Harry had never quite mastered the art of landing gracefully when it came to portkeys - so, unfortunately, as Severus Snape landed on his feet with his cloak billowing around him impressively, Harry crashed to the ground and caught himself only on the stone wall beside them, barely managing to keep his balance. His glasses hit the ground and skittered away and he scowled and made to chase them, snatching them up and jamming them irritably back on his face. When he turned around, Snape had removed his wand and was pointing it at him, his face a complete mask of cold calmness.

"Sir?" Harry questioned indignantly.

"Realism, Potter, realism," he stated dryly, beckoning for him to walk further along the wall. Harry realised that they were positioned beside a massive building and at the thought of what lay inside it, his stomach dropped like a stone. "And while we happen to be on the subject, please try and keep any thoughts of my involvement in the Order to the back of your mind - lest it prove disastrous for us both."

Harry scowled at what he considered to be a selfish request, but he had far more important matters on his mind currently. His palms were sweating rather profusely now and, to his horror, he noticed that he was beginning to shiver slightly despite the mild temperature outside. He pressed his fingers to his sides as he walked, determined not to show any sign of fear despite the fact that bile was rising threatening in his throat. It was really hitting him now, what he was getting himself into - what he had just thrown himself head first into. He was half-tempted to run - to just turn and run, anywhere away from here. But when he thought of Hogwarts being attacked - Ron, Hermione and Ginny all clearly in the firing line - it made his step that little bit more purposeful. He was doing something useful here. It was all he could do. But then there was the question of how Dumbledore had known that Lord Voldemort wouldn't kill him. Why shouldn't he? One simple curse, and Harry was no longer a throat. But Dumbledore had been so certain. It wasn't like Harry to doubt Dumbledore, but he could not help but do so now. He felt irritated, angry even - surely he had deserved more of an explanation? But these were irrational feelings now and it was far too late to do anything. He had made his decision, and now - now he must see it through.

He started as Snape made a noise to indicate that he should stop and realising that they had reached a door in the stone. Snape stood in front of Harry and tapped it once with his wand. Harry started as the doorknob began to unfurl and he realised that it had been in the shape of a coiled up snake. It bared its fangs and like a sick, prerecorded message, it hissed in clear English,

"State your identity."

"Severus Snape."

The snake, although metal, bizarrely seemed to look at him closely before it retreated back into its previous shape. Harry watched it, feeling unnerved as Snape then took ahold of it and twisted, pushing the door open and gesturing with his wand that Harry should go first. Harry glanced at him - he was staring down at him with his black eyes expectantly, almost daringly, as if he was expecting the boy to run.

He didn't.

He stepped over the door and into what seemed to be a large hall - something like the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts, but smaller and far colder. It was dark and undecorated, with a staircase twisting up the right hand side, leading to rooms that Harry didn't particularly want to ponder. The room itself seemed to crackle with a dark aura, no doubt dark magic - and Harry had never felt more out of place in his entire life. "Where from here?" he asked, and he realised that his throat was dry - although his voice remained thankfully, miraculously steady.

"We wait right here."

For a few moments, they stood in silence and Harry chanced a glance or two at his 'captor'. He remained completely emotionless, but his skin seemed tinged grey, curiously enough. Merlin, if Snape was worried… Harry's eyes flickered down to the floor and he found it easier to focus there for a moment. He wondered if Ron and Hermione would have been alerted to his whereabouts, what he had chosen, or if they would be lied to. He wasn't sure which he would prefer and was secretly somewhat glad he had not been presented with that decision - let Dumbledore decide what to tell them. Let Dumbledore decide what was best, because he was older and wiser and Harry had to concentrate on the present. It wasn't long before there was a noise - a door opening at the top of the staircase and fear tied his stomach into a knot as he forced himself to look up, Snape glancing up too.

But it wasn't Lord Voldemort who descended.

Lucius Malfoy was first to come down the stairs, his blonde hair flowing and an eagerness in his eyes. He looked as refined as ever, head held high - although were those some dark shadows there? - and to Harry's utter shock, but proving all of his theories that had been dismissed right, Draco was walking behind him. He was looking at Harry with a strange expression - it was smug, but it was disconcerted. Harry's jaw clenched in anger.

"Ah, Severus! Good, good, the Dark Lord will be along any moment," Lucius stated almost pleasantly as he approached them. His eyes flickered to Harry, whose hands had balled into fists at the thought that Draco Bloody Malfoy was a Death Eater. "I see he chose to come then."

"As the Dark Lord knew he would," Severus replied and Draco looked quite incredulous that Harry hade made this decision on his own. Lucius, meanwhile, was looking at Harry expectantly.

"Not particularly talkative, is he?" he sneered. "Perhaps he knows what awaits him… But then, if he did, would he have come? I wonder…"

Harry knew that Lucius was trying to get a rise out of him and he wished that he could rise above it, but he found it difficult to. He turned his eyes on the older man and narrowed them. "I would've came whatever's going to happen here. It's called loyalty - probably something you lot don't really know about."

Lucius's own eyes narrowed.

"I'd watch your tongue, boy."

His voice was intimidating, but Harry recklessly replied. "I don't think what I say's going to make any difference to what happens here, is it?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow but did not reply. Draco was glancing at his father almost nervously and it was obvious that Lucius was not someone that Draco considered it wise to talk back to. This only made Harry more irritated - how spineless. Lucius noticed Harry glancing at him and smiled, but it was hardly a pleasant expression.

"Ah, yes, my son. Inducted to the Dark Lord's ranks most recently - I could not be more proud."

Harry made a coughing noise that sounded more like a laugh and Lucius's eyes flashed dangerously. He made a move towards Harry - but before he could get any further, the door at the top of the stairs banged open with impressive force and before anything else could possibly happen, pain exploded in Harry's forehead. It was a burning sensation associated with his scar, and this had not happened since Lord Voldemort had blocked their connection. The pain was so intense that the ground rushed up to meet him as his knees collided with it and his palms were pressed forcefully over the lightning bolt in agony, face screwing up. His glasses had fallen off and he was barely aware of what was around him as his eyes watered in pain. He gasped, gulping down air as though it might relieve him of some of the pain - and from what felt like far away, he heard a cold, high-pitched voice that had haunted his nightmares since he was one.

"It is most amusing when I do not block our connection, Harry."

The pain stopped immediately after - Harry was left gasping, aware that everyone around him had backed away into the shadows of the room - except the newcomer. As Harry staggered to his feet, vision now blurred due to his lack of glasses, he looked up at the man in front of him and wished that he could do the same. Red eyes were staring at him, filled with malice and malevolence and every bad intention ever created. The man - no, the monster, was far taller than he, and skeletal fingers were gently caressing the wand that he held as though it was a living, breathing creature. He was staring intently at Harry, laughed softly as he staggered to his feet - knowing that it was valiant attempt not to seem weak. The air around the Dark Lord seemed static with magic and evil, a very dangerous combination - and although the pain had faded, Harry said nothing, filled with hatred and fury and fear that was over-whelming.

"Was Dumbledore upset to lose his favourite student to the Dark Lord?" Lord Voldemort whispered and he moved in one sudden motion - Harry flinched, but managed to stand his ground. But Voldemort wasn't approaching him. He was circling him like a hungry predator and Harry turned to face him as he moved, feeling too uneasy to allow himself to have his back to his enemy. "Did he know what you would choose? And he let you come anyway…" Voldemort tutted softly, smiling. "How horrific of him, Harry, how horrific."

Harry hated Voldemort calling him Harry. His given name sounded like a taunt rolling off thin lips in that high-pitched voice.

"You have the same look your father had when he faced me," Voldemort informed him. "That same, foolish, proud, defiant expression. Sickening, really. Such wasted courage when I was going to murder him regardless." Harry's fingers curled into fists so tight that his fingernails were cutting into his palms. "And then there was your mother… Not so brave, I'm afraid." He smiled, eyes glinting. "Barricading herself into your bedroom, pleading with me… Hardly a dignified end, I must -"

"She wasn't a coward!"

It was snarled, very suddenly, very violently - Voldemort stopped in his circling and took a step towards Harry, suddenly looking less calm than before.

"I do not appreciate being spoken to in such a disrespectful tone," he warned softly, but Harry was trembling with too much rage to care. He glanced towards the three that had backed away.

"Was he this disrespectful to his teachers, Severus?" he asked - but before there was a chance to reply, he added, "I imagine so - arrogant to the last, simply because Dumbledore has been filling his childish brain with notions about him being a prodigy of some sort." He turned sharply to face Harry again, who was glaring still. "You are nothing special, boy. I will prove that much. I will prove that much when you die and anyone that has ever tried to protect you follows. How must it feel to cause the death of every single person you have ever -"

But he got no further. Harry plunged his wand hand into his pocket and, in a blind rage, extracted his wand, which Snape had not taken from him. He pointed it but before he could utter or even think about a spell, Voldemort moved his own wand in a slashing motion and something invisible slammed into Harry's front, throwing him backwards across the room and smashing into the stone door which had closed behind them. He was dizzy, concussed, and his hair was matted and wet from blood where his head made contact with the hard rock. He made to struggle to his feet but before he could, he heard a dreaded incantation.

"Crucio."

A split second later, his body was on fire. He doubled over, writhed on the floor. His muscles contorted in ways that should not have been humanly possible as he tried to fight off the agony and forgot where he was, knew nothing but the agony of being stabbed a hundred times over in every nerve possible. He was screaming - awful, humourless screams that resounded around the walls as perspiration wet his face.

And then, it stopped.

It stopped and he rolled over and struggled to his feet, supporting himself on the door and listening to the soft laughter of Lucius and the excited, laboured breathing of Lord Voldemort - who was now holding his wand in his free hand.

"You forgot to take his wand, Severus, how foolish. But no matter, with or without it, he is no match for me…" A pause. "I imagine you are not used to seeing him like this in Potions class, Draco."

Harry, one hand on the back of his head to stem the flow of blood and one on the door to hold himself up, looked over at his school rival - but he could not make out the expression. Somehow, it didn't quite look like a smile, in any case. His eyes flickered back to his main concern at the moment, a dark look marring his features considerably.

"You do not want to experience that again, do you, Harry?"

If Lord Voldemort though that Harry was going to plead - or if he thought that he was going to receive an answer at all - then he was very much mistaken. Harry merely glared, wincing occasionally in pain and trying to ignore the trickle of blood through his hair and down the back of his neck. He was terrified now - absolutely petrified, because he was human - but as always, he would do his best not to show it, even if Voldemort knew. Voldemort could do what he liked, but he would not ever gain control over him. Never.

"Do you expect to die now?"

Voldemort's voice was soft again, almost curious. Harry merely stared.

"Because I do not intend to kill you quite yet."

There was no surprise whatsoever evident on Harry's face and Voldemort's own eyes narrowed dangerously. "You knew this. I can read it in your expression. Which means that Dumbledore is well aware of what you are." He glanced at Snape for confirmation, which he seemed to receive - and this news, completely over Harry's head, made him angry. But as he glanced back at Harry, who looked utterly bewildered, he seemed somewhat smug once more.

"Ah, Dumbledore knows why I cannot kill you quite yet and yet he does not entrust the information to you - you are a pawn in this game, Potter, portrayed as a white knight by Dumbledore, but merely a pawn nonetheless. You know nothing of your own fate, of what you are - and yet you dare stand there so defiantly. How ignorant."

Harry's head was reeling now, and not just with pain. He seemed uncertain for a moment, before he said,

"What?"

Voldemort smirked. "You must know, of course, that a part of me resides within you. I came to that conclusion last year. Therefore, when you escaped that graveyard in nineteen ninety-five, boy, you did me a favour. Had I cast a killing curse on you, I would have been casting it on a part of myself. But I am aware now… The only question is how to extract it from you." A pregnant pause, a deadly silence. "Because I will be wanting it back and you will only remain alive until I find out how to regain it."

Harry's heart sank and his stomach dropped to make room for it. Dumbledore had known this all along and hadn't seen fit to tell him? He hoped that Snape witnessed the doubt on Harry's face, reported back - Dumbledore should feel guilty for this. Harry had proved that he wasn't a child, that he could handle this - he had proved it time and time again, was proving it now. And still, Dumbledore had seen fit to keep secrets from him.

"Do you feel betrayed?"

It was barely above a whisper as Voldemort walked even closer towards him. Harry swallowed, feeling physically sick, but could not have backed away even if he wanted to, as he was already standing against the wall. Voldemort stopped inches from him and reluctantly, grudgingly, Harry looked at those crimson eyes that haunted him, gritting his teeth in anger and hatred, resisting the urge to attack him.

"Go to hell."

For a moment, Voldemort's eyes flashed and Harry thought that he was going to strike him, or lash out in some way - but after a moment, his anger subsided and he merely smiled.

"I am glad that you still hold that foolish pride. I have always wanted to be the one to rip it from you - and now, we will have so much time together. Isn't that wonderful, Harry?"

Harry, whose energy was now going into keeping himself standing since his legs were violently shaking after the cruciatus curse, did not reply this time.

"Lucius, Draco," Voldemort commanded suddenly, turning away from Harry. "Take the boy to the lower levels. If he demonstrates any displeasure with his new home, then restrain him in any way you see fit, but if he is caused any life-threatening damage by anyone other than me than you will suffer the consequences. Draco, I want you to take first shift of guarding him - we are taking no chances. Severus, I would like to speak with you."

As Lucius approached Harry, wand pointed, Draco in tow, Voldemort looked at him for the last time that night. He said nothing - but the way his nostrils dilated with excitement made Harry have to physically fight with himself to prevent him vomiting onto the floor and falling unconscious with nothing but sheer dread.

A/N: Voldemort is wonderfully fun to write, which is slightly worrying. But yes, the next chapter will be Harry and Draco interaction, so don't worry, I'll be getting into that soon. Review please. (: