When Harry awoke, it was dark and he was cold. Looking around he could barely see, his glasses had been removed and were nowhere to be found. What he could make out, though it was blurry, was that he was in a dungeon and it struck him as somewhat familiar. 'Am I back in Malfoy's dungeon?' Harry questioned himself, 'though it does seem different, perhaps someone else's dungeon?' Harry checked himself over, any wounds he had received during the final battle were still there, his knees hurt badly, checking them through the torn denim of his jeans, he could make out bloody grazes; his right knee was the worst. The rest of his body was stiff, probably from laying on the stone floor of the dungeon and the back of his head hurt like hell, he could feel a lump and dried blood coating his hair. He wondered how he got that one, 'I don't remember hitting my head on anything, perhaps Voldemort would know.'

He had no blanket and no pillow to rest his head on, so Harry gingerly sat up and positioned his body against the hard, cold stone wall of his cell. It was rough and uncomfortable, but he would survive. Harry let his mind drift; he could not remember anything after he had been knocked out. He hoped his friends Hermione and Ron were okay, where were they now? He needed to know. What of Dumbledore's Army and Neville who had taken charge? What about Luna and Ginny, what had happened to them? Or the rest of the Order? Harry placed his head in his hands and wept, they must all be very disappointed in him, maybe even thought him a traitor...he had honestly done what he had thought was best, he hoped he could shape the future into a better one. Harry had no idea how he was going to accomplish that however, he certainly could not do that from a stone cell.

Hearing footsteps and a metal door opening, Harry wiped at his eyes and tried to see who was coming. The blurred outline of a wizard came into view, Harry squinted his eyes to get a better look but had no luck; the wizard before him remained a black blob. The snide uppity voice he would recognise anywhere, it belonged to Mr. Malfoy.

"Ahh yes, Mr. Potter." Malfoy senior began, "We were notified that you had awoken." The black blob that was Lucius Malfoy seemed to raise his head as he stared hatefully down at Harry. Harry could not see the glare directed at him, he could feel it piercing his skin though.

"I am here to deliver you food and water," Lucius sounded displeased, he would rather be doing something much more fulfilling than this; he was not a house elf. However, the house elves were not to be sent to give the Potter boy anything; he had a dastardly history with the creatures. Next time, he would send his son down here. Mr. Malfoy produced a key, Harry assumed that was what it was, unlocked a metal food flap in the cell door and placed a plate and a glass of water there.

"What happened to my friends?" Harry croaked out, he could no longer keep the question in; he was desperate to know.

"In prison and that is all you need to know." Lucius' glare hardened, before he swept out of the dungeons; leaving Harry alone once more.

Harry got up from his spot next to the wall and made his way shakily over to the plate of food, he ignored it in favour of the cup of water; he was so thirsty. Harry downed it in one gulp, still parched he thought of more water and to his surprise the glass refilled, thank Merlin for small mercies. Harry grabbed the plate and sat back down against the wall, to examine the contents of his plate. There was two slices of bread, bits of potato and chicken. It was not much, but more than he had expected, he did the only logical thing here and made a sandwich. It was not tasty at all; it was dull and lacked flavour. 'Of course,' thought Harry sarcastically, 'you can't have prisoners too comfortable, can you?' Once Harry was finished with his food, he placed the plate back on the flap in his cell door. He kept the cup, as the water never seemed to vanish, which he was grateful for. Perhaps Voldemort had insisted on it, Harry thought, 'probably didn't want his horcrux dying of thirst.'

It was nighttime, it had to be, 'That's why it's so dark,' thought Harry or did his captor's feel it necessary to keep him in the dark? He supposed it did not matter, so Harry gently laid himself down on the floor and tried to get some more sleep; there was nothing else to do in here anyway. The first thing Harry noticed when he awoke the next day, well he assumed it was the next day, was that his plate was gone and a bowl had replaced it. Getting up to inspect what had been delivered, Harry stumbled, his right knee almost giving way beneath him.

Grasping the wall for support, he managed to hobble over to the bowl and found some plain porridge within. It mattered not what they had given him, it was better than nothing. He ate his breakfast slowly; he was hungry, although he felt a little nauseous. Harry wondered why he was feeling sick all of a sudden or had the symptoms been creeping up on him? He shook his head tiredly, he desperately wished for a real bed; it would certainly beat having to sleep on the hard floor each night and he would actually get some rest. Perhaps he was getting ill from not having a blanket to keep him warm or it could be his right knee, since it hurt terribly and had not been healed. There was also another thing; he really needed to use the loo.

He waited for what felt like forever, it was probably on a few hours for someone to come down and visit him. Harry heard the telltale approach of someone, it was not Lucius Malfoy this time; the walk sounded lighter somehow, it was another dark shaped blob. Harry waited for the person to speak so he could identify them; the blob sighed and appeared to lean against the wall in the hallway leading to Harry's cell.

"So Potter..." The blob was Draco Malfoy then, "Are you going to give me that bowl so I can take it back upstairs?"

"Oh right the bowl," Harry responded, he was feeling a little light-headed; however he managed to pull himself up from the floor and placed the empty bowl back on the flap.

"I hate to ask this, Potter," Malfoy drawled, "Are you okay? You don't look so good." Harry could not tell if Malfoy was mocking him or if he was genuinely concerned. He chose to respond anyway, he would have been embarrassed to ask before, however, needs must.

"Umm...I could really do with a toilet," Harry said quietly, he too was now leaning against a wall, only for support, his right knee was refusing to cooperate. "And I don't feel like using the floor, since I have to sleep down there."

"Oh...Umm..." Draco's eyes widened, he felt his mouth go dry, 'what am I supposed to do here?' He thought quickly, he could retrieve a wash bucket; yes, that is what he would do. There was no way he was going to let Potter out of the dungeons, the Dark Lord would kill him and probably both of his parents. He could not even use magic down here either, not without his Lord's express permission. "I'll be back." He told Potter, and speedily left the dungeons. Harry waited for about five minutes before the blonde descended into the dungeons once more, he was carrying a brown blurry object.

"I found a wash bucket you can use," Malfoy told Harry, "I spelled it so that whatever goes in vanishes. That's all I can do for you."

"That's great," Harry, replied appreciatively, he squinted at the other boy, "Thanks."

"Don't move Potter," Malfoy commanded quietly, he did not need anyone to be alerted to the fact that he was going to unlock the steel bar door to Potter's cell; he would be skinned alive.

"I don't plan on it," Harry replied, clutching at his shirt; he wanted Malfoy to hurry up so he could relieve himself.

Draco produced the key his father had given him earlier; his father did not want to visit the dungeons and so had given the task to tending to Potter's meals to him. He could not bring himself to be unnecessarily cruel to the other boy, once upon a time, he would have, when they were somewhat innocent and back when there had been no Dark Lord residing in his home. Now, he no longer felt the desire to do so; this war had taken a lot out of him and in here, Potter was harmless. He unlocked the door to the cell, slid the bucket in and then hurriedly relocked the door.

"There," Malfoy stated, it was all he could do after all, "I hope that helps."

"I'm sure it'll do the job just fine, thanks again." Harry replied and then gave Malfoy a pointed look in his direction.

"Oh right," mumbled Draco, he could feel his face heating up. He grabbed the empty bowl, "I'll see you later." He then left the dungeons without another word, leaving Potter to attend to his needs.

After using the wash bucket to relieve himself, Harry decided that he would take another nap; he really was not feeling well, his head was starting to pound something severe. He had no idea why he had not told Malfoy about that, it was a trust issue he supposed. Lying down on the cold floor, Harry drifted in and out of weird dreams. He sat up later that night when Malfoy came back with his dinner and thanked him when he retrieved it. He watched the back of Malfoy disappear, then tried to eat his meal; there were peas, mashed potato and something he could barely make out.

However, he was suddenly overcome by the most intense nausea. Harry reached for the bucket and vomited up the entire contents of his stomach, he retched a few more times as his body began to shake uncontrollably. 'What's going on?' thought Harry, his mind feeling fuzzy; his heart was also beating very quickly. He desperately needed help; he could barely breathe let alone speak. Harry did not have enough energy to call out, so he threw everything he had at the connection between him and Voldemort. He visualized in his mind banging on a door frantically, the door that connected his mind with the Dark Lord's. He was about to give up, thinking that Voldemort must be occluding against him when the door was wrenched open violently from the other side.

"Potter," Voldemort's loud voice sounded inside Harry's head. "Will you cease the incessant banging?" The Dark Lord was furious; Harry could feel that in waves.

"Help! I need help." Harry yelled into the Dark Lord's mind, "I think I'm dying!" He then pushed everything his body was feeling through the link and heard a gasp back as Voldemort felt all that he did. A trickle of demented emotions came through their connection and the link snap closed, Harry blinked slowly as chills went down his body. He hoped Voldemort arrived on time as he collapsed on the stone, his breaths shuddering inside his chest.

Distantly, he heard the metal of his cell door banging open. Felt the fleeting panicked emotions of a man, 'because Voldemort was a man wasn't he?' Harry thought, 'beneath the monster, behind the Dark Lord; there was a man and his name was Tom.' Harry's last thought as he was lifted up into the arms of the Dark Lord was that he would bring Tom back into the light or at least try, so that the world they lived in would, could be better than what they currently had.