Part 4
Draco Malfoy's pale visage was fixed on a filthy mirror across the room, his face void of anything beyond a wild, internal sort of panic; grey eyes overly alert and alarmingly wide. Another time, the sight might have made Harry stop short, but his fury kept his wand arm steady as he pulled off his invisibility cloak, the heavy door banging shut behind him. The blonde jumped immediately and whirled around like a startled animal; wand trained on the other, automatically mirroring Harry's aggressive stance.
However, despite Malfoy's steady wand arm, the boy was a mess. His dark shirt was askew, odd buttons undone as it sat bedraggled against his chest – suit jacket nowhere to be seen. His hair was lank, sticking to his forehead where sweat was clearly pooling, and his chest heaved with unexpended adrenaline.
Harry took in the sight with a note of confusion and curiosity, the building questions threatening to shake some of the anger that had fuelled his way here.
Retaining his stiff posture, he watched the other boy, finding it odd that the clearly unstable Slytherin had yet to move against him, or begin his inevitable taunts. Something was amiss. Harry found it in himself to speak first, the words spitting from his mouth like acid.
"You knew," Harry bit out, his voice ricocheting off the ancient bathroom tiles, the slight echo surrounding Malfoy on all sides.
"Knew wh-"
"You knew!" Harry shouted, refusing to allow the boy to finish his retort, enraged at the pretence the other had been about to feign. "That he was planning on taking the Dursleys. Your sick goddamn note, Malfoy. I didn't get it at the time, but I do now, make no mistake."
If possible, Malfoy's face paled further, and Harry's eyes noted that the wand aimed at him was now shaking.
"I didn't even- it's not…"
Harry's eyes narrowed.
Malfoy seemed unable to get the words out, frustration building on his face, causing ugly blotches of red to build on his neck. There was a momentary pause.
"Merlin Potter, that doesn't matter at this point!" The blonde was shouting himself now, his wand arm down, whole body beginning to tremble. Harry's face melted into surprise for a moment, unable to understand the behaviour he was seeing.
"What do you mean?" he snapped, almost daring the other to name something more distasteful.
Malfoy spun around, actually turning his back on the green-eyed boy in favour of grabbing a slightly damp piece of parchment from behind him, laying in a small pool of water on one of the sinks.
Grasping it firmly in his fist, he turned back to Harry, approaching, waving it around as he stepped closer.
"I've been instructed to pass a message on to you, Potter."
The blonde's voice was uncharacteristically high, and the mad look was back in his eyes, but now that he was closer, Harry could see that something seemed rather desperate in the other's expression, his pinched face clearly uncomfortable with whatever he was about to say.
"What message?"
Despite the distraction that Malfoy was providing, Harry's gaze wandered down to the soggy letter, suddenly dreading its contents. He didn't want to know what was written there, that much he knew.
Malfoy opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, squeezing his eyes shut.
"The Dark Lord has instructed me to inform you that he has your aunt and uncle. They're still alive and will remain that way only if you come to him. Willingly."
Harry's heart stopped; his eyes now trained on the other in absolute horror. Hearing Malfoy address Voldemort as the Dark Lord was oddly chilling, not to mention how frightening it was that his school nemesis was under direct orders from him. He always supposed that Malfoy was under the command of his father or his Death Eater-connected family in general, but no, here he was admitting that he was doing Voldemort's direct bidding. And Voldemort's bidding was having Harry surrender himself for his relatives.
Silence reigned over the two of them, the dripping of water somewhere in a far corner the only disturbance.
Malfoy was watching him closely, his wand long forgotten. It was in that moment that Harry lowered his own and the Slytherin's wide eyes watched it fall to the boy's side, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion, a bead of sweat dropping between them and rolling down his face.
"There's no way he'll let them go," Harry finally said, his voice quieter than it had been, the building dread chasing away the anger. "Even if I do go to him. He'll kill them."
Malfoy said nothing for a long time, but when he did, his voice shook slightly.
"He said it's your choice. No one is to force you."
Harry couldn't find words. Nausea pooled inside him, mingling with the mounting fear he could feel agitating his heart. Was he really supposed to just hand himself over to Voldemort at the behest of Draco Malfoy? Suddenly the world of bad press and newspaper clippings seemed very far away.
"You're actually thinking about doing it."
Malfoy's tone pulled Harry from his own thoughts, and he found the boy staring at him, more controlled than he had been moments ago.
"Seriously, Potter? For those muggles, you'd actually…"
The sentence trailed off, as if the Slytherin realised what he had been saying.
Harry said nothing, but a moment later he jumped, and his wand shot out to focus on the boy in front as Malfoy let out an alarming, mocking laugh. Infuriated at first, Harry's face set into a look of pure loathing, however, it melted away when Malfoy flung the letter he had been clutching away from himself, allowing it to land on the grimy floor without a care.
"This is insane," the boy whispered, as if addressing both Harry and himself.
"You know, I thought I would be happy. I thought that when I finally won against you, everything would make sense." Malfoy seemed to be struggling with his next words. "But I don't want to be the fool to pass on these messages, I want no bloody part of any of it!" The weight of those words hit Harry like a tonne of bricks, and he gaped at Malfoy, fully aware that he had just watched the other admit a terrible, life-altering and dangerous secret.
The expression on Harry's face must have pulled the blonde back to reality as he froze a moment later, horror dawning in his face, as if realising what he had just said aloud – and knowing the consequences if it ever got back to his unforgiving master.
And despite all the years of animosity, the hate that had brought him here and the mistakes the Slytherin had yet to pay for, as soon as Harry saw him slipping, ready to hide from the truth he had just uttered, he jumped in.
"Me neither."
And with those two words, the world came crashing down on the two boys, their differences momentarily brushed aside in one single mutual understanding. They were both so ingrained in this war, in too deep and with no way out. And neither of them wanted to be there.
x
x
"You…" Malfoy trailed off, watching Harry with a guarded expression. But the words were clearly lost, as the blonde suddenly sighed and stumbled over to one of the sinks, collapsing against it, head dropping to his hands in exhaustion. It was very clear that Draco Malfoy simply didn't care anymore, something in him had shattered.
"I didn't know he was really going to take your relatives, Potter. It was talked about, but when I sent you that note, nothing had happened, I was just trying to scare you."
The words were so quiet, Harry almost missed them. He wanted to argue back, say that the details didn't matter. Malfoy had still sent it with malicious intentions, gleefully anticipating the hurt and damage it would cause. But what was the point?
"Like you said," Harry muttered. "It doesn't matter now. Voldemort has them. And now he wants me."
Malfoy flinched at the name, before running a hand through his limp hair. "And you're seriously thinking of going to him. Really, Saint Potter until the end?"
"I don't exactly have a choice, do I?"
Malfoy snorted, his tone taking on its familiar haughtiness. "That's exactly what you have. You said it yourself. He'll kill them anyway."
"Are you really trying to dissuade me from acting against the outcome he, your dad and Death Eater friends are no doubt hoping for?"
The words were like a slap to the face for the blonde and his mouth immediately tightened, eyes darting to the abandoned note.
"Won't your parents be furious?"
The mention of his parents had Malfoy's face positively gaunt and it was then that Harry truly understood something about the shaken boy standing in front of him. Despite everything he detested about Draco Malfoy, one thing was abundantly clear, the blonde was terrified, not of, but for his family.
"You're worried about what he'll do to them if you fail him."
Malfoy was now the one gaping at Harry, as if trying to work out how the dark-haired boy had made such a leap.
"But then why would you say anything tonight? Why not just lead me to Voldemort. It's a win-win for you, isn't it?"
Malfoy gathered himself and stepped away from the sink, shrugging his shoulders as if trying to chase away the trembles that tormented his body.
Steeling himself, he stood up straight and looked Harry dead in the eye, as if he had just made a daunting decision.
"I told you, Potter. I don't want anything to do with any of it. Not anymore."
A mad gamble rolled around in Harry's mind at the surety that had just possessed the boy in front of him and he lowered his wand completely.
"Okay."
x
x
I took a few moments for those words to sink into the atmosphere, striking a chord in both of them.
"Okay?" Malfoy spat, his face souring in confusion and annoyance. "What do you mean, okay? You cannot possibly just turn around and say that to me."
Harry shot him a look. How typical of the spoilt git to turn away the moment an olive branch was dangled in front of him.
"What do you want me to say, Malfoy?"
The blonde spluttered, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "You cannot possibly be that forgiving, Potter! Honestly, how you've survived this long is a mystery."
Frustration mounted in the Slytherin, unwilling to put up with Harry's accepting attitude, even despite the highly unusual situation.
Harry's eyes were sharp, however and he pinned the other with a stare. "I am not forgiving anything, Malfoy. Don't misunderstand me. Your dad, in particular, has a lot to answer for and I'm not just going to gloss over any of it. But right now, we're both in a stupidly awful situation and I'm willing to put things aside until this is all over. If we even make it out of this insanity, that is."
His words silenced Malfoy for a few moments and he watch the blonde process them carefully, the seconds ticking past until a jerky nod of his white hair signalled some sort of agreement.
"Okay," Malfoy breathed, purposefully choosing the vague wording Harry himself had opted for moments ago.
"So, what now?" the taller boy's voice had suddenly lowered, the frightened tone from earlier returning as the weight of their decision has just reformed around his shoulders.
Harry dragged a hand over his face and moved over to one of the walls, leaning against it tiredly.
"I don't know. I have to rescue my relatives though. Even if I do as Vol-"
Malfoy flinched again.
"…as he says, we both know he'll just kill them anyway."
"I still can't believe you would be willing to trade your life for those muggles," was the quiet mutter from across the room. Harry ignored it, almost afraid of dissecting that further, unsure why he himself had such a need to save them. He had no love for them, but they were still his only family. Merlin…
Malfoy's movement to lean against the far wall drew him out of these frightening thoughts and he watched with wonder as the other slid down and settled into a sitting position on the filthy floor, back to the hard wall. The Draco Malfoy he knew would never deign to sit on a bathroom floor. This simple action signalled the overwhelming changes that were happening that evening and Harry swallowed hard in his throat, anxious and unsettled. He could also feel the clock ticking, scrunching his eyes closed at the thought of what the Dursley's were going through at that very moment.
"Isn't this the part where you go running to Dumbledore?" Malfoy's serious tone held no mocking and it made Harry open his eyes and focus on the other boy.
"I… No, I can't. He already knows what happened." Despite Harry's belief that Malfoy's confession tonight was genuine, he refused to give the boy any information on Dumbledore or the Order. The risk wasn't worth it. He was fine with chancing his own skin by entering a momentary truce with the notorious Death Eater's son but he wouldn't allow anyone else to be involved, or give away anything that could be used against them later.
"And he's doing nothing?" Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised.
Harry glared at the insult to the headmaster, but he simply shrugged, keeping silent on the matter.
"Won't they be looking for an update from you?" Harry asked, diverting the subject line.
Malfoy's face dropped slightly and he gave a tight nod, like Harry, refusing to say anything further.
"Are your parents there? With him?"
Another nod.
"Would they leave if you asked them to?"
Malfoy looked completely taken aback by the question and he shivered. "I don't know. Maybe mother would…"
Harry immediately understood that Malfoy didn't know if his parents would abandon their cause for his sake. The thought made him oddly sad. But he knew he couldn't focus too much on the Malfoys.
"Look, tell him you gave me your message. Say nothing about any of this. I know you hate him but go talk to Dumbledore and see if he can help you. If you truly want out of the Death Eater circle, Malfoy, he will."
Malfoy's mouth was opening and closing like a fish, gaping at Harry has if he was a complete lunatic, not now raising any protests to the idea itself.
"Where are my relatives being held?"
Harry's straight tone didn't display the internal dread he could feel as he asked this question.
Malfoy swallowed and as soon as Harry saw the fear alight in his eyes, he knew. "Malfoy Manor," the blonde said quietly.
"Right, of course," Harry muttered. "Is there a way in there undetected?"
Malfoy looked as if he had just been slapped, perhaps realising his own betrayal of everything his family stood for.
"Potter, I'm not- I can't… If you go in there and just up and free your precious muggles, who do you think he's going to assume is the traitor who let their location slip?!" Malfoy's voice was slightly hysterical now, and he stood, panic starting to set in at the turnaround he had made this evening.
"I can't just let them die!" Harry bit out, frustration and pressure pumping through him.
Malfoy approached and Harry got to his feet, raising his wand. But Malfoy didn't reach for his own, he simply snatched the front of Harry's robes and pushed him into the wall. "And I won't let my parents die for them. You know he'll kill us all at even the suggestion that I helped you."
Harry pushed back, making the shaky blonde stumble slightly. He willed himself to calm down, understanding where Malfoy was coming from under all his own emotions.
"Look, I get it, alright? They're your parents."
Harry willed himself to brush aside all thought of who Lucius Malfoy was for a moment, trying to think of him first and foremost as Malfoy's father.
"Then don't ask me to choose. I said I wanted nothing to do with any of it. That includes your side, Potter. I want out completely. I'm not signing up for your cause either!"
Both boys were breathing heavily, eyeing each other with renewed distrust. Even with a truce, there would always be boundary lines they couldn't remove. Though Harry wondered why Malfoy had even told him that the Dursleys were at his home. He didn't voice this, fearful of making Malfoy retreat any more that he just had.
"Go talk to Dumbledore. Or, go home. Tell them all you delivered the message. Bow down to him, kiss his robes, do whatever it is you do to appease him. And then convince your parents to get out of there. Do it tonight, Malfoy. I'm not going to just sit here and let the Dursleys die because of me, one way or the other."
Malfoy was staring at Harry openly, his grey eyes scared. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly closed it, as if too fearful if his own questions. Though he knew himself he was one, knowing the full details of Harry's plan would undoubtedly make him an open traitor, and he would have no other avenue to take be that the case. But if he was unaware of the details, he could make it out alive, either way. With a slight jolt, Malfoy realised that the Gryffindor was giving him the option.
"Go, Malfoy. You had better do whatever it is you're going to do now. I won't wait."
And with a moment's hesitation, Malfoy turned, grabbed his wand and the moisture-soaked note and fled, leaving Harry standing there with his heart hammering in his chest, unsure himself of what he had just done.
x
x
Panic set in the moment the Slytherin bolted and he knew he had to act quickly. He understood that if he went to Dumbledore, the man wouldn't allow Harry to be involved in any plan of action. Considering his relatives were still imprisoned, whatever the headmaster was doing wasn't working. And knowing Voldemort's level of impatience, the clock had started ticking the second Malfoy had received that note. He had to act fast.
Grabbing his invisibility cloak, he threw it around himself and stepped out into the corridors.
He needed a way into Malfoy Manor. Undetected. He cursed the Malfoys for a moment, knowing that their ancestral home was likely to be guarded in all sorts of ways, particularly if the rumours about Lucius' dark artefacts held any truth, which after seeing him in Borgin and Burke's all those years ago, Harry was sure were true. He momentarily marvelled at how long ago that had been, back in his second year, just after he had been paid a visit by Dobby…
Harry's mind grinded to a halt and excitement sped up in his veins. Dobby.
Dobby must have been able to get in and out of the manor undetected if he was able to come see Harry without his master knowing. Could it really be so simple?
Swallowing hard, Harry turned in the opposite direction and flew toward the kitchens, uncaring of how loud his footsteps sounded in the din.
x
x
The hustle and bustle of the kitchens was as welcome as ever, and even in such straining circumstances, the delicious cooking smells grounded Harry for a moment, before he approached the nearest elf, who looked quite startled to see him and immediately began offering various dishes and delicacies, with several of his comrades joining in.
"Um, please. Maybe later, I'm just looking for Dobby. Could you tell me where he is?"
Several faces turned to immediate disapproval. One elf even shook his head,
"He is not here, Mr Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is away."
"Away?" Harry asked weakly, disappointment filling him.
"Dobby is taking his holidays. It isn't right sir, for a house elf to be travelling when there is-"
"Do you know where he's gone?"
The elves shook their heads in unison.
"We does not discuss it with Dobby."
Whatever the elf squeaked out next was lost on Harry as he closed his eyes, his plan falling apart in his mind's eye. If Dobby was travelling, surely there was no way to reach him. And time was really bearing down on him. Opening his green orbs, he looked around at the disapproving faces, knowing that none of the other well-meaning Hogwarts elves would take time out of their duties to help him. Biting his lip, he mourned Dobby's wild excitement and adventurous outlook.
But then it occurred to him. There might not be another elf who would help him willingly, but there was certainly one who could, even if he despised him for it.
As much as Harry had not wanted Kreacher, and he was sure the feeling was mutual, particularly after his betrayal last year, right now he seemed like a ray of (unpleasant) light. Would Kreacher be able to apparate within the Malfoy grounds though? Harry wasn't sure of the limitations of elf magic. Perhaps Dobby could only do so back then because he had belonged to the family.
Begging his leave, Harry turned and climbed back through the entrance, ignoring the multiple suggestions from a group of elves that he take some treacle tart to go.
Dodging into an empty classroom one floor up, Harry took a breath and called out to the reluctant house elf. "Er, Kreacher?"
It took a moment, but there was a crack and the elf was bowing before him, before turning his eyes upward and eyeing Harry with undisguised distaste.
"Master has called?"
The tone was almost mocking, his croak high and laced with venom, but Harry ignored it.
"Kreacher, I need to ask you something. But before I do, you are forbidden from telling anyone about this conversation, or anything else that is going to happen tonight. Do you understand?"
Harry refused to be even a little careless after last year. Though Dumbledore's words regarding Sirius' mistreatment of Kreacher rang true, Harry's grief couldn't allow himself to forgive the elf in front of him for his dealings with Bellatrix.
Kreacher grumbled a response, muttering something about blood traitors under his breath, which Harry endeavoured to ignore.
"Can you apparate in and out of Malfoy Manor?"
He could see that the question took the elf by surprise, before mistrust began to full his eyes.
"Yes," he hissed out. "Kreacher had been to the noble Malfoy's home many times in the days his beloved mistress was alive. My poor mistress…"
Harry's heart skipped a beat and excitement began to fill him. This was it. This was his chance.
"Then I need you to do something, Kreacher. And it's an order."
He got a hateful look in return.
"I need you to apparate me, in complete secrecy, into Malfoy Manor. Undetected. We need to find two people there without anyone finding out, and then bring them back here, safely. Can you do that?"
A reluctant 'yes' was tinged with a curiosity that Harry didn't like.
"Look, Kreacher. I know we don't get along, but just do this for me and I won't bother you again."
Now the small creature looked up at Harry, suspicion in his eyes. But something about the idea seemed to appeal to him and he gave another mocking bow. "As master wishes."
Unease settled over Harry then, watching the house elf. He didn't trust Kreacher to do this on his own.
"Does Malfoy Manor have a dungeon or cellar, Kreacher? That you know of."
"Yes, the noble Malfoys have many secret passages and rooms. Kreacher has seen them, long ago."
Chances are, with any luck, that's where Vernon and Petunia would be. Gripping his wand tight and draping his invisibility cloak around him once more, Harry nodded at Kreacher. "Let's go. And remember. Total secrecy."
The elf just gave him a look, reaching up to grab Harry's cloak for side-along apparition. Harry's eyes were on the classroom door, sparing a thought for Ron and Hermione, afraid and relived that they wouldn't be joining him this time. He just hoped he'd be back to them shortly and in one piece.
x
x
When Harry's feet met ground again, it was dark, the stone passageway barely lit by a far-off torch. Holding his breath, he desperately listened for any movement.
Nothing. It was silent.
Letting out a relieved sigh, he looked down at Kreacher, who had let go of him as soon as possible.
"Right. Stay out of sight but see if you can locate two prisoners. A man and a woman. The man is large, with a moustache. And the woman is really skinny, blonde hair. Can you do that? Come back as soon as you find something. I'll search nearby."
A terse nod and Kreacher was away, leaving Harry alone and a little more than terrified. Somewhere in the expanse of this house, Voldemort was waiting, impatiently. One slip up and Harry will have delivered himself on a silver platter.
Keeping the cloak firmly around him, he moved slowly, desperately afraid of making any sound. Maybe for once he could get in and out of a situation without any dramatics.
The corridor eventually let out into a larger space, with two heavy doors fitted into the walls. Cautiously opening one, Harry found a generously sized cellar room stacked full of dusty, aging wine bottles. Shaking his head, he closed it and tried the other, finding himself in another, broader passageway. This one was more well-lit, but mercifully empty. He supposed with a house this large and so well protected, the chances of people scurrying through the underbelly of its rooms were slim. But surely somewhere down here was a dungeon or holding room of some sort. That is, unless Voldemort had his relatives upstairs, with him. Maybe under the Cruciatus curse, as Harry explored unimportant cellar space. The thought turned his stomach, but he moved forward, hoping, praying that wasn't the case.
Five minutes went by and Harry met no one, nor saw anything of importance. He was just about to try another door, his hand warily on the iron handle, when Kreacher cracked into existence beside him, scaring him half to death.
"Kreacher!"
"The fat man and skinny woman. Kreacher has seen them."
"You did? Where?! Can you get them out?"
Though the elf looked as if this was a major inconvenience, he agreed that he could.
"Are they being guarded?"
Harry's heart sank at the nod. "Kreacher has seen two robed men outside the room, but none inside."
"Can they see inside or is there a door?"
"A large door."
Harry's mind raced. Right, that meant that if they were quick and silent, Kreacher could be in and out with Vernon and Petunia before the Death Eaters had a chance to notice, let alone react. They might just make it.
Whispering the plan to the elf in super hushed tones, Harry grabbed a hold of the his ragged clothing. "I need to come with you. These two people… they've never seen a house elf before, they might freak and alert the entire house."
Malicious whispering followed and Harry knew that Kreacher had guessed that those they were rescuing were more than a little non-magical.
"I don't want to hear any more about what your mistress would have said, Kreacher. We need to move. Now. Before anything changes."
Though it wasn't a direct order, Harry blinked as the scenery changed and he found himself in a holding cell, invisibly facing his bedraggled and bloodied aunt and uncle as they both gaped in horror at Kreacher. Throwing off his cloak, Harry whispered a silencing spell just before Petunia let out a scream. Harry's sudden appearance had her eyes bulging and Harry was horrified to see how bruised her face was.
Vernon's default rage was nowhere to be seen. They both looked too frightened and even in his silenced state, he didn't try to utter a word.
"I'm getting you out of here," Harry whispered. "Understand? We have to stay quiet. Kreacher here will take you back to Hogwarts, you just need to hold onto him."
It was testament to what the two muggles must have gone through that they immediately followed Harry's orders, their faces passive, sitting up from their position together against the stone wall.
Harry motioned to Kreacher and the elf approached them, disgust written into his expression. Petunia didn't even flinch when the elf grabbed a fistful of the side of her cardigan, which made Harry's stomach drop in thought of how traumatised the woman must be to ignore her deep-rooted OCD and distrust of magical anything.
Casting one last fearful look at the closed door, Harry approached the trio, reaching out to clutch onto Kreacher. Just before he could take hold of the elf's bony shoulder, his forehead exploded with excruciating pain and he couldn't help the yell of raw agony that burst from his mouth.
He felt himself falling to his knees, grabbing at his head. Just through the haze, he experienced a delirious bolt of triumph and he knew that Voldemort was onto him.
The door burst open and he desperately threw himself toward Kreacher, who was actually looking at him in something akin to alarm. But he found himself thrown backward, slamming into the far stone wall with a sickening crack. Dizziness filled his head, but he could make out the pale faces of the Dursleys gawping at him in horror and he shouted, ordered, Kreacher to leave with them.
In a split second, they were gone, and Harry was alone, the room swimming in front of him. He could feel blood pooling in his mouth where he had bit his tongue, the metallic taste vile. Trying to steady himself, he reached out, hand scrabbling for his fallen wand. A jolt of relief flew threw him when his fingers touched the handle, but it was short lived, as a shot of red light hit him straight in the chest, and he fell into darkness.
x
x
The first thing he noted as he came to was the heat, the rising temperature jolting him back to reality and flooding him with memories of what had transpired. His horrified gasp was muffled by the heavy cloth that filled his mouth and a quick pull at his wrists informed him that they were bound behind him, fixed to the carved wood of the handsome chair he was sitting in.
"I had expected you to play by the rules, Harry. I don't know whether to be disappointed or impressed."
Harry started at the soft, snake-like tone, the jerky movement making his head throb, but his frightened eyes immediately found the face of Lord Voldemort, fear hammering in his heart as green met those scarlet eyes. Eyes he had hoped to avoid this night.
Voldemort was standing in front of an obscenely large fireplace, the roaring flames filling the intimate drawing room with flickering light. They were alone.
"But it's of no real consequence. They served their purpose in bringing you to me. Killing muggles is of little matter."
Harry was immediately reminded of the Tom Riddle he had met in the Chamber of Secrets and he shivered.
Voldemort glided across the room, his pale hand reaching out and gently taking a hold of the younger man's jaw. Harry's forehead was on fire, despite the cold, reptilian feel of the man's skin. He tilted Harry's head all the way up, forcing him to look directly at him.
"You are far more important. And I mean to make an example of you. Never again will people question your power, or mine. That discussion ends tonight."
A cruel smile tugged at the corner of the dark wizard's thin lips as he noted the terror in Harry's eyes. However, it fell when he stepped away, freeing Harry from his chilling grip.
"I was most intrigued when my followers told me of the Daily Prophet and their findings about you." His tone was casual and light, almost amused. "Whoever would have known that so important a boy would be left to such a disappointing family? We really aren't so different, are we Harry?"
Harry shook his head slightly, refusing to acknowledge the poisonous words with raw silence.
Voldemort laughed, the sound more threatening than a hiss. "We are both half-bloods, with great lineage on one side and pitiful relations on the other. Left to the inept care of muggles at a young age and both risen to fame unequalled in the wizarding world – though your fame is a direct consequence of my own, of course."
Silence reigned for several moments as Voldemort turned away and stood facing the fire, his silhouette outlined in flames. The quiet only instilled a rising dread in Harry and he unconsciously tugged at his bonds, panic creeping into his bones.
"The two Death Eaters that guarded your aunt and uncle are dead now."
The words brought Harry to a halt and he ceased his struggle, looking up at Voldemort with wide eyes. Pain resurfaced in his head, tinged with an anger that was not his own.
"It is lucky that their Lord is observant, or you might have escaped me completely, Harry. What a shame that would be. However, my mercy can only extend so far. I do not forgive carelessness. Or betrayal."
The tension in the room was building and Harry dreaded where this line of conversation was leading.
"It seems that none of my loyal followers have seen Draco, Narcissa or Lucius Malfoy since I passed my orders to young Draco earlier today. Now, why would that be?"
Harry swallowed thickly, his mouth dry, teeth clenching around the thick fabric.
"Have they deserted their master and cause? Or is it simply a misunderstanding?" The gleam in Voldemort's eyes as he turned left no doubt as to which the monster believed it to be.
He crossed the room once more and looped a bony finger around the gag suffocating Harry's mouth, pulling it down and freeing his lips.
"Malfoy is too much of a coward to do that," Harry said, his words hoarse but rather convincing. However, his attempt only earned a mocking smile. He desperately tried to avoid the red eyes, frightened of how easily they would see into his mind.
"Is he? I understand both yourself and young Draco have never seen eye to eye."
Harry said nothing.
"Come now, Harry. Speak to me. The longer you talk, the longer you live."
Those words had Harry's full attention, once again eerily echoing the Tom Riddle of the diary. However, he recognised the truth in them and decided it was worth buying himself more time. Perhaps Kreacher would return? That felt like a rather sad hope.
"You- you've said something like that to me before."
Now the snake-like face took on a twisted curiosity and he regarded Harry with interest. "Have I?"
"When To- when the younger version of yourself came out of the diary in my second year. He said that to me." Harry desperately tried to swallow his nerves as he talked.
Voldemort's smile was now terrifying. He started to circle Harry slowly. "Yes, I would imagine he was quite curious about you. Curiosity can be a distraction."
A log in the fire fell and a rush of sparks flew up from the flames, drawing Harry's eye. In this moment, he missed the subtle movement of Voldemort's wand, screaming in agony before he even realised what had happened. Thrashing in the chair, Harry felt as if thousands of knives were piercing his body, his mind lost in the pain, uncomprehending until finally, what seemed like an eternity later, he was released from the torture curse, left hanging in his bonds, weak and breath laboured.
"You are no longer a curiosity to me, Potter." The softness of tone was gone, as was the use of his given name and mocking smile. Voldemort's expression was set, his eyes bold and alive with malice.
Harry found himself screaming in pain again moments later, held under until the other wizard saw fit to release him.
"I have no doubt of the reason Draco fled. I marvel at the lack of strength wizards possess. He is a fool. His parents are fools. They will understand what it means to betray me soon enough, but right now, you need to understand what it means to oppose me. I have been lenient in the past with you. Too many mistakes, I can admit it. But no more."
Harry's exhausted frame had his head hanging down, chin resting against his chest, eyes scrunched tight.
"I do hope it was worth it, Harry? Freeing those muggles you deem worthy of your attention. Your choices have led you here, to me. This is your doing, remember that."
"No," Harry murmured, voice weak.
Voldemort continued, as if Harry hadn't spoken at all, and green eyes widened with unbridled fear as a delicate, spider-like hand pointed its wand directly at him, carefully, as if savouring the moment.
"Your choices have led you to death, Harry. There will be no more diversions, I am quite through with you. At least you can take pride in the fact that it was Lord Voldemort who brought you to your knees."
The words were alarmingly final and Harry knew what was about to happen just before the words were uttered. Shutting his eyes, he turned his head slightly, fear making his body betray him and cringe away from the death that awaited him. He thought of his friends, Sirius, Remus, hell, even the Dursleys. Would his relatives even mourn him? Perhaps, Dudley might?
As if it were from very far away, he heard the first word of the curse and felt the beginnings of a spell form less than a metre from him, a different heat than the one from the fire. Almost willing it to go faster, he took what he thought would be his last breath, the air trapped in his lungs for eternity, waiting in gut-wrenching dread for his end.