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Harry awoke to soft sheets and wonderfully warm covers. That sleepy haze still surrounded him and he turned over to bury his face in the pillow. It quickly dissipated when pain flared up in his ankle and he felt wide awake and extremely aware of Voldemort's presence. He was glad that he had managed to bury his face in the pillow. He really didn't want to see Voldemort,

"Are you pretending to be asleep?"

Harry nearly jumped at Voldemort's voice but quickly calmed himself down,

"No, not pretending. Can't turn over now. I think I sprained my ankle."

He could turn over if he wanted to but he didn't want to face Voldemort so the ankle was a perfect excuse. And then there was that snake around his throat. The sight of it just made him feel sick and extremely weird. He remembered what had happened to him last night when he had looked at it. He didn't want to feel that way again. Harry felt the covers being pulled away from his feet. Was Voldemort really checking his ankle. He really hoped it looked sprained. The covers were replaced and Voldemort spoke again,

"It is indeed injured."

Harry nodded his head shakily. Voldemort had promised to show him the extent of his cruelty. He had been caught. Any second now, Voldemort would torture him. But when it didn't come for a while, Harry couldn't help but speak,

"I lost, you can torture me if you want. It'll only be fair."

Harry instantly regretted his words. Did he have a death wish? No, Voldemort wasn't going to kill him. Maybe he had become a bloody masochist. Nope, he wasn't a masochist. Voldemort, however only chuckled,

"Do you enjoy suffering, Harry?"

Harry shook his head and groaned,

"I don't know why I said that."

Harry felt the bed dip. Voldemort must have sat down beside him,

"It seems you do. You had no trouble offering yourself to Bellatrix and Greyback. And you purposely went looking for trouble when you encountered the Dementors."

Harry felt his curiosity return and he had a thousand questions in his mind,

"Dementors? Those things in the basement?"

Voldemort sighed in exasperation and then spoke,

"Yes, the very same."

Harry was dying to straighten up now but he knew he would just have another terrible reaction to seeing that snake and he didn't want that because then he wouldn't be able to ask all the questions he wanted to ask and he was certain he wouldn't get Voldemort in a mood like this again,

"What are they?"

Voldemort didn't reply for a while and Harry began to think that Voldemort had changed his mind and was going to torture him after all. Then he spoke,

"Dementor are Dark creatures, one of the foulest to inhabit this castle. They feed on human happiness and thus generate feelings of depression and despair in any person in close proximity to them. They can also consume a person's soul, rendering a person an empty-shell."

Harry frowned into the pillow,

"So, they could have sucked my soul out that day?"

Harry stiffened when he felt Voldemort's fingers touch his head, thinking that the man was going to grab his hair like last time. Nothing like that happened though and Voldemort began carding his fingers through his hair. Harry allowed himself to relax but the wariness didn't leave him.

"Why'd I hear my mother though? That doesn't make sense."

Oh damn, there it was. The reason why he had run in the first place. The man sitting beside him had murdered his parents in cold blood and he was laying here, letting him touch him and having a civil conversation with him. What the hell was wrong with him? Voldemort hated him. He had made that point very clear. The only reason he was alive was because…...now that he thought of it. Voldemort hadn't mentioned why he was keeping him alive. He had only said that there had been an unexpected turn of events. The point was that he should hate Voldemort too. But hate and rage were such taxing emotions. They had left him feeling drained and he didn't want to feel that again. There had to be a reason why Voldemort had gone after his parents. The voice in his head screamed at him to get real and stop this absurdity but his heart kept urging him to understand. He hated this confusion. Why was Voldemort so silent. Maybe he was going through an inner turmoil of his own.

Harry felt Voldemort's hand grab his hair. Yup, it seemed Voldemort had decided to go with his brain. Maybe Voldemort didn't have a heart. Harry tried not to react and kept himself as still as possible. Gradually Voldemort's grip relaxed on his hair and he began stroking his hair again. Harry couldn't understand what was going on. He was dying to know what Voldemort was thinking,

"Dementors tend to leave a person with the worst experiences of their life."

Harry closed his eyes and finally asked,

"Why are you keeping me alive?"

Voldemort went silent again and his hand stilled in his hair,

"That is none of your concern."

Harry resisted the urge to turn over again,

"My life is not my concern?"

Voldemort's hand began moving again,

"Yes, your life does not belong to you anymore. It belongs to me therefore it is my concern now."

He was subconsciously enjoying what Voldemort was doing. He felt soothed and couldn't help but relax completely,

"But that doesn't make any sense."

He was perfectly aware of the fact that he was arguing just for the sake of arguing now. It didn't matter why Voldemort was keeping was alive. The only thing that mattered was the fact that he would be spending the rest of his life in this castle. He might as well accept that fact now. And it wasn't like Voldemort was going to turn him into a slave. Would he? He wasn't sure. His body stiffened again at that thought,

"Are you going to turn me into a slave?"

Voldemort chuckled and spoke,

"Is that the only thing that terrifies you?"

Harry huffed indignantly. Voldemort really enjoyed it when he was terrified,

"No, it doesn't terrify me. I've been a slave for fifteen years. It's not going to be anything new for me. I just want to be mentally prepared for it."

Voldemort patted his head,

"I do not require slaves. I thought that was apparent."

Harry relaxed again,

"But you hate me. And everyone else here will hate me too once they find out that I'm the reason for this curse. I don't think I can live with so much hate."

Voldemort pulled away his hand from his hair,

"You lived with your relatives, did you not? Consider this an improvement. I shall not allow anyone else to know your secret."

Harry turned over steadily and looked up at Voldemort. the light must have been playing tricks because Voldemort's eyes weren't crimson, they were a beautiful clear shade of brown. Harry felt like he had been wrong about Voldemort's soul. Harry could see it as clear as day now, Voldemort's soul. There was something that flickered there, something golden and lovely. Something that was crying out to be set free. How was he seeing this? Was this really Voldemort's soul,

But then he saw it, the snake. Its head came from the darkness behind him. It slinked over his shoulder, across his chest, around his arm, and back up to his throat. Harry blinked and whatever gold he'd seen in Voldemort's eyes, vanished, leaving nothing but ash in its place and they turned back into smouldering crimson.

Harry turned his head and closed his eyes,

"You didn't tell me about the snake."

There was silence for a while and then Voldemort spoke,

"You are surely hallucinating again,"

Harry shook his head,

"It's there. I'm not hallucinating."

He felt Voldemort rise to his feet and vanish. Harry thought of the snake that crept from Voldemort's darkness, the way it slithered and crawled across his body like it was part of his whole. Maybe it was. But then why wasn't Voldemort aware of its presence. He had seen Voldemort's soul. Maybe Voldemort was right. Maybe he really was hallucinating.

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