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"Potter," said the Dark Lord calmly.

"Voldemort," said Harry in return, his tone of voice neutral. It was...kind of strange to be looking into those red eyes when they weren't filled with fury.

Voldemort stepped a bit further into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. A bit sore." The two mortal enemies merely regarded one another in silence for a moment, before Harry finally spoke again. "The Dursleys?"

"Your relatives? In the dungeons."

Harry nodded curtly. "Is someone supposed to check me over?"

"Yes."

"Are they already here?"

"They are."

Whether the entrance had been timed or not, Harry didn't know, but barely seconds later both Snape and Mrs Malfoy entered the room, pausing when they saw that Harry was awake. It was the woman who moved first though, approaching Harry, an air of professionalism around her.

"Any pain?" she asked him.

"Mainly my head."

"Throbbing? Stabbing? Stinging?"

"Alternating between stabbing and throbbing."

Nodding, Mrs Malfoy got to work, keeping her voice controlled and soft when she spoke to him, and making sure she told him everything she was going to do to him before she actually did it, as if she was worried about frightening him. Or perhaps she was just afraid of angering the Dark Lord. Harry wasn't really sure, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Snape on the other hand, didn't say a single word. He worked together with Mrs Malfoy, handing her potion vials, but it was the woman who explained to Harry what each potion was called and what it was meant to do. Harry himself remained mostly silent too, only speaking to ask or answer questions as he did as he was told, his eyes occasionally flickering over to Voldemort, who was standing a few feet away, watching the proceedings intently but without comment.

Eventually, Mrs Malfoy and Snape finished their healing and checking of Harry, and they bowed to Voldemort before leaving the room, Snape glancing back at Harry with an expression on his face that no one could discern.

Left alone again, Harry and Voldemort resumed staring at one another in silence, as they had been doing earlier, appraising one another. And as they did this, Nagini slithered up onto the bed, and rose up until she was eye to eye with Harry. He got the feeling that she was appraising him just as much as Voldemort was.

"You need to feed him, Master. The hatchling needs some fattening up. He does not smell healthy."

Voldemort didn't actually get the chance to answer though, because Harry did so himself instead. "Thank you for the concern, Nagini, but I'm not hungry right now."

Eyes widening, Voldemort took a step forward. "You are a Parselmouth, Potter?"

Harry raised a brow. "Obviously. Didn't you know?"

"I did not, no. Have you always been one?"

"As far as I can remember, yes."

"I see..."

Harry wasn't sure why the contemplative expression that appeared on Voldemort's face was slightly worrying, but silence reigned yet again, this one surprisingly a little less awkward.

"You are not hungry?" Voldemort asked eventually.

Harry hesitated, then decided that it didn't matter anymore. Since Voldemort had been the one to find him and have him healed, he probably already knew everything anyway. "I'm so hungry that I'm not hungry anymore," he said with a half shrug. "Um, is there any chance I can grab a bath or a shower or something though?"

Voldemort inclined his head, and pointed at the other door in the room. "Through there. You may use whatever you see."

"Thanks." But when the Dark Lord made no move to leave the room, Harry shrugged mentally, gently removed Nagini from his lap, and slid out of the bed, not bothering to care about his nude state. Voldemort had already seen everything, and they were both guys anyway. It was fine.

Walking past Voldemort, he entered the surprisingly large bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he peered around curiously, before shrugging and starting the bath. Still feeling a little sore, he soaked in the hot water for a while, hoping it would ease the pain a little, thinking.

He...wasn't really sure how to feel about everything that had happened. Yes, he had been the one to send Voldemort the letter, which had then clued the Dark Lord in on what was going on, but Harry certainly hadn't asked to be recused or helped or anything. In fact, the only reason he had even written that letter in the first place was because he had planned on being dead by the time Voldemort bothered showing up at Number Four.

And now that he was here in Voldemort's home (Headquarters? Lair? Cave of Doom?) he wasn't sure how to feel. Then again, actually still being alive was probably adding to that, he had to admit to himself.

That led to another thing, he realized. Voldemort himself had saved him, locked up the Dursleys, kept them all alive, and had him healed. Why? What was the point? Why do that? Weren't they enemies? While it was true that Harry had stated in the letter that he was no longer on the Light's side, he certainly wasn't planning on being on the Dark's either. Being alive wasn't about to change that. If he was stuck living, then he wanted absolutely no part in this war.

But...considering who he was, that probably wasn't really an option for him, was it? He wasn't sure if Dumbledore knew about what had happened yet-that Harry was no longer in Privet Drive, but once he did, surely he was going to try to drag Harry back to the good side, right? And what about Voldemort? Was he going to try to entice him into joining him instead? Or was he simply going to bide his time until he killed him?

It was hard to tell. If he was going to kill him, why have him healed? Why not just finish him off when he'd found him at Number Four? Harry had been standing at Death's doorstep at the time anyway, and would hardly have been able to fight back. Nor would he have tried to, honestly.

Harry sighed, dragging his wet fingers through his hair, wishing Sirius was here for him to talk to. He always helped him sort these things out. ...Then again, maybe that wouldn't be the best idea. Certain things had to be kept secret, after all.

He frowned, staring unseeingly into the water. Perhaps he could use what had happened as an advantage. Sure that all Voldemort had done in Privet Drive was grab him and the Dursleys, the Order would likely come to that very same conclusion-that they had all been kidnapped. Maybe they would even think them all dead.

They would struggle to learn of the truth, and possibly try to locate him, without success, he was sure. Though, that would definitely depend on whether Snape would tell them anything, what with him being a spy and all. Still, it was only mid July, which left him with nearly the entire summer break.

If Voldemort didn't kill him in that time, then perhaps they could come to an agreement of some sort, and he would be able to put certain plans helped hatched out by select trusted people, into motion.

Then he could return to Hogwarts in September, and simply pretend he had spent the break with a Muggle friend. After all, his godfather had just died, and he had learned of a horrible prophecy that pitted him against the Dark Lord, and, on top of all that, he was a teenager. And what did teens tend to do when upset in any way? Rebel, of course. Meaning leaving Privet Drive to stay with a 'friend', while disappointing, surely wouldn't be shocking. Or at least, it shouldn't be.

Then again, most of these rules didn't seem to apply to him for some stupid reason, so perhaps it wouldn't matter at all. But even then, what was the worst Dumbledore could do? Give him detention? Speak to him in that irritating voice that was supposed to make him feel like a toddler caught with his hand in a cookie jar? Give him that look meaning the same thing? None of that would change anything.

Either way, Harry decided he needed to speak to Voldemort. Nodding to himself, he reached for the soap and began to clean himself off...

When he stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, he found that Voldemort was gone. Not at all surprised, Harry moved to his trunk that sat on the floor next to the wooden wardrobe, and pulled out his newest set of Muggle clothes, bought just a few weeks ago in secret.

He yanked on a pair of boxers (that, thank Merlin, belonged to him and not his cousin) and dark jeans, then pulled on an equally dark tee, socks, and then his trainers. Though nothing in his trunk appeared disturbed, he wasn't able to find his wand. A search of the room came up empty as well. He hadn't expected otherwise.

It wasn't until he moved to the bed that Harry realized he wasn't as alone as he had thought he was. Nagini lay among the sheets. She was still, sleeping maybe? It was hard to tell, since snakes couldn't close their eyes or anything.

Sure she wasn't planning on hurting him, Harry climbed onto the bed himself, and ran a hand down her surprisingly smooth scales. He'd always had a fascination with snakes, though he'd never been able to touch one before, for obvious reasons.

Nagini released a soft hiss, before slithering around to face him and raising herself up to look at him. Tongue coming out, she hissed again. "You smell clean now, hatchling."

Unable to help himself, Harry smiled slightly. "I took a bath."

"Good. You still need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

Nagini made a sound then, a strange hiss that, oddly enough, sounded disapproving. "That's not good, little hatchling. You need food to grow big and strong like my master."

Amused at how the snake sounded rather like how he assumed a mother would, Harry laughed lightly. "I don't think I'll ever manage to become like him, but I understand. Maybe I'll ask for an apple or something."

Nagini gave what must have been a shrug, and a sigh, though neither of those should have been possible, increasing Harry's amusement, while he wondered why he liked her so much. "Nagini, do you think you could get Voldemort for me? I'd like to speak to him."

The snake looked at him almost curiously, before saying, "Master is conducting a meeting, but I will tell him."

"Thank you." He watched her lower herself off the bed and slither to the door, which opened immediately before shutting the moment she was outside. Out of curiosity, Harry slid off the bed and padded to the door himself. It didn't open automatically. He reached and tried the handle, finding the door was locked. It must have been spelled to only open for Nagini then.

Returning to the bed, Harry sat down to wait...

Voldemort, seated on his throne, was in the middle of finishing the meeting that had been interrupted the other day when Potter's owl had decided to invade.

He was just about to dismiss everyone when he noticed Nagini slither into the room. What was she doing? He had instructed her to remain with the boy. "Nagini, has something happened?" he asked, ignoring the way many of the Death Eaters had stiffened at the sound of Parseltongue.

"The hatchling wishes to speak to you. And he wants an apple because I am making him eat."

Slightly amused with the latter statement, because Nagini often did the same to him, Voldemort was more curious about the former. "Is that so? Did he say what about?"

"No. But he is calm and clean now."

"I see." He turned back to the Death Eaters, all of who were standing around somewhat awkwardly. "Dismissed."

They all but fled.

"Tippy."

A house-elf with large, floppy ears, popped into the room silently. He bowed, then said, "Yes, Master?"

"I require an apple."

Nodding, Tippy popped away, before reappearing, a shiny red apple in hand. "A fresh apple for yous, Master."

Taking the fruit, Voldemort nodded and watched the elf vanish, before getting to his feet. "Come, Nagini. Let us see what the boy wishes to discuss." And with his familiar slithering along at his heels, the two made their way through the large manor...

That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!