supported, thank you so much. And those who hate, I'm not forcing you to read this 'rubbish', you're only torturing yourself. Ah, how cute, we have masochist present. Alright, enough of this. Thank you to all, who have read, reviewed, or both. Thank you for indulging in my imagination.