A linnet in a gilded cage,-

A linnet on a bough,-

In frosty winter one might doubt

Which bird is luckier now.

But let the trees burst out in leaf,

And nests be on the bough,

Which linnet is the luckier bird,

Oh who could doubt it now?

-Christina Georgina Rossetti

Of course, my luck is such a character sometimes. The first day I'm outside in months and it's freezing cold and wet.

I'm plastered against the outer wall of my castle of a home, just under the edge of the roof so that droplets of water fall to the mud barely missing the tip of my nose. I consider turning around and climbing back through the hole I'd found (dug myself after much time with a spell and then blasted through with a ramming charm), but my curiosity stood like a reprimanding barrier.

When are you going to get another chance like this?

"Maybe I could ask Voldemort to take me outside…"

Like taking a pet on a walk? Maybe we could wear a leash too.

"Fine," I grumble at it before pushing through the wet veil and into the rain. "I hope I don't end up regretting this," I whisper. Droplets of rain drip from my upper lip and I lick them off and smile. My whole body doesn't even seem to mind that I didn't dress for the occasion in my black slacks and tie. A coat might've been nice, I think after a while. "Definitely worth it," I say to the sky.

I'm not sure how long I'd been walking for, with the rain on rocks and trees for music, but my bare feet finally had had enough and cramped up against a round stone. I settled against a tree with roots as big as Master's bed and watched the nature I'd been deprived of for so long just be.

I can't tell you why I did it, maybe just because there was nobody there to tell me no, but I bent my head upwards and let out a scream as loud as I could into the air. Then, at the thought of a strange boy sitting in the rain screaming by himself, I started laughing. Thinking about it, I must've looked incredibly mental, but at the time, I just felt so… free.

"There you are, you little twit!"

It didn't last very long.

"Get up! I can't wait to see how Master punishes you for trying to run away-"

"I wasn't trying to run away. And I don't think you'll be telling MY Master anything." Wormtail, who'd been struggling on the rough terrain to reach me suddenly stopped and reached down to grab my shit front.

"What you talking 'bout? You threatening me?"

"You dragged me out here to get some fresh air. Of course I'd agree with you, I just didn't want to make master angry but you frightened me so badly that I did as I was told." Wormtail, for as slow as he is, was catching on pretty fast. His grip on my shirt tightened and he pulled me up to my feet.

"You wouldn't dare," he growled.

"I was just doing as he told me, Master! Please don't be too hard on him, I really did enjoy being outside!" I pleaded to our imaginary Voldemort, my acting skills pristine, obviously. "Oh, you just wait 'til my Master hears about this! Or maybe you can tell him yourself how you were supposed to be watching me but I got away. That way we can share a punishment. You're right, we should do that, let's go home-"

"Quiet! You'll do no such thing!" He took his hands back and paced on his stubby legs for a while, tugging at his hair. "You-you-you-you have to tell me how you got out and then I'll take you back inside and we won't tell anybody about any of this and it'll just go away and nobody's gettin' any sort of punishment!"

I feel bad for Wormtail, I really do. He's a grown man who's just as pathetic as I am. At least I have an excuse. And I'd never admit that to anyone else either.

"Tell me how you got outside!" My very dirty and very wet rat friend was demanding my attention again, but I was much more interested in the trees and what looked like a trail heading away from the house. He gripped my arm and pulled me backwards. "Tell me!"

"The back door," was my simple answer. Wormtail filled our hike back to the house with his unhappy grumbling at my 'rebellious antics.'

I hadn't noticed how light my heart had felt until it started getting heavier as we neared the house. Every step was a little pebble dropping down my throat and echoing back up making me sick. Instead of the clouds outside being all exciting and dangerous, they were looming and frightening. I hadn't noticed the scratches all over my bear feet until they were all I could dare look at.

So many cuts and scrapes. He'll know. He'll have to. He probably already knows.

"Ay! You in there, Boy?" Wormtail shoved his short shoulder into my arm. According to the floor underneath my dirty, cut up toes, we were back inside. "I said go with the house elf and getcha self cleaned up! You even listening?"

No, I'm NOT listening to you.

I don't want to get cleaned up! I want to fall over dead so that Voldemort won't be upset with me! I don't know how he'll react.

What if he takes me outside and ties me to a tree? That's what people normally do with their pets.

I'm NOT A PET!

"Young master," the house elf bombarded the line of vision between my eyes and toes. "Dobby finds that when he is frightened of something, moving away from it for a while does a great deal of good." A little hand experimentally touched mine. When I didn't pull away, he gently took two of my fingers (just about all he could hold I suppose) and tried moving me.

"Dobby can run the young master a bath. Dobby knows how to use the faucet so that the water is not too hot and not too-"

"Don't patronize me! I know how to run a damn faucet!" I backhanded the presumptuous little creature. As small as he was, his little body hit the floor and bounced. "I know how to clean myself! I'm not a wild animal or a disgusting rat person!" Wormtail was a part of this charade too, so I wouldn't spare him. I traded my fear for anger and didn't care who knew. "I don't need to be supervised by someone without even half the wit of the servants either!" The lights on the wall and chandelier were beginning to flicker. "And I should be able to take a damn walk outside for a few minutes without having a search party sent after me like a missing toddler!" The lights were blinking rapidly when I lowered my voice. "What's so damn wrong with me that I can't have anything at all I want? You asses won't even let me die. Just please, let me die…"

Wormtail didn't try and stop me from crying. Maybe he was scared, or maybe somewhere in his twisted mind, he understood.

Now, sitting in Voldemort's lavish bath surrounded by warm water and thinking about my fit, I'm ashamed of myself. Voldemort gives me everything I need. His words from several nights ago cross my mind. "You've got a good life here, with me."

I sigh and look over at the death eater assigned to watch me while Wormtail's gone. Ever since my drowning attempt, I've not been allowed to bath without supervision. It stopped being awkward faster than you'd think.

Fenrir Greyback was a very large and intimidating man so you can see how sparking up a conversation with him might be worrisome. Especially when I'm naked in a bath and he's whittling a shank with his teeth.

"Is it true you're a werewolf?" I never claimed to be subtle.

"Is it true you've tried to kill yourself fifty times?" Neither did Greyback. I huffed a bit at the exaggeration but decided to play his game.

"No. I've not tried to kill myself fifty times. You're turn."

"I am a werewolf. Why, interested in the lifestyle?"

"Ah, that answers my second question already. I'd heard you were a pedophile and then thought 'why would they leave a creepy were-pedo to watch a minor bathe?"

"To keep the puny human from drownin' himself again," Greyback growled through some facial expression I'm sure he thinks is a smile. I lowered myself into the tub so that my mouth and nose were underwater, but I could still watch the werewolf over the edge. "Call it whatever you like. If it's pedo to change em' early on and grow em' up strong, that's fine. You humans and your titles."

I thought about it for a while, but the only werewolf I knew was Greyback so when I thought of were-kids, I just pictured short little Greybacks running around. It was an entertaining albeit disturbing thought process.

"I don't blame you actually. For trying to drown yourself, and I see your wrists too. I can't say I blame you. I've never liked cages myself either." Greyback stood up and threw my towel on the table beside the bath. "Come on, get out. I've got things to do."

"Wait, I'm not in a cage!" I tried to argue but he was already gone.

Yes you are! Let me out! Let me die or let me out!

"I'm not in any cage. I could leave, but why should I? Voldemort is here. I'm safe here. There's nothing else and nobody who would want me."

Just keep lying to me. You're lying to yourself and that's stupid because you know you are.

"I'm here for a reason."

Voldemort's play toy.

"It won't last forever. I'll leave someday."

I've tried to die here five times already.

"Something is going to happen. Just wait it out. You're a pureblood, born, bred, specifically to serve Voldemort." I bury my face in my pruned hands and groan.

His words, my mouth.

A glorified lap dog.