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Harry felt like his body was on fire. He hated to admit it but Voldemort had been right about the fever. His chest was aching. Harry clutched the covers close to himself as he shivered involuntarily. Voldemort had left hours ago. At that time, Harry hadn't particularly felt feverish but the symptoms had escalated over time and now Harry was feeling the fever in all its intensity.
His throat was parched. He needed water. Harry knew that the jug was just on the side table but he couldn't muster up the strength to get up and pour the water. He didn't even have the strength to open his eyes or move his hands. He had to get through this. Voldemort would get extreme pleasure from seeing him in this state.
Harry kept drifting in and out of consciousness. He knew that his condition was getting worse than better. He turned his head and saw the jug full of water. He needed water extremely badly. Harry tried to get up but couldn't. His entire body was aching now.
Voldemort sat back in his throne and opened the evening Daily Prophet. A front-page picture of Harry greeted him and he read the headline,
"Harry Potter Misses Trial."
Voldemort smirked. He had almost forgotten that it had been Harry's trial today. No matter, the trial had been rescheduled for tomorrow and he would make Harry's presence there absolutely certain. He rose to his feet and decided that Harry ought to know about it and made his way to Harry's room.
He opened the door and found Harry seemingly asleep. He sat down beside him and spoke,
"Harry, sleep time's over."
But Harry didn't respond. He touched Harry's cheek and realized that Harry's fever had grown worse. He shook Harry and observed that Harry was barely breathing,
"Wake up, Harry."
A weak moan escaped Harry's lips. Voldemort poured some water in the glass and raised Harry in a sitting position. He was concerned about how limp and lifeless Harry's body felt. He held the glass to Harry's lips and Harry drank readily. The glass was empty in seconds. Voldemort refilled it with his wand and after Harry had finished that as well, he set the glass down on the side table.
Harry coughed and felt his senses returning. He opened his eyes a fraction and saw Voldemort holding him. Harry closed his eyes again and sighed out in defeat. Why was the exact opposite of everything that he wanted happening? He wanted to speak but he was still too weak for that. Voldemort finally spoke,
"Harry, you are sick and you require care."
Harry almost laughed sarcastically. Voldemort was going to take care of him. What was the world coming to? Voldemort summoned Narcissa and when she arrived. He left Harry in her care,
"I want him better till tomorrow. Is that understood?"
And with that Voldemort vanished from the room. Narcissa Malfoy glared venomously at Harry and conjured the potions. Harry kept his eyes closed. The momentary strength that he had gained from the water was fading fast. He was falling back into unconsciousness. He didn't feel what Narcissa fed him because he had completely passed out till then.
Voldemort paced his office restlessly. He couldn't understand what was going on with Harry. He had to find out somehow. One thing was for certain that Harry would never willingly expose his secret. Well how could he get the secret out of him without physically harming him? The answer was very simple and he smirked at the simplicity. Veritaserum. But he would have to give it to Harry with discretion. Because the boy would no doubt resist if he knew what he had been fed.
Harry woke up hours later, feeling stronger and better. He sat up straighter and got out of bed. He hated himself for his moment of weakness in front of Voldemort. He felt an extremely bitter taste in his mouth. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in one. He looked around the room and made his way to the window. The sun had just risen. Harry estimated that it was about six in the morning. Harry opened up the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of jeans and a checkered shirt. Maybe a shower would do him good.
After a long, relaxing shower, Harry stepped out of the bathroom dressed in fresh clothes. He wore his shoes and socks and stepped out of the room. Harry felt normal. Or as normal as he could possibly feel. Narcissa had definitely done her job well this time. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and observed that his cheeks were ruddy and his eyes had regained some of their spark. He remembered what Voldemort had said yesterday. The man had said that he would take care of him. Harry snorted. No amount of care could ever stop his impending death. Come to think of it, he would love to see Voldemort fail.
The door opened and Harry turned around to see Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway,
"The Dark Lord wants to see you."
Harry moved his fingers through his wet hair and spoke,
"But I don't want to see him."
Narcissa spoke irately,
"Fine, brat. I shall convey your message to him."
She stomped away and Harry smirked in satisfaction. He walked back to the window and opened it to let in the cool morning breeze. Maybe he should go out for a walk. He wasn't restrained and he was pretty sure that the door wasn't locked. He had just finalized his decision when he felt Voldemort's presence in the room,
"You are already dressed. Excellent."
Harry didn't respond to that. The man was insufferable. Instantly Harry felt Voldemort's arms wrap around his waist and he tried to pry them away,
"Don't touch me."
Harry felt Voldemort warm breath on his neck and heard him inhale his scent. Harry pulled away immediately and stepped back from Voldemort,
"Did you just breathe in my scent? You're being beyond creepy."
Voldemort chuckled darkly,
"You shall grow accustomed to it."
Harry shook his head,
"Nope, I'm not going to stay here long enough for me to grow accustomed to that."
Voldemort twirled his wand between his fingers thoughtfully and spoke,
"We shall see about that. But for today, you shall be attending your hearing at the ministry."
Harry blurted out,
Voldemort smirked viciously at Harry's shock.
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