The cool linen on the hospital wing cot welcomed Harry as he sank gingerly beneath the top sheet. Every inch of his body ached, and changing into his pajamas had been a chore in itself. With some, somewhat embarrassing, help from Madam Pomfrey, he'd managed to slip on a pair of checkered trousers and remove his shirt, leaving his heavily bandaged torso exposed. The chill of the sheets was, admittedly, nice against his bare flesh.

Dumbledore had escorted Harry as far as the Hospital Wing door before excusing himself. The walk back had been filled with silence punctuated by the slap of hard shoe soles against the stone floor. Harry was grateful for the lack of conversation, however his head had become increasingly painful and tears had begun to cloud his vision. He was more than ready to surrender to what he hopped would be a blissful sleep.

Collapsing back into the fluffy pillow, he removed his glasses and sat them on the bedside table where his nightly potion usually awaited him. Tonight, however, the table was empty. The look of confusion must have been evident on his face because Madam Pomfrey answered his concern.

"No sleep aide tonight, I'm afraid," she said, bustling around the edge of the bed as she drew privacy curtains with a wave of her wand. "You'll be free to leave in a few days and we need to ween you off of them before then."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by a soft pat on his leg and a sympathetic smile. " I know it won't be easy on you, Harry; but it's necessary for you to learn to sleep on your own again. I'll be right at the end of the ward if you need me." She gave him another comforting pat before disappearing behind the curtain ring.

Closing his eyes tightly, Harry took several deep breaths to steady his nerve. He'd spent every night since his return in a dreamless sleep thanks to a potion he'd been taking. Now, without it he feared what gruesome scenes would be waiting for him when he drifted off. However, the pounding of his head was more than enough encouragement to brave the unknown of sleep.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he immediately knew something was wrong. He was lying on his back, staring up at an overcast sky. A full moon shone through a break in the clouds, casting an eery white light on the rest of his surroundings. Rolling to his side, the first thing he realized was the lack of pain across his previously broken body. It was as if he had miraculously healed in the course of a few seconds. Second, was how real everything else felt.

The dying grass beneath his hands, the cool September wind on his face, even the crisp smell of autumn leaves that clung to the wind was as real as if he'd been transported from his bed.

A voice, icy and soft, accompanied the breeze, causing Harry to scramble to his feet. "I am glad to see you can finally join me, Harry."

Voldemort was leaning against a nearby headstone, his arms crossed over his chest and a look of pure anger adorned his face. Peering past him, Harry immediately recognized the surrounding graveyard. Just a few feet away was the grave he'd been tied to while he watched those red eyes rise from the cauldron. Beneath his very feet was the spot Cedric had taken his last breath. A wave of emotions swept him into a panic as his knees threatened to buckle.

"H..h.. how," Harry's voice weakly tried to form a sentence around his heavy tongue.

With an impatient sigh, Voldemort pushed himself away from his rough stone seat and took a few approaching steps, long pale fingers tracing the tops of headstones along the way. "Just like before. I can use the connections between our minds to project any image I want to you. However," he paused here, a wicked smile crossing his this lips. "We are going to see just how real these visions are for you."

"What do you mean," Harry asked, his confusion overcoming his fear.

The Dark Lord let out a small laugh that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. " Oh we will get to that. But first you have something to explain." The man's eyebrows raised slightly as the burning anger returned to his red eyes. "Dumbledore was about to tell you everything he knows and speculates on the bond between you and I. Despite my order for you to listen, you fought me." The aggravation was palpable in every word that passed through Voldemort's clenched teeth.

"I didn't get any orders from you," Harry said, his own voice steady with defiance. The lie came so smoothly that he almost believed it himself, making the next part as easy as telling the truth. "I don't want to know why we have this connection. I just want it gone!" At some point he'd straightened up to full height, his shoulders squared. It was easier to stand his ground without the agonizing pain flaring across his back.

Before he could process what was happening, Voldemort had closed the gap and was grasping the front of his shirt. The thin blue fabric twisted tight in his fist. Setting his jaw, Harry retained his composure only through pure will. It's not real. It's not real!

"Do not lie to me," Voldemort spat, raising a hand back before bring it down across Harry's face. The sharp slap resonated around the still air, and sent a rush of fire across Harry's cheek. He felt himself being jerked upwards until the hot breath spoke directly into his ear. "Still think this isn't real?"

With a quick shove, Harry stumbled back a few steps, bringing his hands up to his throbbing skin. Eyes wide, he tried to understand how he could feel the pain if he was dreaming. His body was asleep in the hospital wing, but he'd felt that slap as if he were physically there.

Voldemort was standing before him, hands straightening the black suit vest as he regained his calm composition. "Look around, Harry," he said with a sweeping hand. "I control everything in this environment. Everything from what you see," The world around them began to change before Harry's eyes. The browning grass beneath his trainers wove together to form a cement floor. The graveyard scenery spun violently around them until it was only a blur before changing altogether into rough cellar walls. Harry recognized it as Malfoy manner immediately. How could he forget the place he'd spent all summer praying for death. "And even what you feel." An explosion of pain erupted across Harry's back as his previous injuries flared to life. Taking a sharp intake of breath, he felt his legs begin to shake as he fought to remain standing. However, just as quick as it had appeared, the pain dissipated.

"Now that you have an understanding of the situation, let me tell you what you are going to do," Voldemort continued. "Tomorrow you will go back to the Headmaster's office and tell him you are ready to listen."

Despite his pounding heart, Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore isn't going to tell me anything now. I've already told him I don't want to hear it." Harry was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. Part of him was done playing these games. He knew that whatever Voldemort did to him here had no effect on his actual body. "Besides I only agreed to get you that sword. You didn't say anything about spying. Do what you want to me in this imaginary world of yours but I won't do it." To his astonishment, Voldemort smiled.

Pacing behind him, Voldemort placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. His grip was firm but not painful as he kneaded the boy's muscles. "Have I told you how much I enjoy your stubbornness, Harry? At first it was frustrating to have someone defy me. Especially someone your age. However," the cool voice paused here, the grip tightening drastically. Harry could feel the fingernails digging deep into his collarbone and he fought to pull away. "Now I find it exhilarating when I break you." The taller man was leaning over him, his lips brushing Harry's ear. Cringing away, Harry could feel the chuckle rumble through Voldemort's chest before he whispered in his ear again. "I've got another little surprise for you. Open your eyes."

The pressure on his shoulders was released and the sound of footsteps told Harry that Voldemort had moved back in front of him. Taking a steadying breath, he reminded himself once more that this wasn't reality before opening his eyes. Standing before him was a red headed girl. She wore a warm smile on her soft face, but her blue eyes were vacant as if she were made of wax.

Mouth slightly agape, Harry stared in disbelief at the image before him. Voldemort had moved to stand behind Ginny, his hand clasped on either side of her arms.

"My my. Young Ginny sure has matured from that little eleven year old that poured her heart out to me," he said silkily, his hands trailing up to her thin shoulders.

A wave of sickness rolled in Harry's stomach as he clenched his teeth to keep the bile from escaping. "She's not real," he said firmly through his teeth.

Voldemort laughed softly. "Yes of course, but she's real here. Would it help if she had the right expressions?" At the words Ginny's face became tight with fear, her delicate hands clenching at her sides as she tilted her head away from Voldemort's touch. Her breathing had quickened and her chest rose and fell rapidly; her eyes searching Harry's for help.

"Alright you've made your point," Harry snarled. Whether fake or not, Harry couldn't stand watching Voldemort's hands on Ginny's body. Anger swirled with his fear as he watched her pleading eyes.

Voldemort ran one of his slender hands through her red hair, pulling it gently away and exposing her neck. Without braking eye contact with Harry, he leaned forward and placed his face close to the hollow of her throat. A soft whimper broke through Ginny's lips and Harry took an advancing step, unsure of his plans but ready to act.

A sharp look from those red eyes stopped him short. Voldemort took a deep inhale, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. "Flowers," he said in soft whisper. "She smells so delightful." His hand slid slowly from her shoulder, coming to rest at the bottom of her throat.

A tingling sensation spread over Harry's body and he quickly turned his head to the side; eyes clenched tight. She's not here. But even through his constant reminders, Harry could hear Ginny's soft sobs telling him otherwise.

"I'll go to Dumbledore tommorow," he managed, not daring to open his eyes.

"Look at me, Harry."

The boy pried his misty eyes open with some effort. Voldemort's hand was resting at the top of Ginny's heaving chest and a cruel smile pricked at the corner of his enemy's mouth. Harry's bottom lip was trembling in an effort to retain his pleas.

With a deep sigh, Voldemort let's his lips travel up Ginny's neck before stepping away from her. He approached Harry slowly, a hungry look in his eyes. Stopping with only a few inches between them, he brought a thumb up to touch Harry's quivering lip. "That's better," he said softly.

Quickly, Harry pulled back to escape that cool touch, but Voldemort grabbed his chin instead. "Next time maybe you will remember who is in charge here. Or maybe next time I'll get to know Ms. Weasley a little more intimately."

Harry swallowed the sick that had risen in his throat at the words.

"Now, you are going to return to Dumbledore's office tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes," Harry said shortly, trying to pull his head away, but Voldemort tightened his grip and jerked him back to face him.

"Yes what," he asked coolly, a smirk growing on his face.

Harry's nostrils flared, but behind Voldemort he could see Ginny still standing there, a blank expression on her face. Swallowing hard, Harry locked eyes with Voldemort again.

"Yes, sir," he said. Each word dripped with as much venom and sarcasm as he could muster.

Voldemort laughed an shrugged his shoulders. "I'll take what I can get for now."