Here's an update! I know it's pitifully short, and I apologize, but at least it's something, right? Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and everything!

Harry trembled, his breathing quick and erratic. Part of him wanted to lean into the soft touch, his nerves leaping in excitement at human contact for the first time in five years. Another part of him was disgusted, shuddering with revulsion and the need to withdraw as far as possible.

His body froze, but his mind was frantically trying to come up with something, anything. His scar was burning fiercely, breaking his attempts at concentration. His shoulders trembled, his hands shaking with minute tremors.

He moaned, half in ecstasy and half in pain, hating himself for showing weakness and yet unable to resist any longer.

Voldemort smirked lazily and placed a hand on either side of Harry's head, drawing the boy towards him slowly. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead, smiling to himself as Harry twitched uncontrollably and slumped backwards against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked in a breathless voice as soon as Voldemort pulled away, falling all the way to the floor as his limbs abandoned him.

"I'm conquering you, Harry." Voldemort smiled at the confused look on the boy's face, reveling in his victory. "I'm going to break you apart into so many pieces you won't know what is what. And when I'm done, I'm going to put you back together again however I please."

Harry giggled. "Harry Potter sat on a wall," he declared solemnly, emerald eyes impossibly wide. "Harry Potter had a great fall. Voldemort and all of his men couldn't put Potter together again!" He clapped his hands together joyfully, grinning with pride at his rhyme.

"Harry," Voldemort warned in a low voice, eyes narrowing at Harry's sudden shift, "pretending to be insane will not save you."

"Yes master!" Harry agreed, throwing himself against the floor so hard that Voldemort could hear his bones snap. "Anything you say master!"

Voldemort scowled darkly, kicking at the prostrate boy. "This isn't at al satisfying, Potter. I have no desire to see you kow tow for me when you have no idea what you're truly doing." He kicked at Harry again, glaring as the boy immediately scurried away and began humming to himself in the corner.

"I have to find a way to return his sanity," Voldemort mused aloud, watching Harry's antics intently.

"Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done?" Harry sang quietly, hands moving in an intricate dance in time to the ditty, "You're killing off students you think it's good fun!"

"I know you're in there, Harry. You're just hiding from me, aren't you?" Voldemort supported his head with one hand, leaning forward to observe Harry more closely.

"Harry, Harry, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With Whomping Willows and painful Crucios and Death Eaters all in a row."

Voldemort stood up and cautiously took a step forward, breathing silently. Harry didn't notice him at all.

"Weasley is our King! Weasley is our king! He can not guard a single ring; Weasley is our King!"

Voldemort moved closer.

"Harry Potter sat on a log, calmly eating his chocolate frogs. Down came a snake and fright it did make, killing off Potter's dog."

Voldemort was directly behind Harry now, and still undetected.

"Little Potter had a bird, had a bird, had a bird! Little Potter had a bird with feathers white as snow!"

Voldemort began snaking his arms forward.

"Followed him to war one day, war one d-" Harry's voice cut off sharply and he made a gurgling noise in his throat. Voldemort tightened his grip, pleased to feel Harry struggle against him.

"You effing bastard!" Harry squeaked with the last of his breath, kicking feebly.

Voldemort released him instantly. "Very good Harry!" he praised, patting the dark-haired boy on the head.

Harry gasped for breath on all fours, shuddering from the pain of Voldemort's touch and struggling to his feet. "What the hell do you think you're effing doing?"

"I'm proving that you're not truly insane. All you're doing is retreating inside yourself. And I'm not going to let you do that anymore. When I told you I was going to win, I meant it. You'll stay sane, but you'll wish you weren't.

Harry gulped, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him.

This time, there would be no escape.