Two: A Change of Scenery
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and some corporations. Blah, blah, blah. C'mon, people I'm sure you know the drill by now. It still applies.
A/N: [] indicates thought. Still. By the way, I'm plugging, go to and read my fics there, penname is Aleena Malfoy. ::Smiles innocently, nobody buys it::
Lord Voldemort pulled Harry to his feet and led him down a corridor to a bedroom.
"You may sleep here," he said, flicking his wand at the candles, "I trust you will be comfortable enough."
Harry nodded, "Thank you, I'm sure it will be fine."
Voldemort left. Harry sat down on the bed and looked around. The room was large and spacious, the carpet was soft and dark green, the furniture was mahogany, there were black silk sheets on the bed, and candles hovered in the corners, casting eerie shadows on everything. Tilting his head back, Harry gazed up at the high vaulted ceiling, momentarily watching the play of shadows and light there.
[Shadows of light, shadows of light, shades of gray and shadows of light.] Harry thought whimsically.
There was a chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling, a huge, silver chandelier. A huge, unlit, silver chandelier.
[How decadent. What on earth could posses someone to put in a massive silver chandelier and then not use it? It's absurd. It is impressive, though, decadent, but impressive. I suppose, if you've nothing better to do with your money, things like that are fine. This place is beautiful, though, simply beautiful. I can just imagine the looks on the Dursleys' faces if they saw where I am now.]
He chuckled at the picture his imagination supplied and flopped back onto the velvet comforter, sighing contentedly. If this wasn't what heaven was like, he didn't know what was.
[I like it here, of course, I've only been here for a few hours, but it's nice, I feel as though I've finally come home. And I like the décor; it suits the overall mood of this place. Speaking of which, where is this? Hmm, I'll have to ask Tom when I see him next. Oh, I'm already calling him "Tom", am I? This is pathetic; next thing I know, I'll be head over heels in love with the man. He is really good looking, though, and could be likeable if he tried. Okay, stopping now, this is not a good train of thought to follow.]
Harry shook his head; it was not necessarily a good thing when your thoughts refused to listen to your sense of reason. Although, all things considered, Harry's sense of reason was somewhat lacking, to put it mildly.
[Okay, so I find the man attractive, it's partially the power, I think. I'm beginning to develop a taste for power. Which is not always a good thing, power is like some sort of drug; it's hard to live without after a while. And I'm becoming addicted to it. Charming, absolutely bloody charming. I think I'm losing my mind. But I don't think that matters anymore.]
Harry shook his head, got up, and went through the wardrobe in search of some pajamas or something. He found a green nightshirt and, with a diffident shrug, donned it.
Climbing into the massive bed, Harry fell into an easy sleep, feeling, for the first time, that he was where he truly belonged.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and some corporations. Blah, blah, blah. C'mon, people I'm sure you know the drill by now. It still applies.
A/N: [] indicates thought. Still. By the way, I'm plugging, go to and read my fics there, penname is Aleena Malfoy. ::Smiles innocently, nobody buys it::
Lord Voldemort pulled Harry to his feet and led him down a corridor to a bedroom.
"You may sleep here," he said, flicking his wand at the candles, "I trust you will be comfortable enough."
Harry nodded, "Thank you, I'm sure it will be fine."
Voldemort left. Harry sat down on the bed and looked around. The room was large and spacious, the carpet was soft and dark green, the furniture was mahogany, there were black silk sheets on the bed, and candles hovered in the corners, casting eerie shadows on everything. Tilting his head back, Harry gazed up at the high vaulted ceiling, momentarily watching the play of shadows and light there.
[Shadows of light, shadows of light, shades of gray and shadows of light.] Harry thought whimsically.
There was a chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling, a huge, silver chandelier. A huge, unlit, silver chandelier.
[How decadent. What on earth could posses someone to put in a massive silver chandelier and then not use it? It's absurd. It is impressive, though, decadent, but impressive. I suppose, if you've nothing better to do with your money, things like that are fine. This place is beautiful, though, simply beautiful. I can just imagine the looks on the Dursleys' faces if they saw where I am now.]
He chuckled at the picture his imagination supplied and flopped back onto the velvet comforter, sighing contentedly. If this wasn't what heaven was like, he didn't know what was.
[I like it here, of course, I've only been here for a few hours, but it's nice, I feel as though I've finally come home. And I like the décor; it suits the overall mood of this place. Speaking of which, where is this? Hmm, I'll have to ask Tom when I see him next. Oh, I'm already calling him "Tom", am I? This is pathetic; next thing I know, I'll be head over heels in love with the man. He is really good looking, though, and could be likeable if he tried. Okay, stopping now, this is not a good train of thought to follow.]
Harry shook his head; it was not necessarily a good thing when your thoughts refused to listen to your sense of reason. Although, all things considered, Harry's sense of reason was somewhat lacking, to put it mildly.
[Okay, so I find the man attractive, it's partially the power, I think. I'm beginning to develop a taste for power. Which is not always a good thing, power is like some sort of drug; it's hard to live without after a while. And I'm becoming addicted to it. Charming, absolutely bloody charming. I think I'm losing my mind. But I don't think that matters anymore.]
Harry shook his head, got up, and went through the wardrobe in search of some pajamas or something. He found a green nightshirt and, with a diffident shrug, donned it.
Climbing into the massive bed, Harry fell into an easy sleep, feeling, for the first time, that he was where he truly belonged.