Malfoy Child

Hurt and Confused

"Harry Potter."

Harry knew Voldemort had him trapped. Looking around, he realized he was in Voldemort's version of a throne room. Harry knew the place and recognized it immediately because he'd seen it so many times in his visions.

Voldemort hadn't ever actually summoned Harry to this place, though. He planted visions for Harry, he taunted him in his nightmares, he knew Harry often witnessed things that happened there—but he'd never called Harry there.

Harry couldn't figure out exactly how it was happening, but he knew that it was happening regardless.

"What do you want?" Harry asked defiantly, and was not surprised that Voldemort seemed to hear him. This little communication was new and it was unnerving Harry.

"Harry Potter, I'm so pleased you could meet with me tonight," Voldemort said coldly.

Harry shivered and wondered how he could even feel himself shivering. "What do you want?" he repeated.

"I wanted to have a little talk with you," Voldemort said almost casually, and Harry shivered again to remember that this piece of evil used to be a real man—completely human.

"Then talk so I can go!"

"No need to shout, Potter," Voldemort said. "We are the only ones here."

Harry glared at him, the man with the cold red eyes, and hated the fact that he was trapped and couldn't leave. Harry waited. Let the snake-faced bastard say what he wanted so he could get out of there.

"I'm quite curious as to why you were dreaming about my right-hand man recently," Voldemort said coldly. "How is it that you know about the intricacies between Lucius and his son? What exactly is your concern for the young Malfoy, who will soon be a part of my fold?"

"I'm not telling you anything about Draco."

Voldemort looked at him with interest. "It would seem that you are quite fond of Draco. I was not aware that you were even on a first name basis with him. Is there more to this? Or is this just something one-sided for you?"

Harry continued to glare at him, but remained silent. As much as he wanted to shout at Voldemort, he didn't want to give the bastard any more ammunition.

"Hmmm, perhaps I need to learn more about what exactly is going on at Hogwarts this year," Voldemort said musingly. "Perhaps also, I need to free Lucius so that he might check personally on his son. I do miss having my right-hand man available to me."

Harry continued to keep his silence, glaring defiantly at Voldemort.

"You upset me greatly with that little stunt you pulled," Voldemort said dangerously. "But then, I will have Lucius back. You will never see Black again, so I suppose not all was lost."

Harry could feel the guilt, the anger, the fear—all of it weighing him down heavily. "At least you never got the prophecy."

"I was angered that you lost me the prophecy."

"Yeah, it's too bad you didn't get a chance to hear it, because then you'd know you were fighting a lost cause," Harry snapped recklessly.

Voldemort was beyond furious with that declaration, and somehow flung Harry back to his own mind, however that worked.

Harry woke in his own bed, and promptly threw himself to the side, retching, unaware of anything more than the emotions swirling around inside of him, along with the pain flaring hotly from his scar.