The Opposite of Love

Chapter 2: Trapped in the Dark

Harry's destination became apparent as he felt the insides of his stomach suddenly lurch up and his body was deposited quite roughly onto a patch of dew filled grass. He lay in this initial position for a few moments with his legs sprawled every which way, his arms seemingly reaching out to grasp the welcome earth, his glasses askew as he turned his head sideways, blades of grass tickling his nose. After he had practically memorized the exact number of veins a shoot of grass has, Harry finally stood up. His eyes scanned his surroundings and landed on a larger than life castle that was most definitely not Hogwarts. His throat tightened and Harry suddenly felt that he was not somewhere safe. After another confused glance at his surroundings, Harry found a large, aged door set inside a brick wall directly behind him. He sighed in relief, walking hurriedly toward the door. He placed his hand on a metal ring and pulled. To his utter disappointment, the door didn't budge at all. He grew frantic, trying desperately to escape from wherever he had been taken to. He kicked, pounded, and yelled in rage before thinking of using his wand, which did not work on the door either. His efforts proved fruitless, however, as in his efforts to leave, his foot slipped on some of the grass he had studied earlier. Muttering deep loathing for the once interesting grass, Harry stood up and resorted to pounding his fist on the old wooden door until his hand was raw. After finally succumbing to the idea that he was indeed trapped, he turned around slowly, staring at the mansion for the first time.

The mansion loomed high above him, its turrets and towers twisting grotesquely into the darkened sky. On a closer inspection, he discovered that he was standing near a moat. Its waters were a pale green and a murky cloud of fog hung over it. A scaly something glided through the water, and the idea of a moat monster firmly held in Harry's mind. From his view of the outside a few moments ago, he could tell that he was high atop a mountain. A strange, foreboding feeling overtook him and he could have sworn that an evil presence was afoot. Yet he knew it wasn't a presence as evil as Voldemort, or else he'd have quite a headache at this point. Harry shivered inwardly, the castle-like home reminding him grimly of old Muggle movies such as Frankenstein. He wouldn't have been entirely surprised if there wasn't some sort of monster inside, though perhaps not one with bolts protruding from its neck. Horror films had never taken with Harry. Every time he would watch a horror movie with his cousin Dudley, Dudley would always spend the next week or so terrorizing Harry, playing cruel pranks on the young and skittish Harry. One time Dudley and his gang left Harry at a cemetery after watching some horror film. Harry shook his head roughly, blocking the disturbing memories from his mind immediately.

Deciding to just swallow his fear and take fate by the throat, Harry walked determinedly toward the apparition of some sort of real-life horror movie. He approached what he figured to be the entrance, confusion etched on his face as he tried to figure out how to cross the moat. He cursed at the fact that he didn't know how to Apparate, as it was not the end of his seventh year. A sudden lurch of a moat monster dampened Harry's hope of trying to conjure a practical way of crossing the moat. Harry could only stare perplexedly at the castle.

His questions were answered, however, as a loud creaking sound echoed in Harry's ears and a large drawbridge began lowering. The castle had seemed deserted, but the sudden lowering of the bridge proved that there was indeed someone or something there. The thought didn't cheer Harry, but it gave him the will to walk across the length of the bridge, spooked yet somewhat relieved at the same time. At the end of the bridge there lay a darkened door, which opened like magic when he drew near. Harry warily padded into the darkened main room, gasping at the spectacle before him. As soon as he stepped in, the ceiling rushed swiftly above him to a height much higher than the enchanted ceiling at Hogwarts. The room could have easily fit a two-story house, and then have enough room for a deck and a swimming pool. The entrance hall was adorned with gold, marble, and several other precious stones he could not name at the moment. At the end of the room stood a magnificent set of stairs. It started in a wide expanse and swooped upward as far as his vision could take him. But just before the stairs drifted completely out of sight, he could make out two sets of stairs branching off from the main staircase, as well as a shadowed hall going straight towards the back of the castle. Harry grew ever more impressed as he closely studied the tiled floor, it's intricate designs flowing eloquently together. Harry found that he was no longer shivering; the room was very warm even though there was no sign of a fireplace. Even if Harry could discount the presence of the moat monster, he could still deduce that the house was a wizard's domicile.

A sharp rapping noise startled Harry out of his reverie and he felt himself being lifted high into the air once more, except instead of a warm, soothing gust of air, he instead felt a harsh pulling all over his body as if he was a puppet suspended by strings. Harry gasped and flailed his arms, looking ridiculously like a crippled chicken trying to fly. He was lifted higher and higher to the ceiling, his body floundering against the unseen force. He was just able to turn his head toward the ceiling, and almost as suddenly wish he hadn't. The ceiling was rushing toward him at break neck speed. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact that he knew would occur. Then, as if planned from the very beginning, his body stopped, bent at a rigid angle against the ceiling. Harry opened one eye slowly, his nose only an inch from scraping the ceiling. Just as he was about to inhale again, his body once again took flight, floating awkwardly toward the top of the staircase. His journey stopped abruptly a few feet from the floor and he landed with a resounding thump, wincing as pain shot through his side.

"Sorry about that. I just learned that spell and I'm not good with landings yet," a sickeningly familiar voice announced, sounding as if it wasn't sorry at all. Harry groaned, lifting his head from the ground for the second time that day and forced himself to look at the cause of his impromptu flight. A looming mass of blonde hair, silvery blue eyes, and a wicked smile was what Harry could see, and it was the last thing he wanted to see while splayed out on the ground.

"Malfoy," Harry muttered under his breath, a feeling of enlightenment as to where he was engulfing him. Draco Malfoy smirked, pointing his wand directly at Harry and magically made Harry's wand fall to rest in his outstretched hand. Draco slipped Harry's wand in his own robes, smirking sadistically. Harry felt a rage start to build inside him as Draco proceeded to circle Harry like a hungry vulture over a dead elephant. Harry managed to pull himself to his knees, trying his best to appear composed despite his current position. Draco finally stopped in front of him, favoring Harry with a bemused glance out of the corner of his eye.

"On your knees for me already, Potter?"

"Why have you brought me here?" Harry growled, a white hot flash of anger giving him the energy to leap to his feet and stand a fair distance away from his arch enemy. Something resembling confusion registered in Draco's face but was soon gone as he recovered from his minute shock quickly and strategically.

"Well, I was led to believe that you agreed to accompany me, but I enjoy it so much more when it's against your will anyway," Draco said, an evil sort of slur dripping in his words. Anger flashed in Harry's jade eyes, which were reflected tenfold by a crystal chandelier above their heads. As Harry stood in front of Draco ready to pounce at the slightest fidget from him, Draco couldn't help but notice how much more intimate and lethal their closeness caused them to be. He was equally impressed at how restrained Potter was being. He would have liked to think that it was because of his extravagant wealth and handsomeness, but knew that it was only because he had yet to mention either of Harry's friends in their brief conversation.

"I have no reason to be here and you're holding me captive..."

Draco snorted disdainfully. "Captive? What reason would I have to keep a vagrant like yourself captive? I'd sooner turn you over to Voldemort than have to look at you for one second." Harry's eyes flew open because Malfoy had said 'Voldemort' instead of 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' and for the fact that he was not here on Draco's behalf.

"Then answer my question: Why am I here?"

"Don't ask me, ask them," Draco spat angrily, pointing his wand into the air and muttering a spell. A sphere-like object flashed before them, suspended in midair. Draco grabbed it with both hands and twirled his slender fingers affectionately around it in a mockery of a child holding his favorite toy.

"Show me Dumbledore's office," Draco said to the glowing ball. Harry was past the point in his wizarding career when talking to a ball would seem insane. In fact, few things ever surprised Harry these days. So when the ball's glowing surface twirled colors around to show Dumbledore's office, Harry didn't even blink twice at it. At first it showed a wide, sweeping view of the office but soon narrowed down towards Dumbledore himself as if Draco's mind controlled the picture, which, Harry thought, probably did.

"Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Potter has a few questions about his predicament," Draco explained to the picture. Dumbledore looked up from his papers, smiling in the direction of Draco. He rustled around the papers on his desk and quickly gave Draco all of his attention.

"I was expecting it, actually. Harry, how was your trip?"

"As normal as one could imagine under the circumstances," Harry said, still angry that he was stuck here without a moment's notice. Draco smirked at him, thoroughly pleased at Harry's discomfort.

"I'm sorry that we had to send you so quickly, but there was no time to be lost..."

"Why am I here?" Harry asked slowly, feeling his spirits lower with every second he stood in Malfoy Manor.

"Voldemort was prepared to take you. We needed you in a safe place..."

"Safe? Here?" Harry sounded remarkably like an aristocratic snob while replying, "I'd rather face Voldemort, really."

"Then that makes two of us," Draco muttered, his eyelids lowered in a cross between silent rage and dull boredom. Dumbledore still smiled at their exchange, causing Harry to wonder why Dumbledore never told him anything. Draco just wondered if he could somehow rip Dumbledore's head off without the ill side effect of death.

"Harry, we do not have the manpower to face him just yet. Malfoy Manor is the safest place in the world. We wouldn't have sent you otherwise."

"Oh, so there were more people who concocted this plan?" Harry practically shouted. Draco smiled an even more sinister smile than the one he gave Harry the one time he actually beaten him in a Quidditch match.

"Professor Snape so lovingly came up with this plan," Draco stated, grinning like an overzealous Chester cat. Harry scowled, moving to sit at the top of the expansive staircase in barely contained anger.

"Mr. Malfoy, I trust the two of you can reach some sort of arrangement. Tomorrow I will inform your friends and relative of your location. They will be able to speak to you for one half hour every other day or so through Draco's nifty orb. Merry Christmas." The scene on the ball cleared and Draco waved it away with a flick of his wand, placing his hands on his hips in annoyance. Other matters had occurred to Harry in his brooding, so Harry stood to speak to Malfoy one last time.

"What about your father? He'll probably kill me in my sleep if he knew I was here."

"He died last night, along with my mother," Draco said, no emotion showing in his voice or actions until after he said 'mother'. Harry's eyebrows slightly raised, yet the news didn't shock him as much as he would have thought. He felt a pang of sympathy engulf him suddenly, and for a slightly insane reason he actually felt sorry for Malfoy. It was probably because of the fact that his own parents were killed by Voldemort, but more for reasons Harry could not name. The moment didn't last long as Draco's features were once again iced over and he began walking up the right flight of stairs away from Harry.

"Where do I sleep then?" Harry called out after him.

"In the pantry with the others rats." Draco's belittling comment was nothing to Harry, as a pantry was bigger than a cupboard under the stairs.

"Better with rats that you I suppose," Harry retorted, not taking the time to dissect his comment. Draco halted, genuinely confused, wondering where Harry got the idea of sleeping with him. Of course, it could just be that Draco was self-centered enough to draw that conclusion in his slightly lusty mind.

"How charming. Follow me if you want a room not possessed or occupied by other...entities." Draco turned sharply on his heel, smirking, his silvery-black cloak billowing behind him. Harry hesitated, but then followed obediently as getting lost in unknown territory seemed worse than following Malfoy. As they walked through long stretches of corridors and up winding staircases, Draco would subtly glance over his shoulder, eyeing Harry as if he would attack at any moment. Each time he looked, Potter's eyes would be downcast and a haunted look would appear on his face. Draco figured that being pulled unknowingly into a situation such as this must have been difficult. Draco slowed his stride a bit, wondering why he cared whether or not Potter was uncomfortable. He didn't care, he thought, picking up his pace. It was simply a slip in his thought process, like the kind of slip you get when you uncomfortably find out you've been staring at a family member's backside too long, Draco assessed. It is definitely not a wanted thought, and it makes your stomach swish around disturbingly afterward.

Harry, meanwhile, was treading along behind Malfoy, dragging his feet on the stone floor every step the way. There was little light in the mansion itself, save for a few flickering candles mounted on the walls. Shadows played devious tricks to Harry's eyes as they traveled higher and higher. The last time Harry could remember walking with Malfoy had been the time in his first year when they had had detention together. It wasn't a pleasant experience, being that they bickered the entire way and he had to face the then fallen Voldemort alone. The experience didn't raise his spirits in light of this new one. Harry kept his eyesight low, but noticed that Malfoy would look back every so often, either to make sure he was still there or to make sure that Harry wouldn't think of attacking, he didn't know. It made no difference if he did, since Malfoy had his wand. Harry scowled. Lacking any means of attack, he bored imaginary holes into Draco's back.

At long last they reached a simple door at what must have been the very top of the tallest tower. Draco pushed open the heavy door, revealing a stunningly nice room. It wasn't nearly as grand as the hall was, nor was it as gloomy as the halls and stairways. Harry walked slowly inside, a stoic expression etched on his face. He firmly decided to not enjoy one moment of his time here, but found himself gazing about rather fascinated. His eyes roamed from the heavy set bed with silken sheets to the ceiling from which a chandelier impressively hung. He was surprised to find that the floor was carpeted, and that the room had not only a fireplace, but a small window seat tucked away modestly in the room. It was comfortable, but he knew he would rather be in his four poster at Hogwarts than in this furnished room. Malfoy's voice cut into the silence, and Harry was forcefully reminded that he was still there.

"I won't expect you to care, but breakfast is early, and I hate stragglers."

"I don't want to eat breakfast with you, Malfoy. I don't fancy puking so early in the morning."

"Why not? It might be green to match your eyes."

"Didn't know you noticed my eyes."

" 'His eyes are green like a fresh pickled toad' who could forget?" Harry cheeks drew a slight blush from the memory of when Ron's little sister wrote a Valentine poem about himself, sent a disgusting cherub to him, and was then was pointed out as the writer by Malfoy himself.

"At least I got a valentine, unlike yourself."

"I'd rather have none than one from the Weasley girl. Just her namesake is enough to cause someone to 'puke' as you so elegantly put it."

"Leave, Malfoy."

"Why should I do that? It's actually my room, after all."

"Because I don't want you here."

"And what makes you think I care about what you want?"

"Well, stay then."

"I'll just be leaving. See you tomorrow, Potter." Malfoy's snigger echoed through the tower, and the door closed with a loud bang. Harry fell face first onto the bed, willing his head to stop spinning. His whole world had turned upside down in the matter of only an hour or so. He was stuck in a situation that he couldn't control, and nothing irked Harry more than not being able to control his situation. If he were any sleepier he would have nodded off the sleep on his new bed, but worries were bombarding themselves inside his head. Forcibly he sat up in bed, looking at the room just one more time. His sight narrowed in on an arrangement of gift wrapped items in the corner of the room. Harry smiled. Dumbledore must have sent his Christmas presents with him. Harry smiled, thankful that Dumbledore had at least realized that he would want his gifts. Feeling slightly giddy, Harry walked light footed to the presents, feeling as excited as he felt the very first time he had received a respectable present on his first year at Hogwarts.

The first was from Mrs. Weasley, the usual tin of fudge and a Weasley sweater. Harry grinned, pulling the sweater on and smelling the shirt. It smelled like Ron's house, the odor of cleanliness, some strange perfume, and a touch of smoke undoubtedly from one of the twin's botched experiments. He then ate a piece of fudge, painfully aware of the fact that it would be a long while until he saw Ron's mother again. Ron's family had become a surrogate family over the past few years, and he hated to know that he might never see them again. The next present was from Ron himself, and it was a Chudley Cannons poster. Harry bound it to the wall using a piece of Muggle bubble gum in his pocket, feeling a little more at home with the sweater and poster.

Harry went through the lot, sorting out each gift he received. A book of dragons from Hagrid, a silver necklace from Cho Chang, even a miniature Quidditch board game from Neville. Harry smiled as he opened each one, feeling better and better as the gift wrap engulfed him.

One of the last presents was from Hermione. It wasn't a book, like he always figured she would give him. It was a Warding Amulet, very powerful and kept evil at bay. Harry smirked, sometimes wondering if Hermione had any skill in predicting the future. But he knew of Hermione's loathing of divination more than anyone else and kept in mind the day when the his intelligent friend had shocked everyone by leaving a class out of anger. Harry smiled broadly. His two best friends were great, and he would miss them so much. A half hour to talk every once in a while was nothing compared to the long talks and the times they always shared. Now he was in the very presence of evil, and neither of his friends could help. Yet was he really in presence of evil? Dumbledore had said that he was safer here than anywhere else. If it was that safe, then why did he have such a bad feeling about all this? Why did the same questions pop up in his head and why did he doubt everything that Dumbledore said? Harry fell asleep in a tangle of gift wrap and presents, dreaming of his true home so far away.

*****

In another room in another part of the castle, Draco was gazing intently at his orb, watching a clan of Death Eaters plan another raid on Muggles in upper London. Draco had already informed Dumbledore of this and was tiring of watching the same boring conversation. He sighed, falling back into his ruffled sheets and clutched the sphere with both hands. Curiosity overcame him, and Draco found his mind drifting away from his intended task. There had been countless times Draco would have given anything to have his orb with him at Hogwarts. The things he could have done to Potter and his friends! But unfortunately, because of his father, he was forced to leave it at the Manor. So now he had Potter practically in his hands. Whatever should he do? Grinning maliciously, Draco summoned a certain image to appear.

Harry was laying among a pile of wrapping paper, his mouth gaped open, hands and feet sprawled every which way. Draco laughed loudly, but immediately stifled his initial outburst quickly. Covering up any kind of laughter that sounded fun and carefree was a specialty of Draco's. Instead he focused on how utterly ridiculous Harry looked, soaking up his lowly gifts like a fat, muddy pig soaking up sun. Draco cleared the image, settling into his covers with an uplifted spirit. Draco scoffed to himself at how inferior Harry was to him, and prided himself on having excellent breeding and refinement. It only figured that Potter would enjoy such ridiculous gifts, being that they came from his group of friends and acquaintances. If only Harry would have just been smart enough to have been Draco's friend in the first place... Draco flinched, pushing the memory from his mind. It was enough that his mother had died, now he was stuck with a common low-brow orphan without his own thoughts betraying him. He slept that night as he did all other nights, his mind tiring itself out from his constant train of bothersome thoughts.

Will Harry make it to breakfast tomorrow?

Will someone save Harry?

Will Draco catch Harry 'polishing his wand' in the Orb of Visions?