"Little rabbit, come out." The man's voice was thick with worry. "It isn't safe out here!"

No, the boy thought. It isn't safe with you. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he ran, each step feeling louder than the last. This wasn't the first time he had tried to run; he knew where to go.

"Harry," the voice sounded again, and despite himself, the boy found himself wanting to run back to him. Harry knew he couldn't though. He wasn't some pet, not some rabbit.

"Little rabbit," the voice sang out a second time. Harry kept running, his feet thudding against the snow ridden fields. "I'm losing my temper."

He pressed his shaking hands into his eyelids, seeking relief. He was parched, the cold air filling his lungs was drying him out from the inside. He needed water, he needed a break. But one could only rest so long when running from Tom Riddle. Was this the right choice? Should he have been doing this?

Tom didn't sound too close behind. He was yelling, which meant that Harry had managed to make it deeper into the forest. He could stop, just for a moment. He just needed to catch his breath. Then he could keep running. Besides, for all of Tom's magic ability, even he couldn't walk silently across the snow.

Hopefully.

A rabbit hopped beside Harry, rubbing its cute little head in the snow. It noticed him, after a few moments, and scurried off under the bushes. He reached for it, wanting to pet the little creature. There were many rabbits in these woods, and Harry was a friend to all of them. It was why Tom called him rabbit.

Harry took a seat, gasping for air. The snow was cold underneath his bottom, and was soaking his thin pyjama pants, but Harry just couldn't stand anymore. He wasn't the most active child, thanks to Tom's intervention, and it seemed to be biting him in the ass.

When I get out of here, I'll become an athlete. Harry thought to himself, panting as he leaned his head against the tree behind him. The best athlete, no doubt about it.

A wicked part of him screamed that he didn't want to leave.

After a moment, Harry stood up, legs aching. He needed to get further away. If Tom caught him now, he'd die. Tom's only promise to Harry was to keep him safe, and to punish him when he misbehaved. Those were the rules Harry had been given when Tom had found him on the streets, oh, six years ago? He had provided for Harry since. But no matter what Tom said, magic wasn't right, It wasn't natural. Tom wasn't natural.

So, when Harry turned ten, he started running. Tom had caught him every time, but he never seemed mad. It was like a little game they had. Harry would run, and Tom would chase. Not this time. Harry was smarter now. He'd been doing this for two years, he knew all of Tom's little tricks.

The snow crunched under Harry's shoes as he ran through the forest again, dodging the trees as he went. He could feel his face sting from the freezing wind, and his legs were starting to ache harder than they had ever ached before. It felt like he had been running for hours, and he likely had, but he knew he couldn't stop now.

The sky was dark, the sun long gone, and Harry felt so alone, like he was the only person in the world. How deep was this forest? Tom had kept him hidden, sure, but how well? There wasn't a light in sight!

He pushed his legs to move faster, the snow biting into his skin with each step. He needed to rest, he knew that, but could he? Would Tom be able to catch up if he sat still for longer than a few moments? His body didn't care. On his next step, Harry gasped, falling to the forest floor. The snow did little to comfort his aching body. He needed to keep moving, he needed to keep himself far away from Tom Riddle.

But, it was so dark, so cold, the cabin was long gone. He could rest. Right? Well, it didn't matter if he could, his body demanded it.

With the little strength he had left, he dragged himself to a nearby tree. The trunk had enough room to curl up into. It wouldn't keep him warm, but it was solid. Hopefully, it would protect him from the predators in the forest. He could hear from the howling that wolves were nearby, but the only wolf he was wary of was Tom.

Harry let his eyes close, body shaking with every breath. His head lolled against the tree trunk, a piece of bark scraping his neck. If only it was enough to draw blood. Harry was craving something warm right now.

With how cold he was…perhaps his blood would be cold too. Harry curled in on himself, squeezing his eyes tighter. Just a little rest, just a moment.

Harry slowly drifted off to sleep, letting the sounds of the forest bring him to his peace. Just for a little, he just needed to sleep long enough to get his energy back, then he'd keep running.

When Harry woke up and felt something soft against his head, he knew he had failed. His body stilled in fear.

No, no, this wasn't, this, how did he, there's no way, I was so far ahead!

"Little Rabbit," a voice said, a hand stroking his head. "Quite an adventure you had."

For the first time in his life, Harry wanted to die.

"T-Tom…"

"Shh, Harry, no need to be afraid. I'm keeping you warm, after all. I'm not going to hurt you." The boy sat Harry up, slowly, running a soothing hand under his back. "Little Rabbit, you got so far. I must say, I'm proud of you."

After a few moments, Tom left the room to grab Harry something to eat. Harry released a breath. How had Tom gotten to him so fast? Unless he had been chasing him the whole time? Harry would have heard him! That didn't make any sense!

"Oh, my Harry, you seem so cold. Poor thing." Tom floated another blanket on top of him, and Harry shivered at the display of magic. It wasn't right. Tom shouldn't be able to do something like that! "Eat up, Harry."

Harry took the bowl, staring at Tom. Was it poisonous? Was this how Tom was going to punish him? By making him so sick he couldn't do anything but lie in bed? But…it smelled good, and Harry's stomach was growling with need. Plus, the bowl was radiating heat, warming his cold hands. Harry raised it to his lips, taking a sip.

"It's…good." Harry said, taking another. The broth was delicious, and the few chunks of carrot and meat that floated past his lips were chewy. It was good soup. "What is it…?"

Tom smiled, his grin sharp and ferocious. If Tom was a wolf, his teeth and jaw would be covered in blood. Harry shivered at the thought. Tom leaned down to kiss Harry's head, whispering in his ear.

"Are you sure you want to know, Little Rabbit?" Harry wasn't so sure anymore. Tom's breath was hot on his jaw, and he felt his neck start to sweat. "It's rabbit stew."

The bowl clattered from Harry's hand, hot stew pouring over him, the bed, and the floor. Tom smiled cruelly, not even bothering to wave his wand and clean it up like he usually did.

So this, this was his punishment. Harry felt sick.

"Sleep well, Little Rabbit," Tom said, voice as light as a song, as he flicked off the lights. The door closed, and moments later, the harsh click of the lock reverberated.

Harry was trapped once again. Harry shouldn't have run away, he knew that now. Hell, he knew that when he had first done it! Why couldn't he have stayed put?!

A wet tear rolled down Harry's face, burning his icy face. He looked down at the remnants of soup in his lap. That poor rabbit…

There could have never been any other ending, for in the end, the right choice had been obvious all along.