A hand was on his face was desperately pawing away his tears. Reality came back to him, and he jolted, sparking pain in his head. He hissed, panted, then whimpered at the pain. His whimper morphed into something angry, twisted, a fierce growl as he struggled to get out of the bed, out of this place, out of his mind if he could escape it.

Someone rolled on top of him, pinning him to the mattress. Harry fought him, tried to buck him off, but Voldemort managed to avoid him. Harry's anger turned back into despair, and he whimpered into Voldemort's chest as he sank down on top of him. He released Harry's wrists from above his head but kept over him. His toned upper chest was the perfect place for Harry to press his face, and sob into.

Harry clutched Voldemort's back and dug his nails in 'til his fingers shook. Voldemort's heartbeat drummed a steady rhythm against Harry's forehead, and he soon calmed down listening, and feeling, the heart of the monster. Finally, Voldemort asked,

"Are you with me?"

Harry snuffled, still firmly glued to Voldemort's chest,

"Yes, I'm with you."

Voldemort spoke softly,

"I am going to get off you now. Do not damage yourself."

He murmured brokenly,

"Damage? I'm already broken. You've broken me."

Voldemort chuckled mirthfully,

"You were broken long before you met me. I have simply given you a small push, and you have shattered completely."

Voldemort rolled off him, but instead of taking the space beside the window, he moved to the opposite side, and propped his head up with his hand. The light from the lamp shone in his eyes, and the cast dark shadows on his features.

"I have heard you cry in your sleep plenty of times but that was something else… That was … raw emotion. What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't remember… I wouldn't tell you even if I did…"

"Why not?"

"Because you wouldn't understand, no one understands."

Voldemort frowned,

"How do you know?"

"You said you've never loved anything."

"I haven't."

"Then how can you possibly understand?"

Voldemort looked out the window,

"I want to… I want to understand. I want to know what made you roar like that and sink your nails into my flesh."

Harry couldn't look Voldemort in the eye, so instead he spoke to his chin,

"I was dreaming about… about Sirius…"

"Your Godfather?"

Harry nodded silently. Voldemort spoke,

"I'm not judging you, Harry. Tell me about Sirius."

"I thought he'd betrayed my parents… But he'd been wrongfully accused…"

"I am aware of all that… Wormtail had a hand in it…Tell me…How is he as a person?"

Harry swallowed hard,

"He's…He's wonderful…He's witty and brave…"

Voldemort pursed his lips,

"But they are not the traits that make him so invaluable to you…Tell me what makes him invaluable to you."

Harry licked his lips, then started telling Voldemort all about Sirius in detail…how they'd met…how he'd helped him escape…how Sirius had told him that he could live with him once his name was cleared…

Voldemort smiled. It looked sinister in the flickering light, but Harry was convinced it wasn't meant to be. He lifted his chin, gesturing Harry to continue and so Harry told him how Sirius had hid in a cave last year just to provide him with moral support and advise him in his hard times,

"What happened in the dream, Harry?"

Harry pawed off the remaining tears as he spoke,

"There was a duel going on… Sirius was duelling someone, and I was watching it all from a distance but I couldn't help him even though I was dying to…And then…"

Voldemort had a look of wonder on his face,

"And then what, Harry? That was quite a sound you made … tortured, devastated… I've not heard anything like it before."

"I watched him die and it felt so real…"

Voldemort lowered his gaze. Harry fixated on his long lashes, the smooth skin of his eyelids, the droop of his eyebrows where he was frowning. Then he looked at Harry again, and the light flickered in his brown eyes. He looked so sincere Harry couldn't breathe,

"How did that make you feel?"

"It felt like my world was ending…I screamed for him, but he wouldn't respond… He had never kept me waiting…He'd risked everything just to help me...But he just wouldn't respond when I was screaming for him…"

His lower lip wobbled as a fresh stream of tears threatened to escape his eyes again when the scenes replayed in front of his eyes. Voldemort touched his cheek gently and the images were dispelled like smoke,

"You said no one understood, but I do. Or at least as much as a man like me can. Your Godfather sees you as a person…not as the chosen one or some hero…He sees the good, the bad, and the ugly in you…and he's always there for you… He is practically the only family you have…"

Harry closed his eyes as he thought about what Voldemort had just said to him. It was all true, but it terrified him that Voldemort had been able to pinpoint all that about him so easily…

"That's not true anymore. He came to visit me when I was recovering in the hospital wing. I looked him in the eyes, and I lied to him just like I lied to everyone else…He'd probably hate me if he ever found out the truth…Everyone will hate me…"

Voldemort stroked a spot underneath his ear and then spoke,

"You have not committed any crimes…There is nothing to hate about you… You are a saint compared to me… I kill people, Harry… I take their lives because it feels good to me. Because something messed up and twisted in my mind makes it feel pleasurable to me… I enjoy it, and not only that, but the part of me where I should feel remorse, or guilt or self-loathing does not exist… I like you, Harry… I enjoy talking to you, and taking care of you, but do you know how many times I have thought about killing you?"

Harry leaned back and waited for Voldemort to tell him,

"Every day… And I know it would feel good. It is only because of the pattern, the allowance, and structure I have given my desires, that I have not gone through with it."

Harry met Voldemort's gaze and spoke,

"What happens when you conquer the magical world? What happens after you achieve everything you've ever wanted?"

For the first time Harry saw something akin to sadness in Voldemort's eyes. Voldemort pulled away his hand from his cheek and spoke,

"I have never contemplated that."

Harry blinked, shaking his head. He shouldn't feel any sympathy for Voldemort. He didn't feel sympathy for him, he repeated in his head, but the sadness in his expression made him momentarily speechless.

He looked at Voldemort's chin, then lifted his gaze to his eyes once again,

"What if you lose control someday and kill me?"

Voldemort laughed, the sombre look on his face vanishing, and he grinned warmly at him. He reached for his cheek, and Harry didn't flinch or move away. He let Voldemort touch him and didn't look away from his fond gaze. Voldemort brushed his fingers down from his forehead, closing his eyelids,

"I will never kill you… Now, sleep."

Harry didn't reopen his eyes. He stayed flat on his back as he felt Voldemort's burning heat on his side.