Disclaimers: Refer to the first page.
A/N: Thanks for your reviews. Just a warning - my chapters will be slow in coming. Please don't blame me. I have too many other things to take care of. Blame my school! And exam is coming! I want to cry. Anyway, on with the story.
The sunlight streamed in from the gap of the curtains, lighting up the otherwise dark room. There was only one word to describe the room: green. It was covered with every shades of green to ever exist – the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the doors and their frames, the bed cover, the curtains, and even the table and the chairs. Not an inch in this large room that was not green.
Harry's first thought when he opened his eyes was, 'Please let me be dreaming'. After several blinking of his eyes and a few painful pinches on different parts his body, he admitted defeat. Fine! So I am not dreaming and this the reality; can someone just come in and kill me off? I must be out of my mind to accept a total stranger's offer. He shivered as his thought turned to the incidents the night before. A Slytherin! What was I thinking? Perhaps not a Slytherin; but a Slytherin fanatic – that was sure – was worse.
Supporting his weight with both his hands on the bed, he pushed the upper part of his body up. Raising his left hand to comb his hair, he froze – he was wearing green pyjamas! It's emerald, the inner him corrected. "Emerald, jade, - what does it matter? It's still green!" he shouted at himself. He stared, horrified, at the clothes. "If Ron were here, he would probably Adavra Kedavra me." Would he? "Probably not. He would most probably just accuse me of becoming Slytherin and then sulk," he muttered.
"And what was wrong with Slytherin?" an amused voice interrupted his 'indulgence of self-conflict'.
Harry's head snapped up so fast that a small sound of 'snap' could be heard. "Ouch!" Grabbing onto his neck, he rolled off the bed, putting it between him and the newcomer.
"Are you alright? I did not mean to scare you," the concerned voice said.
"I'm fine. And I'm not scared of you," Harry replied defiantly. If he were not afraid of Voldemort, why should he be scared of this…somebody? He tried to move his head, wanting to take a look at the man, but another "Ouch!" later, he admitted defeat. Great! I can't move my head, I do not have my wand nor do I have a weapon; and there was a possible enemy in the room with me. What should I do now? As far as he could see without moving his head, there was nothing that he could use as a weapon. In fact, the room looked very tidy and clean; it was as if it had not had been slept in for a long time.
"Let me take a look at your neck," the voice offered, walking closer.
Stretching his arm out, Harry stopped him. "Don't move. I do not need your help. Like I said, I'm fine."
"Oh, really? Then why are you grabbing your neck as if it would smash into pieces soon? Not to mention, your cries of pain just now?" Once again the owner of the voice sounded amused.
Harry had nothing to say to that. "Just don't come near me. Who are you anyway?"
"I am me – the person that took you away from that Merlin forsaken place you call home," the voice answered, avoiding his identity.
"It's not my home. It's…just the place I stay in during summers. Hogwarts is my home," Harry denied vehemently only to be hurt by a snort of disbelief.
"Hogwarts is a school. It is home away from home."
"It is my home!" Harry was ready to argue this for the whole day if needed be.
"Then define home to me," the voice mocked.
"A place where you're happy and wish to stay in. A place where you're accepted," Harry answered with no hesitation.
"True. I'm sure that you have your happy moments there and like to stay there but can you really say that you are accepted there? Do all the students accept you? Do the professors treat and care for you like parents would? A home is also a place where you can return to anytime when you're unhappy. Can you do that?" Instead of mocking, the voice had become softer by the end of his speech.
Harry did not answer – he couldn't. Deep in his heart, he had always known this. "It's the only home I know," he whispered.
"You have a home here with me, that is if you accept it."
Harry was so surprised at the offer that he forgot about his neck. "Ouch!" The pain was triple the first time. He dropped to his knees, clutching it. Through the haze of pain, he could feel a pair of hands forcefully removed his hands. A few spells he did not recognize later, the pain was gone. He looked up at his saviour to thank him but froze. The face in front of him came right out of his nightmare - it was Tom Riddle from the diary! Due to his training from being a seeker, his quick reflex had acted before his mind could come out of the shock. He pushed hard and scrambled onto the back to the other side and to the doors.
Tom knew the moment his identity registered in his mate's mind. Before he could stop Harry, he found himself being pushed and fell onto his back, knocking his head on the floor. "Ouch!" He could see stars dancing around in the room. As his sight cleared, he clumsily got up of the floor. Nobody dared to treat him like that. Seeing as his wayward mate was still trying to force the doors to open, he said coldly, "Do you think I will leave the doors unlocked?"
"Voldemort!" Harry snarled. He stopped his useless attempt and turned back to meet the eyes of his enemy. "Congratulations! You managed to capture the 'stupid' Griffindor." How could I be so stupid? Now is not the time to berate myself. I need to find a way out. Think, Harry, think!
"It is definitely not a good idea to follow someone you do not know. Someone that broke into your house and your room, I might add." If he were an expressive person, he would just admit that he was worried – his mate was too trusting in his opinion, not that he wasn't happy that his mate trusted him before he found out his identity.
To Harry's ears it sounded mocking. Although he knew it was true, he just couldn't accept it when it came from the monster that killed his parents. "You're a hypocrite, you know - half-blood that calls for the killings of the so-called mudblood and half-blood. Why don't you just go kill yourself? It would have saved the rest of us a lot of troubles and pain."
Tom's eyes flashed red for a second at the reminder of his birth and the dirty blood that ran through his veins. His hands tightened into fists. He raised his wand, a painful curse on the tip of his tongue. However, at the insolent tilt of his mate's face, he was reminded once again that this was his mate – the person he had searched for so long. He forced his rage down and tried to reason with him. "Is this how you thank the person that rescued you?"
"I would rather live there for the rest of my life than to be 'rescued' by you!"
Hurt by the remark, Tom tried to cover it by lashing back. "Fine! Then you will be locked in here – no food, no company, and no freedom." He stalked over to the doors that were just behind Harry.
Harry backed away from the looming figure. When his back hit hard surface, he changed direction and moved sideway away from the approaching Dark Lord. He never turned his back to him yet he still jumped when Voldemort slammed the door after him. Only then could he let out a sigh of relief. Wait! He slapped his own forehead. I should have seized the opportunity and ran. Now the door would surely be locked again. Sure enough, the door was as stubborn as before. He tried everything he could think of to escape from the room – kicking the door repeatedly, throwing the chairs at the window, yelling obscenities at anyone that could hear him – unsurprisingly, none worked. In the end, he fell onto the bed and was soon asleep from exhaustion.
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On the other hand, Tom, who had stormed out of the room, had proceeded to the training room and flung every single nasty curse that he knew at the immobile objects. Even when he stopped due to exhaustion, the rage was still burning strong in him. However, it was not the fury that bothered him but rather the hurt that he felt. He had always had the illusion of finding his mate and living happily after he had found out about his inheritance. Although he knew that reality was not as pretty as that, he couldn't help but held onto the hope and the dream that there was somebody out there that was born only for him and that would love him unconditionally. He was disappointed when he realized that this was not true. The cutting words from his mate's mouth hurt more than the worst Cruciatus in the world.
After an hour of moping in private, he squared his shoulder. Nothing would beat him. Harry was his, and he would win him over. He was the worst Dark Lord the world had ever seen, after all. Besides, his Veela side would never leave him alone if he did not persuade his mate to accept the bond between them. Did anyone know how annoying a Veela could be when the matter involved its mate?
A/N: So how is this? I just do not want a story where Harry straight away fell into bed with Voldie so I'm dragging this out. Please give me feedback!