Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Possess me ❯ Chapter seven ( Chapter 7 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

I don't own Harry Potter.
I own the plot of this fic, if you steal it from me it's against the law, and I'll personally see to that your account gets erased. Believe me, my fic's been stolen before and I can get really pissed. Besides, stealing another person's fiction is just a proof of your own lack of talent. In other words; stealing another person's fic is downright pathetic.

Warnings; (Just in case you haven't read this in any of the previous chapters) This is yaoi (Japanese concept for sex between men), Dark!Harry, vampirism, foul language, and random bloody scenes.

Sorry for the long wait you guys, I've been busy with school, part-time job, and my other fictions. Sorry! I feel really bad, I hope you can forgive me!
I'm sorry to say that there will be no sexual content in this chapter, but Harry will think about it a great lot and people will talk about it a little... I think. And besides, sex isn't everything, is it? This chapter will be really dark, since Harry is going to be extremely moody, irritated and downright pissed. Kinda like a male pms-ing. Only a tad worse. Be aware; this chapter contains cursing, rage, darkness, some black magic and blood. So put on some good music (I recommend something dark and angry... like Ill Niño, My Dying Bride or Dir en Grey(- "Obscure" is yummie)) and I'm sure we'll get through this together. (Obviously, I don't own any of the bands I previously mentioned, I just like them a lot.)

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Chapter seven.

Five days.

Five long, fucking days! That's how long it had been since the last time he had talked to Voldemort. It was also the same amount of time that Harry had restrained himself from any kind of sexual activity. He hadn't been touching himself in any way. He hadn't even been thinking about it, but only because he had promised Voldemort not to do so. In truth, Harry's body was dying from sexual frustration.

Harry muttered darkly to himself as he walked through the corridors, not really paying much attention to Hermione who was walking beside him. The corridor was empty save for them, and Harry was grateful for that. He had been acting like Mr. Sunshine all week, and he was sick of it. He needed to be grumpy for a while, since the frustrated feeling inside of him only increased with each dreadful day of not seeing Voldemort. That bastard of a dark lord hadn't even showed up in the mirror when Harry had called him, and for some reason that annoyed Harry even more.

It was as if the Dark Lord thought that Harry was going to beg him for sex as soon as he saw him, as if it wasn't Voldemort himself who had started the whole fucking drama! Harry groaned again as a hot wave flooded through his body, making his blood boil for a second, then disappeared. They had been coming and going all day, those hot waves. Sometimes, they were so hot that they felt cold. And Harry felt sick to his stomach. For different reasons. The humans disgusted him, eating their fat, simple food, stuffing their faces with meat and vegetables. Sweating and moving like cattle. They all disgusted Harry with their simple ways of living, feeding and breeding. They were barely even thinking for themselves. Had he really been one of them once?

"Harry?" Harry gave Hermione a brief glance to let her know that he had heard her, but simply wasn't interested enough to give her a proper reply. He could hear how she swallowed, how the muscles in her throat worked to get the saliva down. Harry made a face. He felt sick again. Why did he have to be surrounded by these creatures?

"You seem awfully distressed. Is something the matter?" Hermione's voice was rather careful, which told Harry two things; one, Hermione was once again in her mother-mood, and two, Hermione was still a bit afraid of Harry. He couldn't help but to smirk. How nice it felt to know that someone feared him. He stopped in mid stride and turned to face Hermione.

"What's the color of my eyes?" he asked her and stared straight into her surprised, slightly frightened eyes. She seemed to think about for a second or two before pursing her lips.

"They're green. Maybe a tad darker than usual, but they're still green Harry. Don't worry about it." Hermione smiled gently and put her hand on his shoulder. Harry, who actually felt like screaming with frustration, smirked again. Hermione obviously mistook his smirk for a smile, because she smiled wider and kept walking expecting Harry to follow her. Which in fact he was going to do, but only because they had the same class; Defense Against the Dark Arts. But actually, Harry's smirk was caused by amusement. He couldn't help it.

Hermione was surprisingly naïve for someone of such high intelligence. She thought that Harry had been worried about the shade of his eyes. Which, in some ways, he was. However, she also presumed that he would be relieved to hear that they were still green, which was a fact that only made him feel more frustrated than before. But of course, in Hermione's world, Harry was still the gentle ‘Boy Who Lived’.

His eyes were still green. They were still green! Sure, they had darkened according to Hermione, but they were still green! It had been five days already! Why wouldn't they turn black? Harry knew that he was irrational to expect his appearance to change so quickly, but it still annoyed the shit out of him. Voldemort had told him that it might take a while. But this was driving Harry mad. His head hurt twenty-four-seven. He felt sick all the time and for some reason, he felt hungry. What made him so frustrated about being hungry wasn't exactly the feeling itself, it was more the question of what he was hungry for.

Eating lunch with his fellow Hogwarts students only made him feel like vomiting. Like eating together with a bunch of pigs. There was no discipline in the way they ate, no elegance. And the food... didn't taste like food in Harry's mouth any more. He could chew it, swallow it and feel some kind of physical content, but the hunger was still lurking inside of him, never being fully satisfied no matter how much human food Harry ate.

"Read from chapter twenty-six; How to make pixies disappear," that disgustingly sweet voice said as Harry and Hermione plopped down on two chairs and took their books up. Obediently, Harry started reading the Pixie chapter, not really seeing the words. He kept glancing at Professor Umbridge, the woman he hated with all his heart. He would definitely ask Voldemort to kill her some day. The woman was so... pink. But that wasn't at all what annoyed Harry the most. The woman seemed to believe that Harry wanted everyone to believe in him, to believe that Voldemort had returned, when in fact Harry couldn't care less. It was actually Hermione and Ron who kept saying that Harry wasn't lying about the matter. Harry himself didn't give a shit whether people believed him or not, why should he?

In fact, if people chose not to believe him, it would only make it easier for Harry to maintain this little act. People wouldn't watch him too closely, and they wouldn't keep an eye out for Voldemort either. In short, it was better if people didn't believe him.

However, as it was, Dolores Umbridge still believed that Harry aimed to become the perfect prince of the good side. And so she had obviously decided to pester him as much as possible, always giving him dirty looks and weird comments. If only she knew what Harry did when he was alone... alone with Voldemort... in his bed.

No! Don't think about it! A burning, aroused blush was already adorning his cheeks. He swallowed and tried to concentrate on reading the book. Reading about pixies should normally be a big turn off for anyone, but for Harry, who had been sex-starved for five days, nothing seemed to stop the growing arousal. Five days may sound little to anyone else, but not to forget; Harry wasn't altogether human anymore. His skin got all the hotter as the images of dead pixies blurred together. Harry couldn't see properly anymore. Dazedly, he was now just staring at the book, without seeing, forcing himself to experience it. If he didn't do something, he would explode!

Harry lifted a shaky hand, hoping Umbridge wouldn't ignore him, as she usually did. The pink teacher gave him a false smile and a small nod.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Can I go to the bathroom, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, which was hard since in some ways he felt like throwing up. His head hurt, and he felt sick, but still aroused. This was an odd mixture and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Umbridge gave him a long, hard stare before nodding again.

"Five minutes, Mr. Potter," she chirped as he walked out of the room. Harry didn't care about it, but ran as fast as he could to the bathroom. When he got there, there was no one around, which wasn't too surprising. Harry's class and the Slytherin class were the only two classes who had lessons that late. Everyone else was probably in their common rooms. Harry gave a shudder and walked to one of the sinks and stared at himself in the mirror. His skin was pale, save for his slightly pink cheeks, and he was sweating. For all he knew, he looked as if he was about to faint. Harry was stubbornly ignoring the small erection he had developed in the classroom, but it only made him feel more ill. He needed something to replace the arousal.

Then it hit him. Pain. Pain would without a doubt kill the arousal! Harry swallowed and put his hand into his pocket, bringing out his feather pen. He experimentally pressed his finger over the pointy metal and shuddered. It was still very sharp after years of usage. Eager to get rid of the dangerous arousal, Harry pulled his sleeve up and put the sharp edge against the inside of his arm, just below his elbow, and pressed. He watched with a dazed fascination as the metal sunk into his skin, into his flesh, and finally drew blood. Harry gasped as the pain shot up his arm and made him scrunch his face up a bit. He let the metal make a small line in his skin and then removed it, only to push it in again.

When Harry was done, he stared at the scar he had made. His arm was now adorned with a gleaming red 'V'. Harry stood up on shaky legs, feeling sicker than ever, but relieved that the arousal was gone. His body began to shudder and the cold sweat dripped over his eyebrows.

Harry tried to drink some water to calm him down, but that turned out to be a huge mistake. Two seconds later, Harry was desperately leaning over a toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach. Gasps, coughs and splashing, disgusting sounds were heard throughout the room. When he was finally done, and all he could do was to breathe heavily, he stared down at the mess that had previously been inside of his stomach. With an almost content feeling, he noticed that the small amount of human food he had eaten that day was included in the disgusting mess.

However, Harry also saw something that made him feel slightly worried. There was blood in it. Dark, crimson blood was floating around in the toilet. Harry blinked slowly, then flushed the toilet with a disgusted frown. Things were getting interesting, weren't they? Harry washed his sticky face a little and left the bathroom.

As he slowly walked back to the classroom, he realized two things; One, he was completely drained. All his remaining energy had left with the puke. Two; He had definitely been away for more than five minutes. Harry sped up a little and jogged back to the classroom, even though he felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. When he finally opened the door and walked into the classroom, staggering a little, Umbridge immediately giggled. A giggle that triggered Harry's anger with a hot pang. He had been trying his best all day to act normal. Why did this pink creature have to make it so hard?

"You've been away for over fifteen minutes, Mr. Potter," she chirped, coldness seeping into her words as she spoke. "What were you doing?"

"None of your fucking business," Harry said loud and clear, completely without thinking, and the whole classroom froze. Harry cursed himself and wanted nothing more than to slap himself right then and there for his daftness. He wasn't allowed to speak like that to a professor! He knew that! But the words had just left him without permission, and to be honest, a big part of Harry severely enjoyed the shocked look on the woman's face.

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" She hissed, not even trying to chirp anymore, and the anger was visible in her eyes. Pink spots had appeared on her cheeks, and Harry would've smirked out of amusement, but instead he made the face of a rebellious teenager. He frowned a little and gave Professor Umbridge a dirty look before sitting down. Hermione was staring at him, but Harry refused to meet her gaze. Instead he continued to read the pixie-chapter until the girl on his right side finally turned away from him. He fumed. Even though it had been quite amusing to see Umbridge get angry, the situation began to sink in. To spend an entire hour with the pink woman after class, when all he wanted was to go to sleep, was not what he needed right now.

But there was little Harry could do, because just as he was about to sneak out of the classroom along with the other students, it was as if an invisible hook got stuck in his robe and dragged him back in. Professor Umbridge smirked as she gave a flick with her wand and made Harry sit down by the desk closest to the teacher's desk.

"Were you trying to sneak away, Mr. Potter?" she chirped and earned herself a hard glare from Harry.

"Obviously, Professor Umbridge," he muttered with forced courtesy. The teacher gave an unpleasant grin and pattered towards him, blinking innocently.

"Gee, what a shame. I might have to keep you here one extra hour because of that." Harry clenched his jaws and swallowed, repeating Voldemort's words in his head, "No one must suspect you... stay calm... try to act normal."

"I apologize, Professor Umbridge," he murmured, his voice trembling a little from anger. Umbridge gave another unpleasant smile, obviously pleased that she was pissing Harry off.

"That's good, boy. Because deep, deep down, you know you deserve to get punished," she said and gave him a black feather pen that somehow felt heavy and strange in Harry's hand. Umbridge then gave him one of those disgusting fake-caring looks, making Harry want to snarl at the awful woman. The teacher went back to her own desk to pour herself a cup of tea, then she took a seat on the large chair behind the desk. The kittens on the plates around her purred and mewed, as if they actually liked her presence. Maybe that’s why she collected them; they were the only ones who could stand her. Harry would've laughed, but he was too annoyed.

"I really don't need this right now." he muttered to himself and put the pen to the paper, "What do you want me to write?" he asked the teacher. Umbridge smiled.

"'I must never be rude towards my teacher at any time,'" she replied and took a sip of her tea. Harry stared at her in disgust for a few seconds, then started to write.

"This is ridiculous-" he whispered, but took a silent gasp as he had finished the first sentence. A hot, numbing pain suddenly blossomed on the back of Harry's hand. He stared in awe, as the words he had just written on the paper appeared on his hand. They were cut into his skin, and he would've started to bleed, but the skin healed too quickly. Harry stared at the faint scar on his hand for a few seconds. He threw a glance at the words on the papers, and realized that the red ink was in fact his own blood.

If Harry was still his old self, he would undoubtedly get scared and upset, but...

A sly smirk appeared on Harry's face, and a thrill ran up his spine as he, once more, put the pen to his paper and wrote the sentence again. The same, numbing pain coursed through Harry's hand, but instead of gasping with pain, Harry gave a low snicker and stared with fascination at the bloody words. The blood on his paper smelled... lovely.

So Harry, who was starting to rather enjoy the detention more and more, wrote the sentence over and over again, almost eagerly. The words on his hand didn't heal anymore. Soon, big droplets of blood fell from his hand, making spots on the papers and red lines on his skin. After about two hours of dazed writing, Harry didn't write the sentence any more. He just drew the pen over the paper, and almost moaned when new scars appeared on his skin. It wasn't exactly sexual pleasure, but it was close. Harry was already addicted to the pain, when suddenly Professor Umbridge's hand came around his wrist.

"I told you to stop now, Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed and stared, almost frightened, at Harry who stared back at her. His eyes narrowed and darted towards her small, chubby hand on his skin. He finally fell over the edge. How dare she prevent him from doing something so pleasurable? Harry slowly stood up and gave the teacher a furious glare. Professor Umbridge released him and reached for her wand, but before she grasped it, Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him, making her yelp.

"Let go of me!" she hissed, sounding both panicked, angry and frightened. Harry was barely aware of what he was doing at this rate, and just snickered against her ear. The teacher stopped squirming, as if the depth of Harry's voice numbed her. She was almost limp in his grip. He put his nose against her neck and inhaled. Oh, he could smell the blood behind that pale skin...

"Harry!" The voice came from the door, and Harry abruptly woke up from his dazed state, feeling drugged and sleepy. Dumbledore stared at him, while Professor McGonagall was gaping and grasping the black scarf around her neck. "What are you doing?" Dumbledore asked, sounding strict and worried. Harry stared at the old man, then at Professor Umbridge who was still limp in his grip, then back at the headmaster. He shrugged and let go of the teacher who fell to the floor with a 'thud.'

"I don't know..." Harry drawled, still feeling drugged, and gave a low snicker. "I wasn't making out with the old toad, if that's what you think..." Harry stopped smiling when he realized how strangely he was acting. He brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed it, suddenly feeling just as sick as before.

"What happened to your hand, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall gasped, sounding upset. Harry immediately put on the mask of his old self again and gave a weak smile.

"Oh, um... nothing really-" he said and wasn't surprised when the old woman rushed to his side and grabbed his arm to have a closer look.

"Oh my goodness! Don't tell me that Professor Umbridge made you use that quill?" Harry just nodded and timidly turned his gaze to the floor, but smirked darkly at Professor McGonagall's back when she turned to Dumbledore.

"This is outrageous! We cannot accept these methods of hers!" the woman spat and gestured to the unconscious teacher who was still laying on the floor. Dumbledore gave Harry's hand a glance, then looked at Professor Umbridge on the floor.

"What... did you do to her, Harry?" the old man asked, peering suspiciously at Harry. Harry swallowed and met Dumbledore's sharp eyes, and before he knew what he was doing, he was smirking. It only lasted for about a second, but Dumbledore had undoubtedly seen it. Harry quickly frowned and closed his eyes. He had to do some acting, if he wanted Dumbledore to still think he was his old, gentle, foolish self.

"Everything is blurry," he murmured and furiously sought for some kind of excuse! "She... uh... She made me use that weird quill... and I started to get dizzy. I was so tired... and angry... she's been so cruel ever since she first came here!" Harry said, voice trembling and quivering. "Before I knew what I was doing, I had already cursed her! I am so sorry, sir! I was trying to wake her up when you arrived!"

Professor McGonagall nodded continuously and turned to Dumbledore who still looked bemused and suspicious.

"Is this the truth, Harry?"

Harry nodded shakily and even managed to squeeze out a small tear, which he quickly wiped away.

"I swear it! I don't know what happened! She just made me so angry!"

The older woman nodded again, and Harry smirked inwardly. Everyone knew how much Professor McGonagall hated Umbridge. No wonder she was so keen on believing Harry. Anything to get the toad fired!

"She makes us all angry, Mr. Potter! Headmaster, please have some understanding!"

Dumbledore finally seemed to give in and nodded slowly. He gave Harry a weak smile.

"I understand, Harry. We cannot always control our feelings. Besides, to make a student use a quill like that is most definitely against the rules," he said and turned to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, please take Professor Umbridge to the hospital. Let Poppy have a look at her."

The grey-haired teacher nodded and immediately went to pick the unconscious teacher up.

"You can go, Harry. I'm sure you would like to get some sleep. You look pale, boy," Dumbledore put his hand on Harry shoulder just as Harry was about to walk out of the room. The old man stared intensively into Harry's eyes.

"Something the matter, sir?" He asked politely, even though the hand on his shoulder somewhat disgusted him. The headmaster blinked, and smiled. He shook his head.

"No. Your eyes just look... darker than usual. Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me, Harry?"

Harry just shook his head and smiled weakly.

"I think I would like to go to sleep now, sir. Good night."

"Good night."

Harry watched, with no emotion in his eyes, as Dumbledore walked away through the dimly lit corridors, followed by McGonagall who was making Professor Umbridge soar next to her. Harry merely watched them walk away, and when he couldn't see them anymore, he turned around and started to walk towards the Gryffindor common room. His unconcerned mask was wiped away, replaced by a dark leer. Harry started to chuckle as he thought of Dumbledore's words, "We cannot always control our feelings."

Indeed we cannot, dear headmaster. I cannot control the fact that I long to feel Lord Voldemort's hands on my body, Harry thought and gave a snigger at his own, sinful thoughts. Oh, if only the old man knew. These thoughts thrilled Harry. There was something about this game he was playing that was so incredibly exciting... satisfying almost.

"Your eyes just look... darker than usual."

Harry's leer turned into a grin, and the chuckle grew into laughter. Harry laughed harder, and leaned on the stonewall, grasping at his stomach. He could hear how his almost insane laughter echoed throughout the corridor. When he had finally calmed down, he stared at the pale moon, still grinning, but in a colder way.

"It's almost time, isn't it?"

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"Harry! Where have you been?" Hermione exclaimed and looked as if she was about to rush to his side, but stopped when she saw the irritated look on his face.

"Out and about," he replied and gave a weak smile to calm her down a bit. Making her believe that he hated her wouldn't make things better. "I'm tired. I want to sleep." He walked past his former friend, gave her a quick, cold glance, then walked up the stairs. Ron met him halfway and tried to give Harry a smile, to which Harry responded to by giving a tired groan. Ron frowned, followed him into the room and closed the door.

"Would you please tell me what's going on? I know you don't want to talk to Hermione, even though I can't understand why not, but please, Harry!" Ron grabbed his shoulder before Harry had a chance to hide behind the curtains that surrounded his bed. "Talk to me!"

"I wish I could!" Harry snapped and yanked free from Ron's hands. He realized he had made a mistake. Ron now knew that there was something wrong, something that Harry couldn't talk about. "Ron, listen to me. Not even I understand altogether what's happening." Come up with a lie quickly! "Dumbledore says it may have something to do with Voldemort. That he... uh... can read my mind!" What the fuck am I saying?!

Ron stared at Harry with a slightly gaping mouth.

"What..?"

Harry bit his lip and sat down on the bed with fake frustration, although a part of it was real. If he kept on lying like this to everyone, someone would definitely discover this stupid act!

"I know... it's just horrible," Harry muttered, not really knowing what to say. "That's why I've been acting a bit strange lately." Ron nodded, looking scared and worried.

"I understand... but why won't you tell Hermione about this?" At that Harry had no idea what to say. He stared at Ron for a few seconds before giving a small cough.

"Um, well, she would just get worried. You know what she's like..." It was a lame excuse, Harry was aware of that, but he didn't have time to think of something better to say. "I don't have the energy to deal with her right now."

Ron nodded with an understanding, pitying look on his face. Harry let out a small sigh of relief.

"I understand mate. Well, I'll see to it that Hermione doesn't bother you anymore."

Harry nodded tiredly and quickly changed into his pajamas.

"I'm tired. I need to sleep," Harry murmured and realized how true it was. Acting "normal" the entire day was getting on his nerves. He felt completely drained. He crawled under the blankets and pulled the curtains. With the last of his energy, he whispered a silencing charm and a locking spell. He closed his eyes and sighed. Finally he would get some sleep.

"Harry Potter." The mirror that was neatly placed on Harry’s pillow suddenly gave off a blue light and Harry's fatigue was blown out the window. He sat up and gripped the mirror tightly. Voldemort's face came into view and Harry smiled weakly, a real one this time.

"Tom..." he whispered. Voldemort gave him the usual cold stare, but there was something akin to pity in those red eyes.

"Does it hurt, Harry?" the dark wizard asked, actually sounding somewhat concerned. Harry swallowed and nodded.

"Yes... it hurts," he replied, but tried to sound stoic. "I can handle it though. Don't worry about me, my Lord." Voldemort blinked slowly at this and the cold stare turned into a longing one.

"We will meet shortly, Harry," he said darkly. "I won't let anyone stand in our way."

In that moment, Harry would've given anything to be able to kiss those pale lips. To fall into his Dark Lord's arms... the longing grew into pain and Harry gave a small whimper. He pressed his clammy forehead to the mirror, but never broke eye contact. Voldemort had retreated to coldness, and merely stared at Harry and his obvious pain.

"This better be worth it," Harry whispered. "I don't even understand why you want to get into Hogwarts anyway. Why can't I just come to you? Wouldn't it be more convenient if I just ran away from here?"

Voldemort sighed and shook his head.

"You're still too naïve, Harry. Do you really think that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop you if you were to run away?" the cold voice was almost mocking, and Harry blushed angrily.

"I've run away before!" He muttered. Voldemort gave a hissing chuckle.

"Yes, but this is different. As I previously told you, Dumbledore knows exactly what you are. He knows about the demon blood that runs in your veins. You probably don't know about this, but Dumbledore has cast a special spell over you. You aren't able to come to me, because you are bound to a certain area. So far, you've only been able to go as far as to the magic village, Hogsmeade, haven't you? And in your fourth year, when I teleported you to the graveyard, I was only able to do so because the portkey more or less dragged you away from the area," Voldemort muttered. "Dumbledore's magic is strong, but I don't think he was expecting you to get abducted in the middle of that silly tournament. To tell the truth, it was mere luck."

"Then why can't Nagini just bring me another portkey? Why must I risk my life for this?" Harry whispered, now feeling upset. Dumbledore had cast a spell over him?! An actual spell? Nothing made sense anymore! Voldemort closed his eyes, clearly frustrated with Harry's questions.

"That has many reasons. One; Dumbledore is more cautious now. He's prepared for a new portkey, since he now knows what could happen. Two; Anything that has been affected by my magic is unable to enter the school grounds. Three; As soon as Nagini has given me the piece of your soul, I will come to you, and I will rescue you. I will take you away from Hogwarts. But to break the spell that Dumbledore cast upon you, I must also be inside of that area. Do you understand now?" Voldemort gave Harry an intense stare. "You must risk your life for this, Harry. Because as it is right now, I can't come to you, and you can't come to me. That is why you must do this."

Harry nodded slowly. He understood now. Dumbledore had cast a spell over him, so that Harry wouldn't be able to leave. Dumbledore probably removed it during his summer break, since he was already protected by the Dursley’s house. So the only thing to do was to give Voldemort a piece of his soul, so that Voldemort would be able to enter Hogwarts and remove the spell that Dumbledore had cast upon him. There was no other way.

"I understand," Harry said weakly and blinked. "Just... don't let me die."

Voldemort didn't say anything at first, then he gave a small smile. Harry stared at it, as if it would save his life, and realized that it was the first time that the Dark Lord had given him that kind of smile.

"I won't let you die."

They sat in silence for a few seconds. Harry put his head to the pillows and lazily gazed into the red eyes on the other side of the glass.

"I feel sick," he muttered. "And everything annoys me. Everybody disgusts me."

Voldemort nodded.

"It's a natural part of the process. Be patient. It'll be over soon."

Harry yawned and nodded tiredly. Suddenly he gave a small pout. He held up his hand to the mirror and showed the scars.

"Look what Umbridge did to me," he muttered. "She made me use a weird quill when I was in detention."

Voldemort frowned.

"Why were you in detention?" Harry sighed and gave and irritated frown.

"I was in the bathroom too long, and when she asked me what I had been doing I accidently... kinda, told her it was 'none of her fucking business.'"

Voldemort sighed frustrated and gave Harry a scowl.

"Didn't I tell you to act normal? Draw as little attention as possible, Harry," Voldemort hissed, clearly angry with the boy who lived. "If Dumbledore starts to suspect you, the plan might be impossible to carry out!"

"What was I supposed to say then? 'Sorry, professor, I was puking blood, because Lord Voldemort won't let me jack off anymore!'" Harry snarled, feeling somewhat hurt that Voldemort got angry at him instead of Umbridge. Voldemort stared at the angry boy.

"You were throwing up blood?" He asked, suddenly sounding a lot calmer than before, ignoring Harry's interesting choice of words. Harry swallowed and nodded grumpily.

"Yes I did! I've been feeling sick all day long. I couldn't help it," he murmured. Voldemort sighed and had a hint of a gentle look.

"If you're already throwing up blood it means that your body is progressing. It's changing, from human, into demon. That's why your body is rejecting everything that is human right now. Blood, for instance. And the fact that you feel irritated all the time is probably caused by the sun. It's nothing dangerous, but your body simply does not like it anymore. When the process is over, you will feel a lot better. Your body is just confused at the moment."

Harry sighed and rubbed his dark eyes.

"I hate this. I want it to be over soon." Voldemort smirked at this.

"I will be sending Nagini to you soon. If your body's already rejecting blood, it means that the process is almost complete. And your eyes are looking a lot darker than before."

"Really?" Harry smiled, feeling too tired to grin as widely. Voldemort nodded.

"Really. Now go to sleep. You look as if you need it."

The face disappeared from the glass and Harry scoffed annoyingly before settling on his pillows.

"Couldn't even say 'sweet dreams' could you?" Harry muttered, but inwardly snickered at the mere idea of Lord Voldemort saying 'sweet dreams' to anyone. It was honestly rather silly.


tbc.
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Stay alert for the next chapter! Action coming up. And some confrontation with friends and teachers who are starting to realize that there is something different about Harry. Draco and Blaise will also play a big part of the next chapter, because Harry needs their help to steal the Slytherin-knife.

Please review. I'll update as soon as possible. If there's anything you're wondering about, don't be scared to ask.