He knew Voldemort had left the castle, he'd restrained him to the bed before he went, and apologized when Harry couldn't hide the distress from his face. Without him there, it meant hours of uninterrupted, messed up memories and dreams. It only stopped when Voldemort woke him, brushing his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

Voldemort helped him over to the armchair by the window and lowered him down. Pain flared in his head, and he gritted his teeth, riding through the pain.

Voldemort moved away then and spoke,

"There's binoculars."

"So?"

"You can look out the window…"

Harry frowned but reached for the binoculars anyway. He pressed them to his eyes and looked out the window across the fields. He didn't know what Voldemort wanted him to see. There was nothing but mud, grass, trees, and then something flashed in the distance. Something fast moving caught the sun.

Then another.

He realized it was a road…A muggle road… A road to freedom, people to help him… he could see them whizz by like sparkling dust, there but out of reach. He put the binoculars down, then stared at Voldemort,

"Message received."

"What message?"

"You want me to realize I'm helpless. I'm reliant on you. I can't escape."

"In a few weeks, you won't need to. You're a captive, that's all. My toy, my plaything, until I deem it fit to set you free and send you back to Dumbledore."


He must have dozed off because whatever he'd been dreaming about had started to fade into darkness. Harry could hear tapping, and when he opened his eyes, it took a few minutes to adjust, and realize it was rain hitting the window beside him.

Voldemort was perched on the arm of the chair, leaning into Harry's space. He stroked his cheek. Harry didn't know how many days had passed. They merged together and were only interrupted when he had to move. He slept in the bedroom at night but spent the days in the sunroom. Voldemort stared so intently into his eyes that Harry had to look away. Voldemort finally spoke,

"You're crying…"

Harry shook his head as he tried to conceal his face,

"No…"

Voldemort cocked his head to the side, amusement glinting in his eyes,

"It's fascinating. I hardly have any emotions, but you, your face, your eyes, your voice, you're so expressive. You have so many emotions, and you don't even try to hide them."

Harry reasoned,

"It's the potions…"

Harry knew it hadn't been long since he'd last taken the potions, not because he remembered, but because of the hazy sensation at the back of his skull. The detached, cut-loose feeling that scared him. He didn't want to talk, worried what would come out, but Voldemort liked to ask. Harry could see it in his eyes. He liked for his mind to tear itself apart through dreams and memories. It was entertainment for him. Cruel bastard, but he acted so caring while he watched, wiped Harry's face, staring deep into his eyes. He looked excited, like he was putting together a puzzle, and was amazed by what he saw.

Voldemort murmured.

"Why were you crying?"

Harry bit his lip,

"Because I'm a bad person."

Voldemort's thumb paused, and he blinked, then frowned,

"How are you a bad person?"

"Because I lied to everyone…"

Voldemort's frown deepened. He looked away, then back at Harry before inquiring,

"Would you tell the truth if time was turned?"

Harry contemplated that for a moment before shaking his head imperceptibly,

"If you had told everyone the truth, you would have been blamed for Cedric's Diggory's death. There would have been people who would have labelled you as a liar or an attention seeker. Your name would have been dragged through the mud. You would have been publicly humiliated…So believe me when I say that lying to everyone didn't make you a bad person…Telling the truth would have…"

He closed his eyes,

"But now the world doesn't know that you're back and preparing to take over…People will die and it'll be all my fault…"

Voldemort chuckled softly,

"What is going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Harry shook his head,

"Those potions… I don't want to take them anymore."

Voldemort argued,

"But they help with the pain."

He opened his eyes again,

"I'd rather take the pain than my mind unraveling like this. You enjoy it though, don't you? You like seeing me suffer."

Voldemort shook his head,

"It's not about suffering. I like learning about you, how you justify things, make sense of what's happening around you. It's interesting, but if you really don't want to take them anymore, I will not make you."

Harry remembered what it felt like to feel the pain in full, and shuddered. Voldemort watched him, then sighed.

"How about we find a happy medium, a balance so we muffle some of the pain, and let you keep your head."

Harry nodded,

"Yes."

"Half a flask every four hours, but if you need more, tell me. Understand?"

"I understand."

"Despite what you think, I do not want to see you suffering. I only want to know you, and for you to know me."

"Why?"

Voldemort shrugged,

"I just do. We're playing a game, and games are supposed to be enjoyable for all involved, even this one, oh, and Harry…"

"What?"

"You're not a bad person."

It shouldn't have made him feel better, but it did.