It was the pain in my… well everything that woke me up.

Now believe me when I tell you, there is nothing more terrifying than waking up chained and bruised in a torture chamber. There just isn't. Go on try to think of something scarier. Keep in mind that you're quite unaware of how you got there, you're missing most of your clothes and you can not only taste your own blood but you can feel it dribbling down your back, your legs, your arms and you can see the rivets of it dried on your stomach. OK now call me a coward for screaming. You can't. See?

Looking up I could see my wrists bound in heavy, old-fashioned manacles which were positioned so high on the wall that my feet couldn't reach the floor. The strain on my arms was agonising, I tried to position my feet flat against the wall to take some of the pressure but to no avail. The soles of my bare feet just kept sliding down the rough wall, causing welts and cuts to erupt all over the delicate skin. The worst thing about it was knowing that the dungeon was filthy, all sorts of infections could be seeping through my injuries.

Small, frustrated noises echoed of the flaking, stone walls and they were coming from me. I strained against my bindings, using my feet to push myself of the wall. I struggled to wriggle my hands out of the manacles but I only succeeded in sawing dangerously at my wrist. It would do me no good to slice an artery of some sort, I'd have no chance of escape if I lost much more blood, I was already feeling light-headed. With a cry of defeat I hung limply from the wall feeling lost, confused and terrified.

I took time to take a proper look at my surroundings, with little more than a glance I could tell that this was a room devoted to torture and that I was completely alone. More manacles hung, unused from the walls. No more than a meter from where I hung was a large steel table littered with knives and surgical apparatus, the fire from the brackets along the walls caused the tools to flash ominously. The mere sight of that table sent me into a fit, arteries or no, I needed free. I struggled hard, screaming, pulling, crying. Bile rose in my throat and I began to choke on my own vomit. I spat it out, it splashed over my face and down my chest, the texture and sickly, sweet smell of it made me want to vomit some more.

I hung for what seemed like hours, eventually I became mysteriously calm. Maybe it was the blood loss or maybe it was just sheer resignation to my fate. After all, this was just the wait, what was to come would probably be much worse if my surroundings were anything to go by. So I might as well relax, breathe, collect myself. No more screaming, no more vomiting, no more fruitless struggling. I would go out with a little dignity. Well as much dignity as was possible while tied to a wall, nearly nude and soaked in my own vomit.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on not thinking and taking deep, strong breaths. I sucked the putrid air of the chamber in through my nose just like I was taught to in yoga, when I let it all out I could physically feel my body loosen, become less insanely tense. Another breath.

Suddenly my body was wracked with excruciating pain, my aura of calm was shattered and I screamed blue murder. I was vaguely aware of my bodies movements, I knew my legs were curled up around my chest, that my arms were flaying against their ties, my head was twisting and banging against the wall but the pain was so intense that all this movement was secondary. In that moment I knew that this was a pain I couldn't survive. My organs felt like they were fighting to free themselves from my flesh, my muscles contracted, my toes curled, my hands made fists. I squealed like a wounded animal. Then suddenly the pain stopped and I was outside of it all.

I had died. I was sure of it. For a split second I was outside of my body, staring at myself hanging limply. It's strange the things you notice, it wasn't the vomit, or the nudity that I honed in on. It was the burning red tattoo on my right fore-arm and the fact that my eyes had been engulfed by green flame that caught my attention. But before I could contemplate the complete lunacy of what was happening I felt a tug on my spirit and I was rushing through the building like wind.

I was a ghost. That was the only explanation. I had died and now I would roam the earth for all eternity seeking a ghostly vengeance.

I sped through the halls of what appeared to be a mansion, ignoring doors, just slipping through walls and after no time at all it just stopped. I was in a large living-room staring at another corpse. It was the man from the train station.

It looked as if he had been curled into a foetal position before he died, his eyes, like mine, were engulfed with fire only his was an icy blue opposed to my green. His right arm was turned upwards and I could see a blisteringly red rose glowing on his fore-arm, exactly where my new tattoo had been. He was topless and glistening with sweat, the floor around him was covered in vomit and blood dribbled from his wrists.

Half of my brain was screaming that it didn't understand, what's going on? Am I dead? But the other half was more accepting, it didn't think I was dead, there was a less-reasonable, but preferable explanation for all this.

Standing over the man was a figure in a hooded cloak, his expression was devoured by shadow. Then suddenly he vanished. Just like that.

I felt the tugging again and suddenly I was rushing backwards, the house zoomed past me like a rewound film and I slammed back into my body. The pain of my injuries hit me like a sledge hammer, smashing into me mercilessly, I was momentarily blinded by agony.

"Silence."

Sheer shock made me quiet. Shaking and sweating I waited for my vision to clear. When it did I was faced with the hooded man from my out-of-body experience. I starred at him, I knew my lip was quivering but I didn't know how to stop it. Some school trip this turned out to be.

"W-w-hat's going on?" My voice came out a hoarse croak.

The man laughed, a sound so purely evil that the hairs on my neck stood on end and seemed to want to crawl from my body.

"Do you know who I am?" The man asked, his voice varied from a deep monotone to an almost high-pitched hiss, as if it couldn't quite make up its mind. The sound should have been funny, but I'd never heard anything less amusing.

I just kept staring at the shadow where his face was hiding, should I answer? I wasn't sure. But I gave it a go, "No…"

"So you are a muggle," He took a large step towards me, I automatically began struggling again. "Do not be foolish," He hissed, "You are unable to escape,"

"Yeah, kinda figured that," Why must I speak? Why did I do that? What couldn't I control my mouth like a normal person?

Quick as a flash he slapped me. A big bitch slap. His hand was like ice before the burning sting of the slap, I could taste blood. "Insolence," He muttered, I couldn't see his expression but I was almost sure he was examining me, and being that I was nearly naked that was not pleasant. But I got no sex vibes, he didn't seem to even notice I was a girl, it was like that was of no importance to him. He leaned his face close to the tattoo on my fore-arm, inspecting it. I would have liked to have a wee look at it too, it's always fascinating when you wake up with a new tattoo… Maybe I'd been drunk? "I am going to ask you some questions," He told me, his breath was unnaturally hot against my arm, "You will answer them promptly and truthfully. You cannot fool me so do not try."

He was going to ask I me /I some questions? How about: Where am I? What's a muggle? Who are you? Why am I having out of body experiences? Where'd that tattoo come from? Who's the blonde man? Where's Donovan Clarke? Why are you pointing a stick at me? Are you going to hit me with it? Are you going to kill me? How'd you get me here? How did you just vanish and reappear here? Really what's with the stick? Etc, etc, etc. And maybe after those questions had been answered my unbearable urge to scream until the end of time would subside.

"What is you're name muggle?" He moved back from my arm and continued pointing the stick at me. I hated him. It was official. If I had anything resembling a backbone I would have stuck my tongue out at him. But even I'm not that brave, read stupid.

"Naomi Thompson." At least my voice was less croaky now. I was actually beginning to sound like a resentful teenager again. Hurray!

"Are you aware of the existence of a magical realm?"

"A what now?"

"What age are you?"

"Seventeen-,"

"Are you in alliance with the order of the phoenix?"

"The order of the filofax?"

"Are you aware of the existence of one Harry Potter?"

"Just one? I know plenty-," Slap. God damn it. I spat the blood on the ground and glared.

My mind was boggled to say the least, I'd only half processed the words filofax and magical realm. What was going on? This was rather crazy. I was so confused I was kind of forgetting to be scared, hence the not-so-witty responses that kept slipping out. The only thing I could think of was that I'd stumbled on some sort of office-supplies cult.

"I shall not tolerate disobedience," Creepy warned, "You wear thin on my patience, to wear too thin would be hazardous for you,"

I swallowed loudly. Read gulped. He clicked his fingers, there were two loud popping noises and the thugs from Kings Cross suddenly appeared at his side. Que my yelp of shock.

With a flick of his stick my manacles became unlocked. My legs were far too weak to carry my weight so I just hit the floor with a sickening crack of knees on stone. My palms slapped the floor and I panted heavily staring at the ground, "What the fuck?" My voice was a whisper. I'd heard of clap lights, but never automatic manacles.

"Grab her," The hooded man commanded and I was suddenly thrown over one of the Houdini thugs shoulders like a rag doll. I contemplated struggling, but I couldn't really move all too well.

"Please tell me what's going on?" I pleaded, I was being carried out of the torture chamber which could only be good news but I was still a freaked. Just a tad. "Please! I'm meant to be on a school assignment! I won't tell anyone anything just let me go!" Ever gallant, that's me.

They all ignored me. The hooded man vanished with a pop but the two thugs stayed with me. I was carried up so many staircases that I lost count. After a good five minutes of being carried I stopped feeling quite so frightened and began to get a little indignant. With the scary hooded fiend gone the danger seemed to have passed. I could afford to be a little cheeky towards the muscle.

"I can walk you know!" I snapped, although I wasn't sure that was true. "For Gods sake put me down!" I tried pummelling his back with my fists, but his muscles were like rock and it felt like I was hitting a wall. I stopped. "At least give me your shirt. I'm all naked here. It's not good. I'm only seventeen you know, you're technically paedophiles if you don't give me some clothes right now,"

The problem with this was that they seemed completely deaf to me. Maybe they really didn't speak English? I really wanted some clothes and a shower. I felt so sticky; covered in vomit and sweat, it was a horrible feeling. Eventually we began trundling along a corridor with windows that actually looked outside, it was dark out. We reached a door, I couldn't see it as I was staring at my thuggish carriers bum but I could tell because the other thug knocked it.

"Enter." Came an oh-so-familiar hiss.

The door was pushed open and I was promptly thrown onto the floor. Luckily this room had a plush carpet so my landing wasn't as painful as it could have been, it was still sore though. "Ow!"

I was surprised to hear a male voice echo mine. I turned to stare, it was the blonde man.

He looked extremely worse for wear. His skin was pasty white, his hair slick with sweat and plastered to his skull, large bags circling his eyes, blood caked over his naked torso, he was shaking like a leaf. Then again so was I.

"Leave us."

The thugs exited. I heard a key turn in the lock.

My breathing suddenly sounded very loud in the silent room. The hooded man was standing by the fireplace, no fire burned but he was staring at the empty grate as if mesmerised. All of a sudden the candles that lit the room flicked and died, I gasped. I couldn't help it.

Moonlight filtered through long windows making everything grey and eerie, shadows seemed to leer out at me. Goose-bumps erupted all over my body, my flesh crawled with them.

"I am Lord Voldemort," Hissed the man, his voice echoed around me. He radiated power and evil, a chilling combination. "You have crossed more lines than I deem acceptable tonight Muggle," He strode away from the fireplace and settled into a throne like armchair, surveying me.

"I didn't mean to-,"

"SILENCE!" He had that bloody stick again, "CRUCIO!"

The pain that had gripped me back in the dungeon flooded me again. My whole body convulsed, I raked my own nails along my flesh in anguish, my heart felt ready to burst, my skull felt as if it would split. Then it was over.

I lay on my back shuddering and crying. Why was this happening to me? The blonde man was on the ground beside me, his arms were still twitching from the spasms but his face was expressionless, his eyes deadened as if he'd endured worse.

"Stand." The lord commanded and I found myself struggling to my feet, I was like a dog who had been beaten. Suddenly broken and obedient. My legs were like jelly, I couldn't for the life of me stand on them. I was trying so hard but it wasn't going to happen. Fear gripped my heart, I tried harder. I was half way up when my knees gave out and I fell again. "Stand!"

The blonde man was already on his feet, swaying unsteadily but there none the less. He reached a hand towards me and I gratefully accepted it. So I stood, clinging to the hand of my enemy for support.

"Kneel," Came our next command. The blonde man instantly dropped onto one knee and bowed his head, I tried to stay standing, defiant, but he still had my hand and I was pulled down too.

"Isn't this fascinating," Lord Voldemort's voice was barely louder than a whisper but every word vibrated around me, "I could never have planned for an occurrence such as this…" I desperately wanted to ask 'an occurrence like what?' but kept quiet. I'd learnt that lesson. "Draco, do you still doubt my explanations?"

"No master," The blonde man a.k.a. Draco bowed his head even lower.

"How could I have possibly planned for you Draco, an unworthily child, to join in such an alliance?"

"Alliance?" Damn it. SHUT UP!

But he didn't point his wand at me, instead the lord chuckled. A low rumbling sound. "I shall explain. You have stole into a world, muggle, in which you do not belong. A world you could not possibly comprehend. In this world magic rules and the ordinary is never what it seems. You have made a grave mistake venturing here and I doubt you will live long enough to learn from it-,"

"Will I live long enough to find out why you keep calling me a muddle?" Magic? I suddenly wanted to start searching for the hidden cameras; Ashton! You punk'd me so bad man!

Draco squeezed my hand hard, it hurt a lot. Suddenly he cursed and let go of me rubbing his own hand and shooting me evils. I cradled my throbbing hand giving him the dirtiest look possible. This guy I could take out.

Yet again the self-proclaimed lord did not get angry, he just began to laugh but not in a nice way, he pointed his stick at the fireplace and hissed something; it sounded like Latin. A flame shot out from the stick and exploded into the grate, the freshly made fire roared at us casting glowing shapes on the walls.

I stared dumbfounded. So… I'd entered Narnia… Passed through the looking-glass… jumped down the rabbit hole… I could deal with that.

"You are a muggle," The wand was slipped into his robes, "A non-magical person, scum, dirt, barely more than an animal," The lord stood and loomed over us. "You look like wizards, but you are inferior, you lack the power we do, the intelligence. For millennia magical folk have lived in a world separate from the muggles, but now interbreeding has began, our race is being weakened by your dirty blood and I and my dedicated followers shall end the misconception of muggles that is polluting our society and return it to its former glory."

I was still reeling from being called scum.

"However, it appears that you are not as useless as your kinsmen," Lord Voldemort pushed back his hood and I fought the urge to scream. He had a stretched, pale face with blood-shot slits for eyes and no nose to speak of. His mouth was a slash in his flimsy skin, his tongue pointed like a snakes. "One of the oldest magicks known has forged a powerful connection between you, muggle, and one of my followers." His tongue would shoot out and caress the area where his lips should have been when he was not speaking, it was a horrendous sight.

"Oh?" I gaped at him fighting the urge to touch my own lips and check they were still there.

"Something has taken place between you both, a magical reaction if you will… Our world has not seen such a connection in over two millennia.

"In modern day 'Soulmates' is a term used by uneducated fools to describe romantic ties, however this is an all too common misconception. Once there was a time when finding a 'Soulmate' was something only the greatest of wizards could accomplish, it is a forging of beings, an intermingling of spirits. By finding a Soulmate a person became more powerful, and much more resistant to harm. There are many side-affects of such a bond. For you mere children to have stumbled upon each other so early in your lives is both a triumph and a tragedy…"

I was doing that starring thing again, a slacked jawed, unblinking stare. I looked from the snake-man to the blonde man. My chin quivered as I tried to speak.

"You're… You're saying that that guy… Him," I pointed, "Is my… My Soulmate?" This was all too weird. But really, after everything that had happened I was just about ready to believe anything, "But he's so… scrawny,"

Draco looked momentarily stunned, then stunned became affronted but he didn't say anything.

"It is strange," Lord Voldemort circled us, "Most crouching, weaponless and at my mercy would learn to bite their tongue… you however seem to be missing that vital skill,"

"Yeah…" I shrugged, well if he was going to torture me again I might as well deserve it, "But you see, most people wouldn't force strangers to kneel before them in the buff, so I guess we both have our issues,"

He laughed again. What? I was funny now? Why couldn't I have been funny earlier when he was virtually killing me?

When he finished laughing the room was silent. No one spoke. My breathing seemed freakishly loud. Silence…

"Can I have some clothes?" Well it was worth a try.

"Of course," Lord Voldemort's snake like expression twisted into what I can only describe as his own personal version of a smile, "How rude of me… perhaps you would like some pumpkin juice?"

"Um…" I shrugged, "Just maybe my jeans… that would be great…"

"Nonsense," He waved his stick, I was coming to the conclusion it was a magic stick. Possibly a wand. But would they call it a wand? Would they have a special word for it that muddle's didn't know about? But I digress, he waved it- the stick wand thing- and a goblet of juice appeared. He thrust it into my hands, some of the juice sloshed over the edge, dribbling onto my wrists. "I'll leave you two to become acquainted. And Draco remember you have business to attend to tonight,"

Then he vanished again.

So I sat. Naked. With juice.

I raised the goblet to my lips, you know making the best of my situation but quick as a flash my new lover… Soulmate… whatever… knocked the goblet out of my hands. It hit the floor with a thud and the contents spewed all over the carpet. I gaped at the dark puddle.

"Are you completely stupid?" Blondie snapped at me climbing to his feet. I followed suit glaring.

"That was my juice!" Indignity became me.

"Yeah. Juice, that's what it was. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to take drinks from strange dark lords?"

He did have a good point. "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to kidnap people?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I don't want you here." He was looking at me as if I was something nasty he'd found on the bottom of his shoe.

"Oh yeah I forgot, you just wanted to engrave a crazy message into my skin and let me go," I fumed with my arms crossed over my chest, hiding my dignity.

"Oh don't be so petty-,"

"Petty? You were going to brand me!" How dare he?

"You deserved it."

So I hit him again. This was a nice clean jab to the nose I was planning to follow through with a right hand but, yet again, the attack had unexpected consequences. I felt my own nose squeal in pain, and my eyes water. "God damn it!" I bent over clutching my nose.

Draco was breathing heavily through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his own bleeding nose and bent his head back. "Are all muggles this slow on the uptake or are you just an unlucky exception?"

I didn't have a semi-witty reply lined up so I stayed silent. The stinging in my nose gradually faded and I took some time to admire my new Soulmate fellow. Disappointment became me. Maybe I'd been spoiled by Detective Don's intense beauty but Draco just didn't meet the standards required. He was sweaty, skinny, dirty, covered in blood and had a nasty habit of kidnapping me. This would never, never do.

"So what… are you guys going to kill me now or later?"

Draco threw me a scathing look, "Well I don't plan on killing you anytime soon."

"So what your game plan just changed? You were all for killing me in the toilets-,"

"Yeah well now killing you wouldn't do me any good. You know what? Just stop talking. You're irritating me now."

My fist itched. I refrained. I did not need another self-inflicted sore.

Draco was on his feet and pacing, after a few minutes he ran both his hands through his hair pulling it back from his face, he looked thoughtful. The moonlight from the window shone on his skin and I was suddenly struck by how pale he was, like alabaster, white marble, death. This boy did not get out nearly enough. He turned to me and eyed me carefully, "Well come on then," He made a jerking motion with his head and headed for the door, "It's after midnight, we don't have much time."

I followed him, still clutching my chest, "Don't have much time for what?"

"I have a prior engagement… now it would appear you're coming too."

"Why?"

"Would you rather I lock you back in the dungeon until I get back?"

"I don't know that depends on where we're going."

He turned to me and I'm sure I wasn't imagining the small smile playing on his lips, "Smart… we're going to a club."

"A club?" I gaped at him, "This is a time for underage drinking and head banging?"

"Not exactly…" He explained and when he had finished my mind was buzzing. No way.