A deep, thorough darkness. Silence, not the calming kind he hoped for, but more of an oppressive blanket which threatened to smother him. Nothing seemed to move, and he knew what was coming. Watching the ever lasting shadows, he waited.

Squinting at the sudden flair of light, he looked around with a dejected interest. It seemed he was in a study; strong mahogany furniture was prominent throughout the room, blending elegantly with the deep crimson walls. The floor was a deep black stone, matching crimson rugs littering it randomly. The light didn't seem to have a source as such, but floated around the room as a gentle mist.

This was new.

Standing in the middle of this mysterious room, he made no move to investigate further. He had learnt long ago that what would happen, would happen, regardless off what he did or didn't do.

"Harry Potter"

Slowly turning toward the serpentine voice, Harry smiled grimly.

"Lord Voldemort"

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The first day of classes shone bright and clear. A mockery perhaps, of the sorrow that laced the lives of those underneath it. Everyone had been affected by the Christmas holiday deaths, even Slytherins had lost friends. The great hall was unusually quiet at meal times, the only talking done in hushed whispers.

Harry Potter lay still in the hospital wing, deep in the magical coma that trapped him. It was a secret, so of course the whole school knew. Some were shocked, some worried. Most were unconcerned, and many were maliciously happy. It was clear the he was their saviour no longer, a fallen angel of sorts. Many hated him, blamed him for their misfortune and sadness. There were a few however, a scarce few who cared.

Draco Malfoy sat in the great hall and glared at all around him. With his return to Hogwarts, he had expected people to be in grieving, he had expected the sorrowful atmosphere. What he hadn't expected was the enhanced hatred towards the boy who lived. How could these idiots blame a boy who wanted only to help them! To save them! Sneering, he pushed away from the table and strode from the hall, intent on visiting said boy. This war was becoming more ridiculous by the second, lines blurring until Draco couldn't define who was on which side anymore. The so called light side had a lot to account for it seemed, leaving their only hope to waste away. They were damning themselves, and he'd be bloody stupid to go down with them.

Striding into the hospital wing, he gave little heed to the mediwitch scowling at him, and slowly pushed aside the privacy curtain keeping the boy wonder from others. Dracos first thought was that Potter looked dead, but the slight rise and fall of his chest said otherwise. Sitting in the uncomfortable chair provided, he studied him, thinking over everything he knew.

He didn't support Voldemort, though he understood some of his motivations. It was a shame, in his opinion, that he had been so consumed by the Dark Arts. Not many were able to hold of the madness that threatened when using such powerful magic, and Voldemort had been no different, no matter how powerful he claimed to be. The sheer insanity that drove him now would not be enough to fulfil his aims, and Draco mused that he was more likely to simply cause mass destruction rather that a successful revolution.

Dumbledore was a whole other matter. The all powerful pinnacle of the Light side was just a bad as Voldemort in many ways. He was cold and manipulative, the end justifying the means personified. As long as it was for the 'greater good', sacrifices were acceptable. It didn't matter that it was families he destroyed, children he ruined. Harry Potter was evidence enough of that.

Draco didn't want to have to choose between the two. To pick a master was bad enough, but here the options were little different. Whichever he chose he would have to serve with his unwavering loyalty, and his life. He had hoped, that Potter would show an alternative, a third party in this war, but the boy was so lost himself...

Sighing, Draco picked up his lost saviours hand and closed his eyes. He didn't know what to do, and it worried him. His father's threat over the holidays was an unfriendly reminder that he would have to act soon, but his options were unthinkable. Running away was looking damn appealing at the moment.

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Unaware of the blonde holding his still mortal hand, Harry Potter conversed with the Dark Lord. Strange as that was alone, stranger still was the lack of animosity between them.

"I trust you know why you are here Harry?"

Sighing, Harry threw himself into the leather chair opposite his parents' killer.

"I knew you would come to me eventually, to tell me why you brought me here. For a while I thought you would kill me, or something, but now I'm not so sure"

Laughing cruelly, the Dark Lord steeped his hands in a way scarily reminisce of Dumbledore.

"Perceptive as usual, Harry. No, simply killing you is not my intention. You have spurned me on numerous occasions in the past, and it would feel something of an... Injustice. No, I wanted you to see, to understand what is happening around you Harry. These deaths, the mudbloods and muggle lovers, I wanted you to understand that this is necessary. My vision, Harry, is one of Wizarding superiority, and it cannot be taken lightly. Oh don't get me wrong, a peaceful transition would suit an ideal world, but in these times, drastic times bid for drastic measures. "

Calmly, Voldemort watched Harry take in his words. He could see the disgust and disagreement in his features, but it was somewhat mechanical, as if he was simply going through the motions.

"The crux of it Harry, is that I have been watching you. Dumbledore has failed, yet again, to protect you from both myself, and your disgusting muggle relatives. How can you abide by it, I wonder? You have such promise, and yet here you waste away. Fighting against me, in a most futile effort."

Red eyes flashing, Voldemort suddenly gripped his chair tightly. He seemed to be struggling to stay calm, and Harry could see the warring insanity fighting to emerge. Snarling, his last thread on reality seemed to snap.

"You, a mere child! I am Lord Voldemort, all powerful! How can you have caused me such problems? I will be victorious; you shall bow before me and wonder! This war, my vision! I will not let you meddle yet again! I will kill you if I must!!"

Gasping, Harry recoiled in muted shock. This was the Voldemort he knew, the mad enraged Wizard bent on causing hell on earth. This was the monster that had killed his friends. Feeling the calming darkness calling to him, he closed his eyes, praying for an escape.

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