-o-Chapter 4-o-

Exhausted, but nonetheless very pleased with himself, Harry strode through the door into Voldemort's manor. He supposed it was already known that he had left the Death Eater's headquarters, which was why he didn't even bother to cast an invisibility spell on himself again. Instead, he tried to clean his robes - after all, he didn't want the blood marring it - but to his dismay none of the spells he tried worked.

The black-haired wizard frowned. Even magic had its boundaries, it seemed, as the dark red just didn't vanish. But he wouldn't try again; it wasn't as if clothes weren't replaceable.

So it wasn't a surprise that he earned many looks, as he entered the foyer. Surely he was interesting to look at, his robes stained with blood, his expression murderous. But Harry didn't even acknowledge the Death Eaters that loitered in the hall; he just went to his room, pleased when he saw that the monitoring spell had not (yet) been replaced.

Stretching, he divested himself of his robes, which probably wouldn't get clean anymore. Merely one moment later they disappeared from the floor, without doubt because of a house-elf.

The other parts of clothing left his body when he had entered the bathroom. Warm water pearled over his skin, soothing his frazzled nerves and the overworking thoughts in his head. Only the monotonous dripping allowed him to relax, which he didn't let himself do nearly often enough.

Harry revelled in the feeling the water on his body caused. He could almost see it in front of his inner eye… the impureness was washed away, flushed down the drain, as was the guilt and the self-hate. He closed his eyes, didn't dare look at his own body, his arms, lest it come back.

Quietness settled into him, and with it came the pleasant numbness he craved.

But nice feelings couldn't last forever, and Harry knew that. Almost regretfully he left the shower, dried his body, put on his clothes. They felt heavenly against his skin, too good; he wasn't worthy enough to wear clothes as expensive as these had surely been. The thoughts were squashed. He didn't want them; he didn't need them.

Sighing quietly, he left the bathroom and was immediately reminded of where he was, as the Dark Lord had waited for him in his bedroom. Obviously he was… very angry... if the dangerous gleam in the red orbs was anything to go by. They seemed to be so hard… so very angry, but even though he knew he should be intimidated, he was nothing but a bit curious as to how the man would react.

"Who do you think who you are? Do you believe you can just walk in and out, as you want? I told you to stay in these rooms!" Voldemort said harshly, getting up and looking down at him, "I am the Dark Lord!"

"Oh, really?" Harry started, his voice marked by calmness, "I would have never known that had you not told me. But I won't let myself be imprisoned in here! Not even from the 'oh-so-big-bad-Dark-Lord'! And one more thing, I don't like to be watched over, not even by a spell. Who do you think who you are? We made an agreement and I can't remember to have agreed to accepting everything you say and over all, acting like some sort of pet!"

"I think you are overestimating your worth, if you think you can talk to me like this…" Voldemort told him coldly and at that moment pain flared up in Harry's scar; something he had thought to be rid of, thanks to his wall. But now the unexpected burning brought involuntary tears to his eyes, his feet buckled and he had to concentrate on keeping standing, so he couldn't see that Voldemort was closing in on him.

Only when one of the long fingers touched this chin with mocking gentleness did he notice how close the Dark Lord really was. He wanted to try to get away, but he didn't have enough time to act on his thoughts, because the finger wandered up his cheek and with the closeness to his scar the pain sharpened. An almost pathetic sounding whimper came from his mouth, not because he didn't want to scream or held it back, but because that was the only thing he was capable of anymore. He couldn't move, his body seemed to be paralysed, had he tried to get away from Voldemort, not even that would have been possible at that moment.

But nonetheless he didn't ask for forgiveness.

In the meanwhile the pain had heightened so much that he almost couldn't feel it anymore. It was that moment when Voldemort seemed to notice that the pain wouldn't make him submissive, that it wouldn't cause him to become one of his little pets. The hand left him abruptly, almost as if he was something disgusting, something no one would ever want to touch.

"Where did you go, by the way?" Voldemort asked after some seconds, his voice sounding as if it was a question of no importance, while idly looking at his fingernails. He acted as if he hadn't just tortured a mere sixteen-year-old wizard just because he hadn't liked the way the boy had talked to him.

"Oh, I… visited a friend of mine." He answered calmly, while softly massaging his forehead and temples, trying to make the pain that was still lingering there go away. A creepy and for him completely unfitting grin overcame his face, while his eyes were… dead.

Voldemort nodded and turned toward the door.

"Good. If I were you, I would at least tell me if you want to leave the manor and not just go. Don't forget that I could always just kill you if I have the feeling that you are more of a burden than you are worth." It was an empty threat; Harry knew it as well as Voldemort himself. The man wouldn't want to give up seeing Dumbledore's face when he saw that his Golden Boy had turned dark.

Only seconds later the door closed with a barely audible click and Harry grimaced, looking to the entrance.

"I could always just kill you, if I have the feeling that you are more of a burden than you are worth…" he mimicked the Dark Lord and made a rude gesture toward the door. "Why don't you take your fucking threat and shove it up your ass?"

Harry had been intelligent enough not to say this when the man had been in the room with him, but now nothing could hold him back anymore. That damn megalomaniacal lunatic! Always did everything have to go as he envisioned it! Did he think that Harry had escaped Dumbledore's clutches, only to become one of his little chess pieces? Why hadn't he just told Harry that he didn't like the agreement as it was, when they had made it? Had he really thought that he would say no? That he would go back to Dumbledore, back to the manipulations? Back to the people that pretended to care, but didn't? Or had it been the challenge of continually lying to someone, playing something that wasn't real?

Why did everyone always think that he was nothing but a chess piece, something you could play around with as you liked? That could be sacrificed when the situation requested it? Or that could be laid aside and brought back when it was needed again, even if it was much later?

Sighing, Harry lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, and perhaps sleep a bit. The sun was already rising, but that didn't bother him; after all, he had been awake and on his feet almost the whole night. So it wasn't really a surprise that he was so tired. He had spent much magic and with that also energy on one of his ex-best friends, so…

He wasn't even able to work on his 'wall', as his eyes just proceeded to fall shut, and in the end he fell into the endless abyss of what was called sleep without being able to do anything against it.

-o-

It was noon when Harry awoke. He assumed it had been the smell of the food, which had just appeared, that had awoken him. So Voldemort still didn't want to let him out of his room, if he could avoid it…

The green-eyed teen snorted snidely. What should that be good for? Had he not proven already that he would not run back to Dumbledore? What was the Dark Lord afraid of, then? That he would usurp him or something? That he would snatch the power away? Oh, please…

Another sarcastic sound. Voldemort seemed to suspect in everyone someone that wanted to take the power away from him. Really, that could be called power complex, couldn't it? The red-eyed man was even stronger than Dumbledore, so what had he to fear? Okay, surely the dark rituals had been one cause for the Dark Lord's strength, but the man had always been very powerful, as much as he knew.

Harry let his thoughts wander, as he put the fork onto the plate, both of which disappeared without a second of hesitation. The involuntary question - how many house-elfs worked in this manor - presented itself to him, as something like this always worked so quickly. But then he shook his head over his own silly demeanour. Why did that interest him at all? He really had too much time, it seemed.

Deciding that he wanted to see how far he could go till Voldemort had enough, Harry left his rooms and just started to stroll. Of course he didn't fail to notice that the Death Eaters really acted somewhat as if it was their leader walking there, instead of him. But also the speechless and sometimes even shocked stares didn't fail to be seen by him. So they hadn't really believed Voldemort, when he had told them that Gryffindor's Golden Boy now lived in the manor.

Both the fear and respect he was treated with left a strange feeling of satisfaction in him. Even if he knew just too well that it was but a farce, that Voldemort hat told them to do this, he couldn't help but like the superiority he started to feel.

After about an hour of just walking around in the manor he decided that it was time to return to his rooms. He hadn't once been talked to by someone; he had not even felt pain in his scar, so Voldemort didn't seem to be angry at him. Perhaps he had decided that it wouldn't do any good if he kept him imprisoned any longer. That it would destroy Harry's 'trust' in the man.

The green-eyed teen snorted, which caused some startled stares from the Death Eaters to be directed at him. He himself ignored the gazes and acted as if nothing had happened. As if he would ever even think of trusting Voldemort. Even the consideration of that was nothing but laughable.

Behind him the door slammed shut and without wanting to he flinched. Unlike other occasions, this time it was very visible and he cursed himself for his fear, and that he couldn't suppress it. It seemed he would never be able to forget, even for a short time, what had happened to him, what had been forced upon him. He would never forget… never forgive…

Unwillingly, his thoughts wandered into the past, back to things he hated, back to things that had lead him to become what he was now… He had been shocked when he had realized that his whole life had been planned by Dumbledore, or almost, at least. Maybe the things that had happened at the Dursleys had not been entirely intended, but the man had known that he would be mistreated when he had left him at their house, that he was sure of… Hogwarts had not been completely planned either. Voldemort had thrown his two Sickles in, now and then. But other than that… He didn't even know if his friends had been real. How could he identify, anymore, what was truth, what was lie?

A deep sigh came from him and an unpleasant prickling in his eyes started to make itself known.

Unwanted.

Suddenly the coldness seemed to enclose him, to almost choke him. Tightly, almost painful his hands buried themselves into the thick black hair, when he realized that a flashback was under way and closing in on him.

No. Nonononono.

Harry could almost feel the fat hands, the panic that had held him tightly in its grasp at that time.

Freak.

Knocking. It forced him out of the lethargy he had been in and he was glad for whoever stood in front of the door.

"Yes?" he asked, hating how childish and helpless his voice sounded at the moment. It reminded of a kid that was lost in the dark and not of a wizard that would be seventeen in a few days. Another unpleasant side-effect of his flashbacks.

The door was opened and a very familiar person entered.

"Potter"

Immediately, the green-eyed teen growled. He hated that voice so much…

Damn, I wanted to update yesterday (on Friday), and then I forgot. Unfair, I had intended it to be uploaded on my birthday... and then there was so much to do, it left my thoughts. -sniff- Whatever, I hope the chapter was okay. :)

'Y know, because it was my birthday yesterday a review would be really nice... -hint-