III
Harry was lead to a room with no furnishings other than a bed covered only in a fitted sheet. There was one large window but the drapes were drawn, swamping the room in partial darkness. There was a bathroom in the back corner, and nothing else.
"Strip."
He turned around and regarded the wizard with narrowed eyes.
"Go on, be quick about it."
"I'd much rather not," he answered defiantly.
The Death Eater aimed his wand at Harry's chest. "You don't have a choice! You're to have nothing unless the Dark Lord says so. Now take everything off."
Hesitantly, he complied, hoping he wouldn't have to endure this treatment for long before Dumbledore came for him. That is, if anyone knew he was gone.
As his escort left with the garments, Harry couldn't help feeling relieved he didn't want anything else. As the door closed loudly, the room became nearly pitch black. Harry stumbled over to the window and tugged on the drapes. They wouldn't budge. He could feel the charge of some sort of charm and he tried again to no avail.
Harry backed away with a feeling of foreboding. Not even the light of day. How long did Riddle plan on keeping him locked in a dark room? Potter sat on the bed slowly, using one of the posts to guide him. The cotton sheet felt slightly rough against his bare skin. He kept telling himself it would be over soon. The headmaster would figure something out. Harry needed only to give him time.
2 days later......
Harry was beginning to have trouble ignoring his hunger. He hadn't eaten since the evening before his abduction and it was affecting his ability to stay awake. He lay on the bed, his eyes long since grown accustomed to the darkness. The first day he stayed awake the entire night. Between his stomach growling and the uneasiness caused by his surroundings, sleep was a bit much to hope for.
He could feel Riddle on the edge of his mind, but he all he could sense was the barrier blocking him. His body ached with hunger, though he'd drank from the tap a few times. By the time the door opened again he was barely even able to register the hand shaking his shoulder.
"Boy, wake up! You need to bathe before the Dark Lord will see you."
That voice....
"Professor....?"
"Up, Potter."
It was soon discovered that 'up' was no longer a capability and Harry was carried into the bathroom and lowered into the tub. Soon the shower was pelting his naked body with icy droplets. He managed to sit up. A wash rag fell into his lap, followed by a cake of soap, and he grabbed them, slowly recalling what he was supposed to do with them.
"Hurry up."
"Professor Snape?" He tried to peer into the taller man's face but the infamous mask was in place.
"Who else, potter," he remarked dryly.
"You have to get me out of here. Does Dumbled--"
"--Yes, and you aren't to go anywhere."
The rag and soap were momentarily forgotten.
"What? Why?
"The headmaster knows Riddle isn't planning to kill you.........and he'd doesn't want to risk the Order at such a fragile state." His voice dropped at the last part.
"Risk the Order? Has he gone insane!?"
"Dammit, keep your voice down! And keep washing, you don't have all day."
Snape looked around quickly as if expecting to be caught consorting. Harry slowly soaped the cloth and started to scrub himself weakly.
"Whose side are you on anyway?" the boy asked darkly after a few moments of quiet.
"That's none of your concern. You just worry about yourself, and we'll see how long you last. I always thought Albus was too easy on you," he began, pulling Harry out of the bath. "I warned him about what could happen. Now lets hope you aren't as thick as I've always assumed."
Harry thought to mumble something but kept it to himself as he concentrated on not collapsing on the way out. A bundle of clothing hit him in the face as he stood there in the aftermath of a drying charm that left his hair extra unruly and his skin tingling. He sluggishly pulled up the trousers and got the shirt over his head before trailing after the Professor.
"He's expecting you. You are to kneel and kiss the hem of his robes if he asks you to approach. Do something stupid, and no one will be able to save you."
Harry didn't catch every word but he got the gist. Did they really expect him to just give in to the murderer of his parents?
They arrived at the same pair of doors from his first day there and they opened by themselves. Harry braced himself for the worst.
Riddle was reading calmly in an armchair, picking from a bowl of fruit. He set it aside when they entered.
"Leave him, Severus."
Snape bowed and backed out of the room silently, leaving the two to their tense silence. Harry stood as stiffly as he could, but he refused to cower like a weakling, even if he was feeling every bit the weakling. Riddle turned a page of his book and pushed a shiny, red grape into his mouth. Harry's stomach lurched audibly.
A minute or so had gone by, and Harry couldn't keep his gaze from drifting back to the dish of fruit. Don't think about it. He's just trying to tempt you. Instead, he tried to read the title of the book Riddle was so absorbed in.
JU...JILL...no....JULIUS. JULIUS CAESAR.
Well, that had taken all of six or seven seconds and Riddle still wasn't paying him much attention.
"Is there something you wanted?" he asked with more gusto than he felt.
Finally Riddle put down the book. His eyes were cold.
"Crucio."
The instant pain wracked his body, Harry fell to his knees. His screams could have been someone else's for all he was aware. When it ended, the boy was gasping for breath and shaking badly.
"Now, come to me."
Taking a few more seconds to catch his breath, he crawled, not that he was capable of walking at the moment. The floor tilted back and forth like a rocking sail boat, and he had to take little pauses before getting there. When he reached the chair Riddle was occupying he waited for his vision to stop spinning before bringing the dark fabric ends to his lips...
...and vomiting on them.
The next thing he knew a boot had made contact with his ribcage, landing him sprawled backwards on the rug.
"...Filthy little--"
He was blasted with curse after curse before losing consciousness completely.
When Potter came to again he was back in his room on the bed. This time, however, his body ached for a reason other than hunger. Just how many spells had been endured Harry hadn't the slightest idea. But he did realize that if he didn't get food soon he wouldn't be able to stay awake on his on. Food had been withheld from him at the Dursleys' on occasion, but only for a day or so, and they'd never completely hexed him before doing so.
The one time I get a chance to spit at Voldemort's shoes, it wasn't on purpose...
Somehow Harry doubted just telling him that would be enough. But if he did something...some gesture of apology...that might surprise the Dark Lord into believing him. Harry was willing to try anything to get some sustenance into his body.
He reached out to the gentle red pulse of light. The barrier was still there but with soft pushes he felt something akin to acknowledgement meet his urges.
"..........Sir?" he tried, hating how weak he sounded to himself.
There was a dreadfully long pause.
"What is it, boy?"
"I.......didn't mean it...you know, with the robes. It wasn't on purpose." It came out sort of in a rush and Harry had to tell himself to relax.
"...And you're expecting something for this little......apology."
It wasn't a question, and Harry wasn't sure how to respond.
"Tell me, Potter, are you willing to do anything to sustain yourself?"
The connection wavered as Harry struggled to focus.
"...I.........yes..."
"Then come to me. You know the way." Harry barely noticed the last bit wasn't in English.
Riddle's presence receded, leaving Harry to follow the order. He pulled himself to his feet using the bed and stumbled in the general direction of the door. It opened of its own accord and Harry wondered how the man was casting and deactivating spells from rooms away. He glanced both ways down the hall surprised by the absence of guards. He could just run in the opposite direction, but he doubted he'd get very far.
Using the wall for support, Harry headed to the same room he'd last seen the Dark Lord in and waited for the door to open. This time, Riddle was waiting in the chair again, sans book. Another plate of edibles was beside him, including more grapes. He decided that if he was going to go through with this, he might as well do it correctly. Harry swallowed his pride - easy to do when he couldn't think straight. He knelt. Riddle beckoned. He crawled. When he got to the older wizard he raised the black hem to his lips and kissed it, letting it fall gently.
He waited.
"Yond, Harry, has a lean and hungry look....." Voldemort whispered in amusement. Harry kept his eyes on the floor.
Suddenly there were long, thin fingers tracing his jaw. He might have flinched had he the strength. But he knelt there allowing the bane of his existence to caress his face, his hair, his neck.... He hadn't realized he was leaning into it until Riddle pulled away. He plucked a grape from its bunch and pushed it against Harry's lips. There was a full second of stillness before Harry drew the little globe into his mouth.
Chewing was bliss.
When another was pressed to his lips he didn't even hesitate before consuming it. The third time he'd drawn a finger in briefly, but he didn't care. He was eating. Soon, a new fruit had been introduced (not that Harry completely noticed the change). It was some sort of melon, sliced long like a flat banana, that Harry attacked with his teeth. When it wasn't making it into his mouth fast enough, he leaned forward, trying to get all of it. Riddle pulled it away, and Harry must have made some noise of exasperation because the Dark Lord began to laugh.
"I'm not going to allow you to soil my robes again. Slow down," he instructed firmly.
He fed Harry the rest of it before handing the boy a handkerchief. The boy blushed realizing how sloppy he'd been. And a picture he must make - kneeling on the floor, breathless, with fruit bits dribbling down his chin.
He winced at the thought.
When he finished wiping his face he realized the Dark Lord was watching rather intently, as if evaluating him. Harry looked away, uncomfortable with the idea. Riddle didn't see Harry so much as a young adult as he did a magical being. Harry was flowing with power, a great bit of it unharnessed, and to a trained wizard Harry nearly glowed with it. Seeing him at his feet, cheeks flushed and breath quickened with the anticipation of getting food into his body, Riddle began to grow hard rather quickly.
"Look at me," he commanded, the words a series of short hisses to one who couldn't understand them.
Harry understood them, and he looked, wishing he hadn't. The lust he was interpreting made him shudder. What the hell had he done to be given such a look? It certainly wasn't to be expected from a wizard that had tried multiple times to take his life. His heart thudded in his chest at the possibility that Riddle may intend to act on that lust, and he'd be in no position to do anything about it. What was more, was that the older wizard's silence was easily a reason to worry. After all, if Harry learned nothing else about the Dark Lord in seventeen years, it was that he was nothing if not unpredictable.
Riddle sat back in his chair, snorting irreverently. "It's a wonder you accomplish any productive thinking with all of those stray thoughts swimming around."
It took Harry a moment to realize he was referring to whatever thoughts had just passed through his mind. Was Riddle planning to make a habit of frequenting his private thoughts?
"Now, tell me. What were you really thinking?"
Harry wasn't so sure what Riddle was talking about. There were no hidden thoughts, if that was what he'd meant.
"You're nervous. I can feel it from here, boy." He reached up to touch the side of the boy's face. Harry flinched as if to prove him right and hated himself for it. All of his talk of finally finishing Lord Voldemort off and here he was, scared as a rabbit.
Well, perhaps 'wary' was a better description. But he was powerless, nonetheless.
Those thin, carefully crafted fingers traced the outline of his earlobe only touching the tiny pale hairs that covered it. "But...why? This is your moment to pull off some daring trick and finish me off in some typically Griffyndor fashion. Why exactly is it that aren't you living up to your name, boy? Here I am." Fingers journeyed to the hair at the base of his skull, twirling lightly. While it seemed he was attempting to provoke Harry into some sort of action, his tone indicated that he expected no such thing,
And Harry did just that. Nothing, Nothing except realize Riddle was right and that he was obligated to do something. He was a Griffyndor, a direct descendent of Godric Griffyndor - his blood heir for goodness sake! He had every reason and justification to try something cunning and noble and daring...
...and absolutely foolish.
There was no way he'd be successful. He'd known the moment Riddle executed the Imperious curse that there was no way.
"I'll tell you, why." He tilted Harry's chin with one of those decidedly beautiful fingers and forced him to look up.
"I've won. It'd be completely fruitless to try anything at this point, and you know it."
"You haven't," he claimed defiantly.
"Oh? Tell me then, Potter. Where is Dumbledore? Or your precious Order, for that matter. Have they lifted a finger to save you, or are they off trying to preserve what remains of their so-called 'secret organization'?"
Harry was very poor at hiding his shock. Riddle took notice and allowed him to stew in the revelation that he knew of one of Dumbledore's best kept secrets.
"I'm sure this is all very disturbing for you, so I'm going to step out of character and be lenient. You'll have the night to think things over. In the morning, you be ready to serve in anyway I see fit. Do you understand?"
"---"
Riddle glared him down.
"...Yes."
"Good. Now go back. I trust you know the way."
Riddle gazed after Potter long after he'd closed the door. He'd surprised the boy with his little revelation, but then that had been his intention. Those foolish hopes had to be crushed or he'd never get through to the boy. Potter may have been young, but he certainly wasn't stupid. He'd never fully pledge himself to Riddle's keeping if there was still reason to believe help was coming. If the older wizard played his cards correctly, when help came, the boy would be more than willing to refuse it. Only after this first task would the boy truly be his.
The Dark Lord sensed the boy had a tremendous capacity for obedience given the proper motivation. The immediate problem was that the boy was too used to fighting for his right in the world. Riddle admitted he'd been largely responsible for the boy's defensive tendencies, considering he'd attempted to take the boy's life on numerous occasions. But as time passed, objectives changed, as did the viewpoints that spawned them. And suddenly, the idea of destroying this young well of power seemed nothing short of a waste.
Voldemort would be damned is he wasn't resourceful.
Besides, he knew what they were planning. He also knew that none of his men could be trusted. That was why he had no intention of letting any of them in on his intentions for the boy. He'd let them make their own assumptions. - plaything, sex slave...he'd leave them to it. But the boy was his....for other reasons.
That night Harry slept very little, so plagued were his thoughts by images of betrayal. Between the headmaster's refusal to help and Harry's mere consideration of the Dark Lord's words, he couldn't decide if he was the betrayed or the betrayer.
As far as Harry had seen, Riddle was currently the strongest he'd ever been...perhaps even stronger than he was during his last rein of terror. Was it truly worth going against such an unevenly matched opponent out of some decadent sense of duty as the heir of Griffyndor?
Harry turned onto his side, restlessly yearning for the ability to roam the deserted halls of Hogwarts under the concealing capabilities of his Invisibility cloak.
No, he decided. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth if there was any truth to what Snape had told him. It wasn't worth it if those who expected him to act in a way befitting his heritage were no where to be found. He'd do what he could to get through this. If the entire wizarding world disagreed with this decision, he didn't care. This was between himself and Riddle.