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Check out my fanfic named "Entrapped".
Summary: Madness is not a state of mind. Madness is a place. What happens when Harry stumbles into it and gets trapped there? A Harry Potter version of Alice in Wonderland but a thousand shades darker.
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"Sirius, where the hell have you been?"
The bottom fell out of Voldemort's world. He plummeted, felt himself dropping, dropping. Far and fast. He knew that voice. He knew the man on the other end.
"Sirius, answer me, damn it."
Harry sounded frightened. Angry.
"You better not be out and about."
His lover. Harry. His lover. Voldemort tried to speak, he tried. His tongue wouldn't cooperate. He just stared at the phone, the voice coming through the speaker hitting him low and sharp. In the gut.
"Sirius."
He swallowed. Made his mouth move. Made his tongue form the words.
"Hello, Mr. Potter."
The pause, it was long. Drawn out. Heavy. And when his lover spoke…when he spoke…
"V."
Voldemort clasped a hand over his mouth and spun away. Giving his men his back, but that meant he was facing Sirius Black and the bastard was watching him, his one eye swelling bigger by the second.
"V."
Did he know how he disarmed Voldemort with that one word? Had he known the entire time how every utterance of that one word weakened Voldemort?
"V, please. I can explain. Ple…"
"I'm texting you the coordinates."
Voldemort said. Calmly? He doubted that, but at least it didn't give away the mix of anger, betrayal and pain that boiled so hot in his gut.
"One hour, Mr. Potter. Otherwise trust me when I tell you, your Sirius won't see the sunset."
"I'm on my way."
He didn't hesitate. He didn't stumble. Voldemort ended the call before he could wonder more about who his prisoner was to Harry. The time would come for answers. He would get them for sure.
"Master, are you okay?"
His men didn't move, but Voldemort felt their curious gazes on him. And Sirius looked at him as if he knew something Voldemort didn't. As if he could give reason to why Voldemort wanted to throw his head back and scream.
He jerked a nod and turning back to his guys, he kept his head down, chucking everything in his hand at them. The gun. The phones. Then he ran up the stairs. Not ran. Walked really fast. And in the bathroom on the first floor, he fell to his knees at the toilet and threw up.
His stomach clenched and contorted as he vomited, knees aching, gloved fingers clutching the edge of the nearby sink. Leaving red smears. Everything in his belly came up. His throat burned, something bitter coating his tongue. He laughed through the pain.
He'd been played. By a master. He'd been played. A means to an end. But what end was that?
When his stomach was empty and all he had left was dry heaves, he flushed the toilet then crawled over to the sink. He gargled water and washed his face. On his feet, he searched the medicine cabinet, but didn't find mouthwash. He did find a flat toothpaste tube. He squeezed it until a small pea sized amount squirted onto his finger.
He used that finger to scrub over his teeth and gums.
A lie. It was a lie. All of it. Just last night he was in Harry's arms and now? Why did it hurt so bad? Why was he shaking so hard? He spat in the sink then lifted his head, catching his eyes in the mirror. They were red-rimmed. He spun way and strode out the bathroom.
He could do this. Deal with Sirius Black and Harry Potter. It didn't matter who they were to each other. It mattered that Morfin was dead. Killed by the Order. He didn't know how Harry factored in, where he fit, but apparently, he did and it was Voldemort's job to get the answers. To make them pay. His time with Harry didn't matter. Not to him. Not to Harry either, despite the words. Despite the words.
Voldemort leaned against the wall next to the stairs leading to the basement. Don't think about it. Except he couldn't keep the memories of the two of them together at bay. He couldn't duck and hide from them. He sat on the top step, hands clasped in his lap.
Waiting.
When the knock came on the door, he jumped. Startled into awareness. He went downstairs and motioned to Nott and Avery.
"Get him. Bring him down here."
They left and he picked up the machete Rodolphus had placed on the floor. Voldemort stood next to the small window that looked out onto the sidewalk next to the Chinese Laundromat next door. A sliver of sunlight crept in. He stared at it. Unblinking. Searching for the strength to deal with what was about to join them in the basement. He searched in vain. There was none to be had. No strength.
No back up. Just him. Just Voldemort, weakened and broken by the enemy. Someone he trusted when he should've known better. The stairs creaked with every step Harry and Voldemort's men took on their descent into the basement. He didn't look. Couldn't. He was a coward, suddenly afraid, suddenly raw
And falling, because Harry was there. His presence, the sight of him ripped Voldemort open. Tore his insides to shreds. It rocked him, made his vision waver. Voldemort blinked and Harry was there. Stubble on his chin, eyes wide and cautious, hands out in front of him as he preceded Nott and Avery further into the basement.
Voldemort didn't speak. His throat closed up on him, but he watched Harry from the corner of his eye. Watched his gaze flick over Sirius.
"Sirius! Damn! Is he okay?"
"He's alive. For now."
Harry's eyes widened, hunting for Voldemort. He found him and Harry stopped. He stood there, just watching Voldemort, flanked by Nott and Avery.
Nobody spoke. Likely they were waiting for Voldemort. He was waiting too, for his emotions to vanish, for the cold man he knew he should be to make an appearance. But that wasn't happening. He was all emotion. All feeling. All hurting.
"V."
Voldemort dropped his hands to his sides. He turned, facing Harry full on. His lover was dressed casual, jeans and a black t-shirt against his pale skin. He always looked sexy when he was dressed in a suit and tie, but like this, even like this, he was the sexiest thing Voldemort had ever seen.
"I always say don't call me that,"
he said hoarsely.
"But the truth is I love it. It makes me feel…"
He shook his head, lifting a hand to lightly touch his chest, over his heart.
"It makes me feel."
"I know."
Harry's eyes glittered, voice as rust-filled as Voldemort's.
"That's why I'll never stop."
Everyone was staring at them. Wondering. Listening. Taking in every word.
"Start talking."
Check out my other fanfic named "Ensnared". It's actually a Harry Potter Version of "The Beauty and the Beast" Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback
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Check out my fanfic named "Elusion". Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback
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Check out my other fanfic named "No Escape." If you haven't checked it out yet. Just visit my profile or click on the link below
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If you have the time, then check out my other Harry Potter fanfic labelled "Desperation" Just visit my profile or click on the link below,