AN: I have always seen Voldemort as fundamentally what one might call "evil". However, in my fanfictions at least, he has always been human. He never was and never will be totally irredeemably evil from birth. Voldemort is prey to emotions such as love and grief, though he represses them. I see Voldemort as human first and evil second.
My computer crashed on Monday so I am updating from a friend's laptop and can't update my homepage. Thus the next chapters of the Manipulator are not on my homepage yet even though the pages have already been made.
A faint wheezing sound greeted Harry's ears as he awoke from the artificial slumber; a sound like the distant whistle of a steam train hidden within the folds of ancient mountains. It took several moments for Harry to realise that it was the sound of his breathing.
His brain felt lethargic and his limbs were likewise heavy and numb. The wheezing sounds continued as Harry desperately drew in as much air as possible through his blocked nostrils, which caused the pounding in his head to reappear with a vengeance.
A low groan escaped his cracked and dry throat, but it sounded more like a broken whimper of pain. The bed clothes felt hot and flush against his skin and he tried in vain to throw them off. The heat rose in his body as if he was trapped in a furnace and the hot flames were licking at his sides. A dull pain throbbed dramatically in his head like the wrath pounding of war drums and the memories rolled back in like the marching row of soldiers.
Sirius! Remus…what has Voldemort done with everyone?
Horrible visions of execution flashed before his eyes and although he had never attended a public execution in person, Malfoy was all too happy to provide the intricate details.
No, he said…Voldemort said he would not hurt the others if Remus and Sirius brought back the real murderer…but what if they don't succeed? What if Voldemort won't let them succeed?
Harry's brain reeled with the possibilities and he slumped against his pillows feeling as if thinking had drained his life blood. His eyelids drooped once again and soon they closed all together.
The sound of the door opening shook the mist of sleep from Harry's head but he did not open his eyes for fear of what he would see.
"I know you are awake, Harry," the familiar tone was colder than Harry remember.
Voldemort must still be angry with me…
"Come, sit up and take your medicine."
Strong hands lifted his shoulder and pulled him into a sitting position, which drained the blood from his head, leaving his feeling faint.
Cautiously Harry opened his eyes and was relieved to see only Voldemort beside his bed levitating a small tray of potions. The Dark Lord look calm and controlled, with no outwards signs of displeasure he would surely show if he was really…angry.
The silver tray set itself on the bedside cabinet and the miniature potions bottles rattled on contact. Voldemort seated himself on the edge of the bed and calmly selected three bottles from the assortment without looking at Harry.
Is he shunning me? Maybe he simply doesn't have time to deal with me right now, which would be a definite blessing.
However the thin threads of hope were broken by his more rational and Slytherin side.
Of course he was time to deal with me, after all he is here personally administrating my medicine…but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. He's not shunning me, because he would have simply sent a house elf…either that or he wants to toy with me before he destroys me…
A low chuckle broke the unpleasant chain of thought.
"You amuse me to no end, my child…no I have no intention of destroying you."
Harry bristled with indignation and hurriedly quailed the feeling in case it would incense the Dark Lord. Voldemort could be highly unpredictable on occasions.
With a wave of his hand the first potion bottle uncorked itself and Voldemort reach towards Harry to bring him forwards.
"Come, drink these. Healer Farius prepared them especially,"
At the mention of the specialist healer Harry almost froze with fright. Cold shivers of fear slithered down his spine like icy rivets of water and the fear infected his voice.
"What's wrong with me?" he could hardly keep the panic from his tone.
The features on Voldemort's face rearranged themselves in an indulgent and comforting smile but underneath the facade Harry sensed anticipation, the same sense of gleeful anticipation that Voldemort felt just before torturing a hapless victim.
Perhaps Harry unconsciously shrank away from him because the next thing Harry's brain registered was Voldemort's hand on his forearm, preventing him from withdrawing.
"Fearful, Harry?" the words were sibilant hiss and Harry felt a familiar pricking sensation on the back of his neck.
"Y-yes…"
He knew better than to lie at this point, there were times when his bravado held out but in the last year Harry had learnt an important lesson: some fights were not worth fighting. It was better to give in before he did any irreparable damage
Voldemort looked pleased at the reactions but his eyes seemed to soften somewhat as he took in Harry's pathetic state.
"You have defined me in front of my followers, what do you think you deserve?"
A small hesitation was the only indication of Harry's reluctance.
"Punishment," he replied meekly and stole a look at Voldemort's eyes. They were filled with undeniable pleasure.
"Punishment is such a harsh word, used for children and criminals alike…I prefer discipline. For I am mere disciplining you for later life, Harry."
A wave of anger seemed to emerge from nowhere and rose through Harry like flames in a fire.
You are just a sadist…you enjoy hurting me!
"Oh, Harry, you deserve an extra beating for that remark," hissed Voldemort slyly as he cupped Harry's chin in his hand.
Harry struggled to release himself from the grip but the coolness of the palm felt soothing against his burning skin and he felt himself relaxing in the grip. The hand moved to cool his cheeks and Harry leaned into the touch as a welcome relief from the furious heat that enveloped him. However the burning shame of his body's betrayal lingered, unquenched by the cold hands.
"Poor, poor, child, you are burning up…"
The words were cooed as if Voldemort was speaking to an infant incapable of comprehending what he said.
"Drink up the potion, Harry."
A cooling fluid was tipped into his mouth and Harry gladly swallowed it. The thick potion slithered down his throat slowly, leaving a cooling sensation in its wake.
"That felt better, didn't it…am I so terrible now, Harry?"
No…, thought Harry as he lounged back against the pillows but the encompassing feeling of rage materialised once again to boil away at the bottom of his heart. You are a sadist…you are…nothing will ever change that.
Long fingers stroked his hair and Harry restrained himself from fighting them.
"I know of your thoughts, little one, and yet I have to say they are so often inaccurate I cannot correct every one,"
Harry's expression remained as blank but the hate was raging inside.
You took everything I ever loved away from me!
"Yes…I did, but have I not replaced those things? I have not provided you with a home?" asked Voldemort his green eyes studying Harry keenly.
"You use for your own gains, you toy with my mind, you…you…what do you want from me?"
The confused question burst forth with a passion that Harry did not know he possessed and even Voldemort was temporary stunned. However he recovered almost instantaneously.
"What do I want from you?"
Long arms snaked towards him and enveloped his body. Suddenly the Dark Lord was closer…so much closer than he was before. His dark robes filled Harry's vision and Harry could almost feel the sheer magical presence of the Dark Lord suffocating him.
"What do I want from you?"
He was being pressed to the firm body, his head lolled forwards and rested against the velvet folds of Voldemort's robes. The faint scent of cognac and expensive after shave floated into Harry's senses.
"Harry, I want your soul…"
The terrifying words jerked Harry out of his befuddled mental state like a bucket of icy water.
"You…you-,"
A low chuckle betrayed the dark amusement,
"No, no, Harry…I'm not going to suck your soul away like a dementor…"
"What-,"
"I want your devotion, Harry Potter. I want you to love me, dear child, now wouldn't that be the ultimate triumph?"
Harry's breath hitched in his throat as if the air had suddenly become solid lead. He could not breathe, his ribcage jerked helplessly as he felt the heavy sense of suffocation close in.
"Breath"
The leaden air instantly melted and Harry gave a great shuddering breath. His hands were trembling.
No, how can he possibly want me to…to…love him? I'm a boy! The pervert!
He did not have time to see the sudden fury ignite in Voldemort's eyes before a stinging slap landed across his face. It was meant to humiliate rather than hurt but even so Harry felt the prickling of tears in the back of his eyes.
The voice that followed was smouldering with barely suppressed anger.
"Do you really believe me to be some sort of paedophile? Do you really believe that I am sexually attracted to you?"
Fear flashed across Harry's heart but the stinging pain was unconsciously welcome for it chased away the horror and disgust at previous statement.
"You really are a dirty minded child," Voldemort snarled, as close to righteous indignation as it was logically possible for such an immoral person.
Perhaps Harry should have interjected and pleaded his innocence, or failing that, his relief at being wrong. However all words stuck in his throat as securely as the air had once done when he was suffocating.
Beside him the anger in the Dark Lord's eyes seemed to subside somewhat and his accelerated breathing slowed. Softness crept back into the expressive lines of the handsome features and blood rush back into once tightly pressed lips.
Harry's voice returned and a small whimper escaped, which sounded shamefully pathetic. However displays of weakness served to please sadists and Voldemort was no exception or the hard glint in his eyes vanished completely.
"…I apologise, Harry."
The apology sounded almost genuine now that the voice had become soft and comforting once one. However Harry held no illusions as to what Voldemort really felt although he did not voice his suspicions.
"I had no idea the more unpleasant aspects of politics had reached your ears…"
Relief was short lived for on reflection, Harry still did not understand what Voldemort wanted. It was much easier to comprehend Voldemort's physical desires for a lush young body than it was to grasp the twist psychology of his desire for devotion.
"What do you want with me than?"
The question far too bold even before Harry had finished pronouncing the words. He could not take it back so he lay back down against the pillows waiting for the anger to reinstate itself in Voldemort's gleaming green eyes. It did not bode well when Harry saw nothing but dark amusement and desire burning in the depth of the emerald orbs.
"You don't understand do you, my child? You cannot comprehend what I desire, can you? It is so much simpler to believe my desires amount to nothing more than impulses of the flesh but I am afraid it is a lesson you must learn: rarely are things so simple.
'Let me enlighten you then, my poor confused little boy, let me tell you exactly what I want from you."
Voldemort leaned into Harry's body like a serpent positioning itself for the killer strike. The macabre smile that followed seemed almost like a snake exposing its fangs for the benefit of its prey. The terrible, twisted delight was a diabolical gleam in the Dark Lord's eyes.
"I want you to love me…to love me even more than you loved your parents, your godfather and Dumbledore. I want you to become my child, and I want you to come to me willingly, to seek out my company to bask in my presence as you basked Dumbledore's. I want you to love me and only me…
"I want to see the day when I can present you to Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore and see the betrayal in their faces when they realise that you are mine!
"What sweet vengeance it will be…Harry Potter devoted to me, his arch nemesis…my ultimate triumph."
Suddenly a rush of calm surged through Harry sweeping away the emotions of fear, anger and…guilt. Slowly he turned back to Voldemort and met his eye with a determination he had no idea he possessed.
"I should warn you, Voldemort, you won't succeed…because you will have to kill me before I betray the ones I love."
The amusement did not disappear from Voldemort's eyes, instead it seem to increase ten fold until the silent twisted laughter spread into the corners of his eyes.
"I would be so disappointed if you gave in, my little one. I shall enjoy breaking you…"
"That will never happen, Voldemort," replied Harry calmly, staring straight into the those terrible eyes that promised so much pain.
"Well then…let the games begin…"
AN: I love writing Harry and Voldemort and there will be lashings of it soon…some bits will become rather disturbing but nothing beyond PG..
Please review, your comments are what keeps the plot line alive and kicking.