The bedroom was incredibly dark and Voldemort wondered why the house-elves had allowed the fire to burn itself out. With a huff he stood and pulled out his wand, whispering a Lumos so as not to wake Harry. He held the light high above his head and squinted into the darkness. Still unable to see anything, he poured more magic through his wand causing the light to grow.

And still there was nothing.

A strange gray halo hung around the light from his wand and beyond that there was only dark. He quickly turned toward the bed, reaching with his free hand, but once again found nothing.

"Severus!" He called out, but heard no reply. "Harry!" Still no reply. For a moment he wondered if he'd suddenly gone blind, but that couldn't be. He could still see himself; it was the rest of the world that had gone missing.

Hesitantly he took a step forward, having the odd feeling that he was standing at the edge of an abyss. He took another step and stopped to listen for any noises that might give him a clue as to where he was. There was no sound. Even his steps made no noise.

Spells and curses raced through his mind. Surely there was some kind of magic that could help him, but nothing came to mind. He poured more magic into his wand and the light grew to an unearthly brightness. A slight movement just at the edge of the light caught his attention and he took a step forward.

"Is someone there?" He questioned loudly.

He aimed his wand out in front of him only to have the light reflected back into his eyes. Thoroughly confused now, he slowly continued on, finally coming to a stop when he saw familiar red eyes staring into his own.

"A mirror," Voldemort chuckled as he stared at his own reflection. It was a mirror he recognized from his days at Hogwarts, the Mirror of Erised.

Standing directly in front of the mirror, he stared at his reflection with great curiosity. When he'd been in school the mirror had shown him his heart's desire and for the most part, it had all come true. He was immortal and powerful, just as he'd always wished.

He stared at his reflection, watching in horror as his face began to morph into something hideous. His eyes became slitted like a snake and his skin as pale and white as tissue paper. The reflection grinned evilly at him and he took a step back. The reflection took a step forward, and then another and another. Voldemort held out his hand, readying himself to cast wandless magic if need be since his wand was needed to keep the light.

"What's wrong?" His reflection questioned sarcastically. "This is what you truly desire."

"No," Voldemort stated assuredly. "Never."

"But why? I can show you power beyond your wildest dreams. The world will truly fear your wrath."

Voldemort halted his retreat and stood straight. "I already have power. I am already feared. There is nothing you can offer me."

The reflection hissed angrily, reminding him of Nagini when she was angry. "You've grown soft. You are no longer feared as you once were."

That caused him to pause for a moment. Perhaps his reflection was correct. There was a time when witches and wizards shook with fear at the mere sound of his name. But that was before he killed Dumbledore and took over the Ministry of Magic.

"I no longer need to be so feared," he argued. "I'm a ruler now. I only wish for respect."

"Respect," his reflection growled angrily, "What good is respect? Will respect keep them from rising up against you?"

Voldemort shook his head. "This is not real. You are not real."

"But this is what you desire," the reflection said in a seductive tone. "True power, true evil… Kill the boy and no one can stand against you. He is the only one who can destroy you. Neither can live, while the other survives."

"No!" Voldemort shouted while casting a blasting curse.

The curse flew straight through the apparition and then it was gone and Voldemort was left staring at his true reflection. A hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder and he turned quickly, but there was no one there.

He turned back to the mirror and noticed the hand again. It was a man's hand and it shook his shoulder.

"Voldemort," a voice called out, "Voldemort."

Voldemort's eyes opened and then immediately snapped shut. There was a blinding light just on the other side of his eyelids and a howling wind rushed past his ears. A horrible feeling ran through him and his heart beat loudly in his chest.

"Nightmare?" An unfamiliar voice questioned softly.

He opened one eye slightly to see a blurry figure standing over him. "What? Who…"

"Let me help you up." A hand shot out and he took it gratefully.

"Harry?" He asked the question even though he already knew the answer. Somehow he knew where he was and what had happened, but at the same time, didn't know.

"Of course, who else would it be?"

Voldemort was finally able to open his eyes and look upon his surroundings. It wasn't a pretty sight. He seemed to be standing in the middle of a desolate plain with a few pathetic looking trees and bushes dotting the horizon. To his right stood a man that he didn't know, but did at the same time. It was an older, stronger version of his Harry.

"Harry, what has happened? Where are we?"

Harry shrugged. "I apparated us here last night. I'm surprised you don't recognize it." Voldemort gave him a questioning look. "I was feeling nostalgic so I took us back to Hogwarts…or I suppose I should say where Hogwarts once stood."

The Dark Lord's jaw fell open and his eyes widened in surprise. "But how? Why?"

"You're just full of questions, aren't you?"

Memories assaulted Voldemort's mind and he attempted to use Occlumency to make some sense of all the images and feelings rushing through him. There was fire and fighting and horrible screams.

"It all burned to the ground, all of it," he gasped.

Harry nodded sagely and then, to Voldemort's great horror, the boy burst into flames. "O, it looks like it's my burning day." The man laughed while his skin turned black. His grin fell away as his skin flaked off to fly in the wind.

"Harry! NO!"

Voldemort sat up with a start, a hand over his chest as he tried to catch his breath. It took him a moment to realize that his left side was quite hot.

"Harry!"

It was just like the dream, except this was real and a little boy lay next to him instead of a man. Still Harry burned just as he had in the dream, flames licking at his small body from head to toe. But the boy didn't turn black and his skin didn't melt away.

"Severus!" Voldemort shouted loudly, knowing that the man was most likely still working in his office. "Severus, get in here!"

The door flew open and Severus stalked toward the bed. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Voldemort was standing next to the bed, which was now on fire, and Harry Potter lay in the dead center of the flames. The Dark Lord pulled out his wand and began casting spell after spell, trying anything and everything to put the fire out.

"It's magical," Snape stated assuredly, "Cast at the bed and keep the fire from spreading."

Voldemort nodded and together the men brought the fire under control.

"I think this may have something to do with the phoenix," Voldemort contemplated aloud. "Perhaps Harry is having his own 'Burning Day' now."

The fire continued to dance around the boy, but Harry showed no signs of distress. Both men stood watch and both wondered when the fire would finally subside. And also, what would be left of Harry Potter once it did?

DSz

The sitting room wasn't overly warm, but still Arthur could feel tiny beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck. The past hours had been nerve-wracking. Not that Miss Fallow was anything less than an excellent host, but they had come to give the Dark Lord a bit of bad news. A task, which Arthur had to admit, he truly wasn't looking forward to carrying out.

"If you could have a house-elf show me to one of the guest bedrooms, I would be very grateful." Malfoy stood and attempted a convincing yawn.

It didn't fool Arthur though; he knew the man was merely excusing himself to snoop around the castle. It seemed Miss Fallow could sense the man's intentions as well.

"Of course Lord Malfoy," the woman replied kindly, "Nellie will show you to your room. I would advise that you call for her in the morning so she may lead you to the dining room. The castle can be a very dangerous place if one doesn't know their way around its dark halls."

Malfoy smile faltered for a moment before he nodded curtly at the woman and followed the elf out the door. Arthur smiled nervously from across the room, doing his best not to give to much notice to the way Sirius' tail wagged as Miss Fallow stroked the dog between the ears.

"Charming man," she stated in a sarcastic tone causing Arthur to nearly spit his Firewhiskey across the room. "Sorry about that."

Arthur waved off the apology. "Just wasn't expecting it, that's all." He paused to give the woman a curious look. "You're not the kind of person I expected to find here."

Miss Fallow's smile became knowing. "I can just imagine what you expected to find here. Torture chambers of some sort, I'm sure and trolls standing guard at every entrance, something like that?"

"Yes, something like that," Arthur replied with a grin, feeling more comfortable now. "I don't know if you realize who I am…"

"Arthur Weasley, patriarch of the Weasley family. Labeled as a blood-traitor, you were one of the few from the Order of the Phoenix spared from death due to your pureblood status." She paused to sip her tea. "You have seven children, six boys and one girl, a feat which has garnered you a bit of begrudging respect from certain circles."

Arthur scoffed at that. "I highly doubt that."

The corners of Miss Fallow's eyes wrinkled as she laughed. "Well I certainly have a great amount of respect for anyone who can handle seven children. One is quite enough work, thank you very much."

His ears perked up at her comment. "How is young Mr. Potter doing?" He questioned, attempting to keep himself from sounding too curious. It might be considered suspicious.

"Harry's doing very fine," Miss Fallow replied with a faraway look. "He's a mischief maker though, that's for certain. And when the two of them get together." She waved her hand in front of her face and shook her head.

"The two of them?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"The Dark Lord," she clarified. "The two of them get into all kinds of trouble. I swear he would let Harry fly to the moon on a dragon if the boy got it in his mind to try."

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you saying that the Dark Lord…I…I don't understand."

"Most people wouldn't." She patted the big, black dog lying at her side. Arthur rolled his eyes slightly when he noticed Sirius had fallen asleep. "Tell me about your children Arthur."

Like any proud father, Arthur was happy to discuss his children's' triumphs and troubles. He told her all about Bill's rebelliousness and Charlie's obsession with dragons. She laughed heartily when he spoke of his twins and their love of pranks. There was a warm smile on her face when he bragged of his son Percy and how the boy always cleaned his room and did his chores without complaint.

"Ron is about Harry's age," he stated, "A bit of a troublemaker, but I believe he just wants the attention."

"With so many brothers its no wonder he'd feel left out," Miss Fallow commented. "And your daughter?"

"She's a year younger than Ron. That one's a real firecracker." Arthur grinned. "Anytime her brothers are up to something, she's right there in the mix."

Miss Fallow stretched her arms out in front of her and leaned back in her chair. "How wonderful," she sighed. "A house full of children." Her faced suddenly took on a distressed expression and she doubled over.

"Miss Fallow!" Arthur exclaimed. "Miss Fallow, are you alright?"

Arthur stood to go to her, but she held a hand out to stop him. Harsh coughing escaped her, causing her whole body to shake and her eyes to water. Nellie, the castle's head elf, appeared with a large glass of water. The elf stood next to Miss Fallow with a pained expression on its aged face, but remained quiet until the coughing subsided.

"Mistress, Nellie has brought you water." The elf held out the glass and Miss Fallow took it with shaky hands.

"Thank you Nellie," she said gratefully and took a small sip of water. "That will be all." The elf disappeared with a snap.

"Miss Fallow, are you alright?"

She nodded. "I am now. I'm very sorry about that. I've been a bit under the weather lately." Sirius let out a loud whine. "Yes, yes, I know what you think about the matter."

"How long have you been sick?"

She lost her composure for a moment. "For quite awhile, but nothing can be done."

"Surely a Healer could help you?"

"I've already been to a Healer," she explained, "and he couldn't help. You see Mr. Weasley, I'm a squib, which means I'm susceptible to muggle illnesses."

"Then a muggle doctor could help," suggested Arthur. "I know a few hospitals where they wouldn't ask questions."

She shook her head. "No, it's too late," she stated assuredly. A deep sadness welled in her eyes. "It's much too late," she reiterated.

DSz

Harry looked up at the familiar castle and felt a wave of relief rush through him. Home, he was finally home. Without thinking, he rushed inside and immediately began looking for Miss Fallow.

"Miss Fallow!" He called out. "We're home, Miss Fallow!" There was no response, so he kept right on searching. Perhaps she was in one of the rooms and couldn't hear him.

He raced toward the sitting room, Miss Fallow's favorite room of the castle, but skidded to a stop before opening the door. He looked to his left and to his right, and then looked behind him. Voldemort was nowhere to be found. He tried his best to remember how he'd gotten back to the castle, but could only remember Voldemort taking him into the forest.

A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and with great hesitance he pushed open the sitting room door, smiling at the sight that greeted him. Voldemort stood by the fireplace, a familiar sly grin on his face.

"Voldemort," Harry gasped with relief. "I couldn't find you."

Voldemort laughed heartily and lowered to one knee. Harry ran without hesitation to his outstretched arms, sighing as those arms wrapped him up in a fierce hold.

"I'll always be right here," Voldemort stated assuredly and squeezed him tighter.

A loud squawk drew both their attention. A beautiful golden bird flew over their heads and Harry stared at in awe. Voldemort's hold grew even tighter and suddenly he felt as if he could no longer breathe.

"You're hurting me," Harry whined, struggling weakly.

Voldemort's grip didn't waver and when Harry looked up at the man he saw a strange expression on the man's face, one he'd never seen before. The Dark Lord looked afraid.

"Are you scared of that bird?" He questioned in confusion.

"It means to keep me away from you." Voldemort looked down at him with wild eyes. "Don't let it Harry, please don't let it burn me away."

The bird swooped lower and lower. Harry could feel heat coming from the strange creature and he bit his lip worriedly. Surely a bird couldn't burn someone up, could it?

Suddenly the bird let out a shriek and landed on the Dark Lord's back. Voldemort's face contorted as it dug its claws through his robes and into his skin. Harry watched in horror as the bird burst into odd colored flames. He tried to push away from the fire, but Voldemort held him fast.

"Don't let it burn me away," the man pleaded as the flames made their way over his robes.

"I don't want to be burned!" Harry shouted as he struggled against the Dark Lord's grip. "How can I stop it? What spell can stop it? What can I do?"

"Stay with me."

"But it will burn me too."

Voldemort shook his head. "No, it will only burn me."

"Why?"

"It wants to keep us apart. Don't let it Harry! Don't let it keep us apart!"

The Dark Lord was acting in a way Harry had never experienced before. Usually it was Harry counting on Voldemort to keep him safe, but now Voldemort was counting on him and he wouldn't let the man down.

"I won't let you go," Harry stated stubbornly. "Go away you stupid bird," he growled and glared at the flaming bird. "Go away and leave us alone."

The flames licked at his face, but he didn't back away. Even when the fire engulfed them both and he could feel the heat of it, he still didn't back away and he didn't let go. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the feel of his magic thrumming in time with Voldemort's own. The Dark Lord let out a low keening noise and Harry scooted as close to the man as possible.

"Can you feel my magic?" Harry shouted over the roaring flames.

"Yes," Voldemort gasped, his voice tinged with pain.

"Think about that," Harry urged, "Don't think about the fire, just feel my magic." The fire grew higher and Harry was now burning along with the Dark Lord.

Voldemort's eyes flew wide and he attempted to push Harry away, but Harry wouldn't budge. "Go Harry," he urged. "I was wrong, it's going to burn us both."

"I won't leave you!"

"It will destroy us both!"

Harry shook his head before burying it further into the man's chest. "I'm not letting it take you away from me. I won't let anything take you away from me."

"Wake up Harry!" A voice shouted in the distance.

"Wake up Harry!" Voldemort repeated.

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"Wake up Harry!"

The fire disappeared and his eyes opened wide. He looked around him and realized that he was no longer in the sitting room at the castle. Instead, he seemed to be in the Dark Lord's private quarters at Hogwarts and for some reason he was sleeping on a bed that had been burned black. The charred blankets caused Harry to shiver in fear.

"Harry," Voldemort sighed in relief.

Harry watched him cross the room and wondered if he was still dreaming.

"What happened?" He asked in concern. "Why are we in the school? We were just in the forest, weren't we?"

Voldemort slowly sat down next to him on the bed. "I did a spell in the forest and it didn't go quite as planned."

"What kind of spell?" Harry's brow furrowed.

"One that will bind us together forever," Voldemort explained. "Now I'll always be with you and nothing can keep us apart."

Harry sat up and cautiously reached out to the man. Voldemort immediately lifted him onto his lap. Harry looked to the ceiling nervously, wondering if that horrible bird would suddenly appear.

"What are you looking at?" Voldemort questioned, eyeing the ceiling curiously.

"There was a bird," Harry explained, "and it tried to burn us up."

"In your dream this happened?"

Harry nodded. "It was awful. It wanted to burn you away and I held on tight, but it kept burning us." He clutched at the man's robes fitfully. "It was awful," he whispered as the pain of that moment hit him with great force. "We were both burning away to nothing."

Voldemort squeezed him tight. "It was only a nightmare Harry. We'll always be together," he stated forcefully. "I promise that nothing will ever keep us apart."

A strange warmth rose up inside Harry and the bad dream moved farther into the back of his mind. Soon it would be forgotten forever, as all nightmares eventually are.