Harry kept Voldemort in the cell for the next month. He visited a lot during the four weeks, but always under the invisibility cloak. Isolation, combined with pain was always a good strategy when it came to breaking someone.

The boredom of having nothing to do day in and day out would wreak havoc on the mind as there was nothing to stimulate it. In the absence of anything the mind would turn on itself. Voldemort had thought spent 13 years as a wraith, so he was well used to being alone. That experience was probably the only reason why Voldemort was still as coherent as he was after 2 ½ year. Anyone else would have broken by now.

The first days after Harry had revealed just what kind of magic that was behind the wards and the cuffs, Voldemort had simply stayed still. Harry assumed that had much to do with the pain in his feet. The man spent most of the time looking out into thin air with a frown on his face. Sometimes moved his hands or shifted his position. Every now and then he would lay down and doze off, sometimes waking by his own screams. Apparently, the man had nightmares. Harry assumed they were nothing new to the man, even if he had never noticed them before. Then again, when had he last spent time just studying Voldemort when he was sleeping?

Food appeared every day as usual for the cell, and a cleaning charm ran through the room not long after. The first day after Harry had left Voldemort had stared at the bowl by the wards, but he had made no move to get it. Either he wasn't hungry, or it hurt too much to move. Harry was pretty sure it hurt too much to move. He changed the charm so that the bowl would be delivered beside Voldemort wherever he was in the cell.

The food was gone the second day when he arrived, still staying under the cloak. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to check in on the man every day. He had left the man for several months at a time before without thinking twice about it. Perhaps it was the memory of finding Voldemort half dead after the punishment earlier that year. He knew logically that there were not wounds that could be infected this time. He had healed them. The pain remained as the pain was connected to muscle memory and the bruises that Harry had not healed.

The bowl of water was also empty. Harry frowned. How often did the water bowl fill up? Surprised at his own concern his frown increased. He was not getting attached to his pet now, was he?

He leaned against the wall behind him and slide down to the floor. In the cell Voldemort's head came up as if he had sensed his presence, but after a while he seemed to dismiss whatever he had been thinking about because he curled up on the floor, pulling the blue blanket around himself. He was shivering, Harry noted. Twisting his hand, he wordless cast the spell to check the temperature in the cell. It was cold and Voldemort was only dressed in a pair of trousers. The shirt hand been destroyed by the whip. As tempting as it was to raise the temperature in the cell, he didn't. This was meant to be a punishment. The whole point was to encourage Voldemort to behave in order to be allowed to stay upstairs, and that meant that the cell had to be about punishment.

######

Voldemort blinked a couple of times before he seemed to realise that Harry had entered. Something skittered across his face too fast for Harry to decipher before he dropped his eyes and pulled the blue blanket closer around himself. It was a cold evening and Voldemort was shivering.

Harry stepped closer. "Am I correct in assuming that you are not going to try that again, pet?"

Voldemort pursed his lips and didn't look like he wanted to agree to never trying to escape again. Harry sighed. He crouched down. "You have been fighting the bracelets and the wards again," he said, his voice softer than planned as he reached out and taking Voldemort's left hand that had some nasty burns on them. Moving his hand over them he healed the burns, not bothering to reach for his wand now that Voldemort knew the truth. Looking up he saw curiosity in the brown eyes.

"The wands alliance did not require murder to change. It was simply enough that one disarmed its master. You thought Snap was the master of the wand when you killed him, but at that time the wand's alliance was already with me. The resurrection stone was actually the stone in the Gaunt ring and the cloak I got from my father. These," Harry gestured to the wards and the bracelets, "are made with help from Death himself as a favour to his master. He really wanted to get his hands on you though, the one who had cheated him so many times. He is not at all happy with this arrangement."

Real, pure fear shone through Voldemort's efforts not to react. Death. The one thing Voldemort feared more than anything.

"Yes," Harry continued. " But, he will respect it as long as I say so. You can fight and struggle all you like, but the reality of the situation is simple. You can't get away, and you can't kill me. How much time you spend down here is simply up to you."

"So, you want to me to submit and play the perfect pet to satisfy some kink of yours," Voldemort muttered angrily, but Harry could also hear defeat in his voice. The insult didn't exactly hit as it was probably intended.

"Yes," Harry answered truthfully. "I seem to have developed a darker side since the war, wonder whose fault that is, and I don't require consent from you. This is a punishment for all the people you killed, tortured and maimed. For all the years of terror you brought to the Wizarding World. You forced men and women to bow to you, to kneel and beg to be spared. You humiliated them, mocked them and often killed them without mercy. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I don't know if you remember the Bible, pet, but that's one of the Golden rules."

Voldemort scoffed. "Seems like your morals have become worse since the war also."

"Perhaps. But that leaves you with a choice. Do you want to stay here, or do you want to come upstairs."

Voldemort sighed and seemed deflate. "What is the price, sir?" It sounded like he was forcing the words out, but that was fine. Harry hesitated. He had not planned on demanding anything. After all Voldemort had spent a month locked up alone.

"No price, pet. Just a simple yes or no answer." That made Voldemort's head come up and he met Harry's eyes. For a moment they simply stared at each other before Voldemort nodded. "Yes, please."

Harry led him upstairs, not bothering to take a hold of Voldemort as they crossed the wards. They adjusted in accordance with his intentions and let Voldemort through.

As they entered the bedroom, Harry caught the look Voldemort cast towards the bathroom door. "My all means," Harry said, holding out a hand to take the blue blanket Voldemort had dragged with him. Voldemort hesitated and didn't look like he wanted to hand over the blanket, but eventually he did. Harry nodded in advantage of the fact that Voldemort was in the bathroom he used some strong cleaning spells to clean it before folding it neatly and putting it on the bed. He did not understand the attachment Voldemort had to the blanket, but perhaps not everything was meant to make sense.

Harry was lounging on the sofa with a book when Voldemort finally came into the room. The man seemed uncomfortable for a moment before he simply knelt just inside the door. Well, that was a change, Harry thought, lowering his book.

"Come here, Tom," he said, gesturing to his feet. Anger flashed across Voldemort's face, but he knelt in front of Harry as asked. Moving a blanket a side, Harry handed him the wrapped present that he had been hiding. Voldemort frowned as he accepted it.

"Sir?" He inquired.

"Hold on a moment," Harry said, rising to his feet. He went down to the kitchen and got the tray of food he had made when he had arrived. Bringing it back up he found Voldemort in the same position as he had left him. He put the tray on the coffee table and gestured to Voldemort. "Go on, open it. If you are hungry you can feed yourself from the tray."

Voldemort slowly unwrapped the present. As he did several robes appeared. All in dark colours. Frowning in confusion, Voldemort looked up. This was the first time Harry had given him anything other than the ratty robe he had been wearing for as long as Harry could remember.

"Happy birthday, Tom," Harry smiled. The confusion on the man's face grew. "It's the 31st of December. I've also extended the wards to also include the main library." For a moment Harry wondered if anyone had ever given Voldemort a birthday gift.

Voldemort stroke a hand over the fabrics, which were all of excellent quality before looking up. There was a softness to his eyes that Harry had never seen before. He assumed it probably was another manipulation tactic, but still, it was strange to see.

"Why?" The man asked, taking Harry by surprise. Then again, it might be a valid question. Why should Harry give him anything for his birthday when he had just told the man the only reason he was alive was because he served a purpose as someone for Harry to abuse.

"You are mine, and I take care of what is mine. As long as you do behave there is no reason why you can't have a relatively peaceful life. If you do disobey I will punish you as you have experienced."

######

Harry smiled and paid for the vegetables as the salesman handed the bag over. Spring was in the air and the marked at the nearby muggle village was booming with produce. Harry had come here a couple of times, but this time he thought it would be a nice treat for Voldemort to be allowed to come along. The man had been behaving very well the last months. There had been some questions about Harry's status as Master of Death, but they had ceased when Harry had made it clear he had divulged as much information about that subject as he had intended.

Turning he found Voldemort by the next stall over. It was selling leather wear and Voldemort looked like he was lost in thought as he was staring into thin air and twirling a leather collar around in his hands. Harry smirked. Voldemort looked like he was lost in his own thoughts and had probably not noticed what he had picked up.

Moving over, he leaned in close. "I can buy you one of those if you are interested," he spoke, making sure his voice took on the suggesting tone that he knew would send Voldemort into a fit.

Just as expected, Voldemort dropped the collar as if he had burned himself and glared at Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow, and the man dropped his gaze quickly at the warning. A blush was starting to form on his neck and Harry found it almost adorable.

"Can I interest you in a high-quality collar, sir?" The owner of the stand had noticed them lingering and was apparently eying the possibility of a sale. "Might I enquire as to what kind of canine you own?" Oh, poor man, he had no idea, Harry thought, but he couldn't help the smile that was starting to form.

"He is a mixed breed, sir. A stray that I took in," Harry began, ignoring the furious look Voldemort was sending him. "He's very headstrong and stubborn but does what he's told when it suites him."

The seller nodded. "Ah, I understand. A mixed breed is however a very good thing really. The way they breed some of the canines these days. They try to keep the blood pure, which leads to inbreeding and a lot of medical illness as they keep breeding on bad blood. My experience is that a mixed blood seems to get the best genes from both sides and are often more powerful and more stable than their pureblood relatives."

Voldemort was frowning to Harry's amusement, and he was wondering if the man saw the similarities with his own champaign for blood purity.

"As for the behaviour. If I might offer some advice. You need a firm hand with the intelligent ones, or they will overpower you. With a firm hand I don't mean abuse but setting ground rules and keeping him to them. He will be more comfortable once he knows what you expect of him and that there are consequences if he breaks the rules. What colour is he?"

"Black," Harry answered, struggling to keep back his laughter at the salesman's more or less accurate description of Voldemort. Voldemort on the other hand didn't seem like he saw the humour in the exchange. He had crossed his arms over his chest and was making a point of looking everywhere except at Harry.

The seller smiled. "Oh, he would look lowly in this collar. The white, sheep wool lining against the dark leather and the silver clasp. The leather is first class and will not chaff against his neck and destroy the fur. Here, feel it." The collar was handed over. The leather felt like butter in his hands and the white lining was soft to the touch.

"What do you think, Tom?" Harry asked, faking eagerness in his voice as he asked his "partner" for his opinion. Voldemort sent him a glare that was so glacial that it could have frozen Sahara.

"I don't think he needs one," the man bit out through clenched teeth and the anger in his eyes almost made them crimson.

Harry just smiled, trying to appear innocent. "Oh, you never think he needs anything," he said and turned back to the seller with a knowing look that made the man smile. "We'll take it."

The seller beamed. "Very good, sir. Just a moment and I'll have it wrapped for you." He turned and walked a couple of paces away. Harry watched as he put the collar on the counter and reached underneath it for some wrapping paper.

"If you think I'll allow you to put that around my neck, you might as well just banish me to the basement when we get back h- to the house," Voldemort snarled, luckily low enough that no one but Harry heard him. Harry allowed his smile to stiffen as he looked into Voldemort's furious eyes.

"Pet, if I want that around your neck it will go around your neck." His voice was hard. They had been through all this. If Voldemort still thought he had some say in things, then he was sorely mistaken.

Voldemort stiffened and for a moment Harry thought he would continue to argue, but no, he kept silent as the salesman handed the wrapped collar over and accepted the money Harry gave him.

Harry smiled. Yes, they were making progress even though Voldemort was doing his best to stay unaffected.