Harry hated the indignity of being so weak he spilled his food, so weak he had to support his forearm with his other hand. Voldemort waited until it got too much for him, and he sighed in defeat.
"You'll let me do it?"
Harry nodded, dropping his arms back into his lap. Voldemort grinned, then began spooning the soup into his mouth. Home-made chicken soup, Voldemort had told him. The smell had filled the room as soon as Voldemort had conjured it…But he seriously doubted that Voldemort had cooked it himself…He couldn't imagine him standing in the kitchen and cooking… That image was too domestic to fit Voldemort's Dark lord profile, but he found himself liking it, nevertheless. After one mouthful Harry knew it was the best soup, he'd ever had… Better than anything he'd ever had at Hogwarts…Better than Mrs. Weasley's cooking…
"Did you make this?"
Voldemort chuckled softly,
"You would not believe me…"
That was true. But what he did believe was that Voldemort enjoyed feeding him. His eyes went wide, and shiny, and he usually leaned into his personal space. Harry thought about smacking the spoon away, or spitting the soup at Voldemort, but he did neither. He pushed the defiant part of him away, and accepted the situation. Voldemort grinned, and Harry hated how he seemed to know the battle going on in his head.
Finally, Voldemort spoke,
"I took the liberty of collecting your mail from Privet Drive."
Harry felt his curiosity pique,
"Really?"
Voldemort nodded as he conjured a bunch of letters, wrapped neatly with a tweed rope,
"You should go through them later and think about suitable replies. I will help you pen them down tomorrow."
Harry leaned back against the headboard as he stared at the bunch,
"Did you go through them?"
Voldemort smirked,
"I did, actually…"
Harry bit his lip,
"Then you must have thought of the replies I should send"
Voldemort nodded,
"I did…"
Harry closed his eyes as he spoke,
"Why didn't you just write them down and send them? Why are you showing me the letters?"
He felt Voldemort's fingers brush his cheek and then heard him whisper softly,
"Because I want you to stay in touch with reality… You will not be staying here forever. As soon as you recover, you will return to Hogwarts and be with your friends. It is of utmost importance that you don't arouse their suspicions."
Harry pursed his lips as the sense of apprehension overtook him. He would have to lie again. He would have to pretend to be normal again. He would have to pretend that everything was okay…that everything was fine…that Voldemort wasn't lurking in the shadows, bidding his time and preparing to strike… He opened his eyes and met Voldemort's gaze,
"I'll have to lie again…"
Voldemort raised both eyebrows, then put the bowl on the side,
"You are more than welcome to announce the truth if that is what you wish…"
The burning intensity of Voldemort's gaze forced him to lower his and he spoke,
"I can't."
Voldemort took a hold of his chin and forced him to meet his gaze,
"Why not?"
He wanted nothing more than to stop discussing the topic, but he knew perfectly well that Voldemort wouldn't let it go,
"Because no one will believe me and…"
Voldemort's grip tightened a fraction of an inch on his chin and he inquired,
"And?"
Harry closed his eyes and spoke,
"You saved my life… You're taking care of me…You're feeding me…I feel indebted to you…"
Voldemort grinned,
"I want you to remember that for the rest of your life, Harry… I want you to remember that when the time comes for you to pick a side publicly…"
Harry nestled his head in the pillow as raw and unadulterated fear gnawed at his heart. Voldemort smoothed his fingers through his hair and inquired,
"Do you consider me to be handsome?"
Harry momentarily forgot everything as he focused his attention on Voldemort's question,
"You said that to me a lot when you were drifting in and out. You kept calling me handsome, you kept thanking me for helping you. You said it so softly, like you couldn't believe someone would do such a thing…You don't say thank you as much now."
Harry scrunched his face as it came back to him,
"I remember…"
"You remembered I'm the monster than murders as well as the man that helped you."
Harry whispered out,
"The monster part outweighs the man."
Voldemort sighed,
"Well, at least you still think I'm handsome."
He grinned again, showing off his attractive face. Harry pulled his face away from the pillow and spoke,
"You're a man and a monster, handsome on the outside, but ugly down to your core."
Voldemort picked up the bowl of soup and resumed spooning it into Harry's mouth. It tasted so good; Harry couldn't deny himself. Voldemort whispered,
"Even so… You are still letting me take care of you."
He inquired tiredly,
"What's the alternative?"
A truly malicious glint entered Voldemort's eyes as he spoke,
"You know the alternative. It flickers behind your eyes, stiffens your body. You could fight against me, but deep down, that is not what you want."
Harry knew that was the truth…He wanted to fight Voldemort with everything he had in him but…He had nothing left inside of him…He felt so hollow…so weak…so utterly useless….
"Dumbledore conditioned you to hate me and the part of you that is still obedient to him wants to fight me but you…the real you…the part of you that hasn't been conditioned… Well, that part wants me to take care of you, and I am."
