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Title: The Imperfect Revenge

Author: Breanna Tala
Time Period: HBP compliant -- after the war.
Summary: Written for a contest on Third Floor Corridor. Harry gets to chose a slave (one of the death eaters) and chooses Snape for revenge reasons.
Warnings: Descriptive sexual torture. No romance.
Rating: R. Mature Adult

Disclaimer: I do not own J.K. Rowling's Characters. This is merely a fanfiction.

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Harry watched, smirking, as his new slave kneeled on the hard wood floor of the manor’s attic, sorting through one of the many trunks that held generations of Potter family memoirs. His smirk slowly changed to a thoughtful frown, wondering. It didn’t seem enough.

The jobs he had given to Snape, he knew, were slightly painful, irritating, and downgrading to the traitor, but it didn’t seem enough. They were emotions that are soon forgotten and did not do much to teach a lesson of any variety; it brewed resentment and harbored hostility, yes, but that was not what Harry wanted. He wanted Snape to understand he did wrong; make him realize that he deserved this and that he had no right to hate and resent anything but himself.

Tonight, he thought, smirking once again, knowing how to start his true revenge.

Two years ago, he had been at the mercy of several Death Eaters. Voldemort hadn’t been around, but the experience was nonetheless horrible; being forcibly stripped and played with was worse than the cuts before and beatings he received afterwards.

One of the Death Eaters present had been Snape.

The torture had started out nonsexual . . .

The nameless, mask-less Death Eater sat on his stomach, pinning him to the ground painfully. Because of the weight, he was having trouble breathing and his efforts to push off the man seemed pointless; he had been in the cell for two days already, and he was weak from the lack of food and the minimal amount of water he was given. The blue-eyed man smirked playfully, first tracing a cold dagger over his face then painfully down his throat before carving deeper lines into his arms and chest. The cuts were numb at first, and it wasn’t until he looked down at his chest that he realized how much blood he was losing and how much it stung. The stinging, at first, felt uncomfortably cold; slowly, though, his body began to feel as if it were on fire; a burn from a stove top, a hundred times worse . . .Concentrate on the pain in your mouth! he thought to himself, willing his thoughts away from the unwanted fondling of his genitals.

It felt as if the torture had gone on for an eternity. Since then, he had began hating his body to the point of not being able to look at or touch himself. He still had light scars where the dagger had cut him, only reminding him of how his body chose to betray him. The entire day would have been so much easier and far less painful if his body didn’t react!

He chooses to act like an animal, Harry thought, so he’ll be treated like one!

It was a few hours later when Harry followed Snape into the small, prison-like, windowless room where the slave now slept, which was originally a walk in closet. The walls were white and the ceiling was low, only a foot above Harry’s head. The makeshift bed was merely a pillow and two light blankets, allowing for very little comfort on the hard, wood floor. Granted, it was more comfortable than anything Snape received in Azkaban. There was a pitcher next to the ‘bed’ that was charmed to continuously provide cool water for when Snape was locked in the small room for extended periods of time. The felon wasn’t trustworthy enough to not keep him locked up when he wasn’t being watching, so there was a bucket in the corner charmed to vanish it’s contents immediately for the same reason.

Realizing he had been followed, Snape turned and gave him a defiant glance, but he remained standing, avoiding the eyes of his master and awaiting what he assumed would be instructions.

"Do you even realize the pain you’ve caused?" Harry asked dangerously. "Do you even care?"

"Yes, Master," Snape replied quietly, continuing to avoid Harry’s glare. In doing so, he missed seeing the younger wizard shudder at being called ‘Master’, but Harry realized that until Snape learned his lesson, the title was necessary, as uncomfortable as it was. He knew that Snape, as ‘obedient’ as he had been so far, only saw this as more of an annoyance and a shot to his pride and that he would find a way out of it eventually.

"I don’t think you do," Harry spat. "You’re an animal!" He took a breath, calming himself. He did not want to loose control of his emotions and somehow hurt Snape. His goal was to teach the man a lesson without corporal punishment. "So therefore, you will be treated like one," he continued, repeating his thoughts from before out loud.

Snape finally looked up, a questioning, reluctant, and a barely understanding look in his eyes.

"Undress," Harry stated simply. The pause was undeniably uncomfortable as Snape tried to comprehend what his Master was asking of him.

"What?" he growled. "Potter–."

Harry, angry despite his understanding of the man’s outburst, pulled his wand and pointed it at him.

"I don’t think you want to finish that," Harry said with false calmness. "Now, you have two options. One, you strip now. You will be given food and you will be allowed out to do your chores. Or, option two, you refuse. You will then be locked in here, without food, until you comply. What is your decision?"

"If you think–."

"Oh, yes, Snape, I do think," Harry sneered, his wand still pointing at his ex-professor. "I could do a lot worse, I’m sure you know. And all legal, too. Would you prefer whippings? They’ve been selling whips for exactly this purpose. Seems that most owners have been using beatings to keep their slaves under control. Now, I suppose I have been rather lenient . . ." he looked at Snape questioningly. The man stood there, his arms crossed and a glare that spoke refusal. Harry shrugged and left, shutting the door before checking to make sure the wards raised automatically.

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Severus glared at the closed door, bursting with anger. How dare Potter! Undress?! He paled, remembering the day that Jugson started that . . . game with the boy two years ago. It was utterly disgusting, but considering the circumstances, he had no choice but to stay.

Sitting down on the pillow, he cradled his head in his hands, horrified with what Potter’s plan with him was and wondering what he could do to try and make the boy understand that he didn’t have a part in it. Even after he was given the vial of Potter’s sperm, he destroyed it, privately; the brat didn’t need the Dark Lord having any bit of his genetic material, no matter now slight it would have been.

He was angry more at the Ministry than at Potter, although not by much; if their situations were reversed, he would probably be doing the same thing, but this was Potter! He was supposed to be above all this revengeful behavior. It was something that Albus bragged about often while he was alive. "The child has a pure heart," he was always saying.

"Arg!" he grunted out, punching the stone-lined wall. Potter had definitely changed over the years. His actions had become more thought out, more cunning, and much, much less impulsive. The final battle between him and the Dark Lord proved it; somehow, Potter had managed to predict the actions of almost everyone, leaving the two to battle it out in place that Potter chose, leaving no possible way for any interference.

Leaning against the wall, he entertained himself with ways to hurt those working at the Ministry of Magic. Their actions, he believed, were not very well thought out; by enslaving all the followers of the Dark Lord, they started up once again what the wizarding world had been fighting to put an end to for hundreds of years: slavery. Severus was sure that being a slave would affect other Death Eaters more than himself. After all, he never planned on having children, and he was quite certain that Potter wouldn’t force him.

But those that will . . . most slave owners buy slaves with no intention of freeing any offspring of said slaves. Perhaps there are a few out there who bought someone solely for punishment of that individual, but it would be only a few.

Still, if the Ministry is deciding now that slavery is the ideal punishment for those the Dark Lord’s followers, what was stopping them from expanding that to all those who were given a life sentence, no matter what it was for?

Severus laid down, trying to ignore his nagging stomach. Potter hadn’t been around that morning to give him food and he must have forgotten later, so he hadn’t eaten since the night before. Still, he was almost glad, almost, that Potter was his owner instead of someone who dealt harsher punishments and more horrid living conditions. This . . . cell was certainly more comfortable than anything in Azkaban and he was never given much to do outside of it, which made his enslavement more like comfortable prison time. Granted, it was likely that was because Potter didn’t trust him with tasks such as making food without poisoning it.

He had to admit that being Potter’s slave was better than he had originally thought. Usually, he received several meals a day and he was supplied with a few items to keep his attention for the long periods of time he was not let out: parchment, a quill, ink, a few pencils, and a few novels . . . the novels were muggle, but surprisingly good. But he had finished the books and with no use for any of the writing materials, he was once again without anything to do.

And he had no idea when he was to be let out or fed. Potter said he wasn’t going to be fed until he complied with the demand that he took off his clothes . . . he assumed that meant everything. Briefly, he wondered why the boy didn’t just vanish his clothes. Severus refused to strip, for any reason.

Thinking about it more, though, he began to think of reason why he was asked. His initial thought was that Potter wanted to hurt Severus like Jugson hurt him, but he had a strong feeling that Potter wouldn’t do that. It seemed more of a . . .

Potter said something about him being treated as an animal for acting like one. What Jugson did was, perhaps, primitive behavior, and no one had stopped him. In fact, almost everyone there had suggested more for him to do. It was disgusting.

Now sure that he understood, he thought of the implications of him complying. By willingly stripping, he would be saying that he understood that he is of lower value to Potter, that he understood the boy was his master, his owner. That he understood his life wasn’t worth much and that he deserved this.

Perhaps I do, he thought to himself. He killed his mentor; he lied to everyone; refused to step into a situation where he was needed . . .

Potter didn’t know that if it wasn’t for him, he would not have escaped that time. That was unimportant. He should have gotten him out of there before the torture session. He should have found a way to stop it. He shouldn’t have agreed to anything . . .

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Harry stared intently at the clock, debating whether to check up on Snape. It had been three days, which mean four days without food. From experience, he knew that the slave was probably weak and sleepy.

He did feel bad for starving the man, really. He had meant to give him another chance to decide two days ago, but the Minister sent someone to check up on him, and the woman stayed for two days, against Harry’s protests. For that reason, he had avoided Snape’s cell. He did not want her, or anyone, for that matter, to know where Snape slept. If he was ever gone and someone got in, someone who wanted him dead or to torture him for his sins, Snape would have no means of defense. Harry didn’t like the man, but he was still responsible for his life.

Slowly climbing the stairs to the third floor, Harry went to the door of the room and opened it slowly, in case Snape decided to attack. The small room’s lighting, which could be controlled by Snape or Harry, was almost pitch black. Ordering the lights bright enough to see, Harry stepped into the room and shut the door behind him; the wards would let him leave. Snape was laying in his makeshift bed and had closed his eyes tightly when the lights suddenly brightened.

"Well, Snape, you’ve been given enough time to decided. What’s your decision? No food or no clothes?"

Opening his eyes slowly, Snape stood up, resignation written on his face. He hesitated before unzipping his robes, letting the black cloth fall to the ground. Now merely wearing a plain, dirty white t-shirt, shorts, and socks he paused, looking up at his master questioningly.

"Continue," Harry said flatly, watching every movement carefully. He saw Snape take a deep breath and pull off his socks, dropping them atop the robes. After a nod from Harry, he pulled his shirt over his head, messing his unwashed, shoulder-blade length hair. Slightly shaking, he lowered his shorts and stepped out of them.

Now completely naked, Snape stood in place as Harry looked him over. Although not interested in the male body, Harry wanted to make Snape as uncomfortable as possible without touching him.

He noted how skinny the older man was from his time in Azkaban; the lack of food for the past four days didn’t do much to help that. His black hair was long and greasy, reminding him that he needed to allow that man to bathe; his face was resigned but nervous; he didn’t seem to know what to expect from his punishment.

Harry let his eyes lower to the man’s torso. Despite being too thin, he had well-shaped muscles, and his chest was almost looked hairless, the hairs being thin and short and barely noticeable. Forcing himself to lower his gaze further, his eyes rested on the man’s crotch and Harry almost started shaking from the memory of what the Death Eater did to him. Still, he forced himself to keep his eyes on it, examining.

Having enough, he quickly glanced over the thin legs before looking Snape in the face again. His eyes were closed, but not tightly.

"Gather your clothes and give them to me," Harry said without emotion, trying his best not to break down and tell the man to get his clothes back on instead. Slowly, the man complied, handing the bundle of clothes to him. "Are you hungry?" Harry asked his slave, without malice. Snape nodded. "Follow me, then."

Both uncomfortable, they walked out of the small cell and into the third floor hallway. Walking slow down to the ground floor and into the kitchen, Harry took two cans of soup from the cupboard after throwing Snape’s clothes into a corner. Opening both and dumping the contents into a saucer pan, he put it on the stove. That heating, Harry took out a loaf of bread, cut two slices, added some meat and some vegetables and set it down on the table. He himself was not hungry; he now felt too ill too eat.

"Sit and eat," Harry snapped, before pouring a glass of water from a pitcher in the refrigerator and setting it down next to the plate. Snape, who was eating slowly, ignored the water in favor for his food. Making sure the soup was warm, he poured as much of it as he could into his largest bowl, threw in a spoon, and put it roughly on the table, spilling some on the table. Sitting himself down on the chair across from Snape, Harry watched him intently, just wanting to sick up.

This is wrong, he thought before laying his head down on his arms. It was a few moments before he rose his head again. Snape, although still eating, was looking at him with a blank, unreadable face.

"I’m just as bad as you, aren’t I?" Harry asked. When he realized that Snape wouldn’t answer for fear of a punishment, he continued. "Treating you less than human, starving you to get the answers I want . . . I’ve become what I’ve always hated. I’m horrible." Resting his head on his arms again, he mumbled, "You can get your clothes on. I’m sorry . . ."

After a moment of pause, he heard Snape move to the corner he threw the clothes earlier. Expecting the man to sit and continue eating or just leave, he was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up he saw Snape kneeling beside him, now looking down with his hands in his lap.

"You’re not as bad as I am," Snape said. "I’ve let anger consume my entire life, these last years before the destruction of the Dark Lord being the worst. I’ve made promises that should have never been asked of me, while giving up wondering if it really was the for the best. Albus–."

"How dare you bring him into this! He trusted you! A trust that was extremely misplaced!" Slamming his fist on the table, Harry looked angrily at his slave. Snape refused to back down.

"A trust that wasn’t misplaced," Snape whispered. "I did everything he asked of me, with no thought of myself. Even . . ."

"What you’re saying is unthinkable!" Harry spat. "You’re saying that he asked you to kill him? Why would . . ."

Harry paled, that awful night coming back to him. Suddenly, he knew. A small shift of view, one small detail, and everything fit together; what he couldn’t understand for the longest time he know completely understood. "He knew. He knew that it was Malfoy who was trying to kill him! And you . . . you . . ."

"I had made the mistake of making an Unbreakable Vow, agreeing to protect Malfoy and . . . finish his job if he was unable. I had started the night hoping to learn more of what the Dark Lord’s plan was and ended it with agreeing to a job I only had hints of what it entailed. I told Albus, and when we came to a conclusion . . . I no longer wanted to.

"He convinced me to continue to watch Malfoy. I did, glad yet angry for the boy being so stupid, the pathetic attempts the brat made at my mentor’s life. Albus knew what would come, and that it was inevitable. I didn’t have to, though. The Unbreakable Vow I made with Albus when I first came to him voided the last part of Narcissa’s request . . . but he made me promise I would."

Harry looked at Snape, not wanting to believe it, but after all, it all added up, all made sense.

"Just finish eating," Harry said, frustrated; he stood up and walked to the door, stopping just before leaving.

"You are free to roam the house as long as you do not go outside. I have a feeling the Ministry is watching me, and although they will not be able to get in, it could be dangerous outside. I will be giving you a list of chores later," he said flatly, then left to go think things over.

He couldn’t free Snape, he knew. There was no evidence left that could prove him innocent, or as innocent as a killer could be, so if he freed him from slavery, he would go back to Azkaban. No, the better choice was for him to stay here, working for his room and board; working for his limited freedom.

Never again would he be so horrible as he had been to Snape these past few days. Never.

Title: United

Author: Breanna Tala
Time Period: AU 6th year.
Summary: Harry and Draco become friends.
Warnings: Slytherin-Gryffindor friendship . . . not really a warning.

Disclaimer: I do not own J.K. Rowling's Characters. This is merely a fanfiction.

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Harry looked over the lake as night started to fall. He’s been back at school for a week now, but he felt as lonely as if he was back at the Dursley’s, locked in Dudley’s second bedroom. Even though Voldemort’s re-rising was now public, the entire school seemed cheerful, and it make Harry distance himself even more.

He tried talking to Ron and Hermione. Even Ginny. But they weren’t understanding the pain he was feeling. He had gotten too many people killed over the past few years, and the burden of the prophesy was bearing down on him like a lead weight.

And then there was Sirius. He tried blaming Snape. It was, after all, Snape who was constantly on Sirius’ back for not being able to do anything for the Order. Harry even went as far as to blame Dumbledore. If he had told Harry what was going on in the first place, Harry would have tried harder at his Occlumency lessons.

But Harry knew it was his fault. He could have done something different that day he had the vision of Sirius being tortured. He could have used to mirror, or even gone to one of the teachers. But he didn’t. He make a foolish mistake. He decided to take things into his own hands instead of handing it over to someone who would have made better choices. Harry shook his head.

"Well, well. If it isn’t Potter without his pets. Whatcha doing, Potter?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry said quietly, not able to scrounge up the energy he usually had for Malfoy.

"Aww, is something wrong with the Golden Boy Potter?" Malfoy sneered. Golden Boy, Harry thought. Yeah, the Golden Boy who gets everyone killed is more like it.

"I said leave me alone. I’m not in the mood to fight right now," Harry whispered, tears starting to form in his eyes. No! He thought. Not in front of Malfoy. The whole school will know!

Malfoy didn’t leave, but he didn’t keep up his taunting, either.

"Something really is wrong, isn’t it?" Malfoy asked, the tiniest traces of worry in his voice.

"Don’t you understand when I said leave me alone?!" Harry burst out, tears rolling uncontrollably down his face. He turned around and hid his face in his knees. Harry didn’t notice that Malfoy still hasn’t moved.

Malfoy looked at the Golden Boy. He has never seem him cry before. Never thought he had much reason to cry. Everyone loved him. He was the Golden Boy, after all. So seeing his cry was unsettling. He knew from experience that it took a lot to cry in front of an enemy. And that’s what Potter and Malfoy were. But, Malfoy thought, there must really be something wrong.

"What’s wrong Potter?" he asked.

"What do you care, Malfoy? Plan on spreading it around the school that the boy who lived was crying in front of you?

"No," he answered softly. He knew he was going to regret this, but his enemy was having a breakdown in front of him. He couldn’t just leave him. He knew the entire school would expect his to. His father would expect his to. Actually, his father would expect his little heir to use Potter’s weakness against him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

"You are obviously crying for a reason, especially if you are doing so in front of me. I won’t tell anyone. I know how embarrassing that is." At that, Harry looked up.

"What are you going on about, Malfoy?" Harry spat?

"I’m just saying I might know what it feels like," Malfoy said without thinking, then immediately regretted it.

"And how would you know what I am feeling right now, Malfoy? Have you gotten your Godfather killed? Put all your friends in danger? Feel as if you have no one who will understand because they just look at you with sympathy?" Harry was nearly yelling by the end of this. Malfoy shook his head.

"No to everyone but the last."

"What could bring on sympathy for you, Malfoy? You have everything."

"No, I don’t. My father . . ."

"Yes. Your father is in Azkaban. It must be terrible without him around to make everyone worship you."

"No. That’s not what I’m saying," Malfoy said quietly. Harry waited, irritated.

"Well? I told you what was wrong with me," he spat.

"I’m relieved, actually, that he is in Azkaban. He can’t . . . can’t. . ."

"Can’t what, Malfoy?"

"Touch me! Every time I do something wrong or not well enough, he hits, either physically or throws some sort of painful curse at me! Do you know what it is like to be whipped for the smallest thing? Or to be hit with the cruciatus curse because I disobeyed an order?" Harry looked down with realization in his eyes.

"Yes," he whispered. The two boys sat in silence until it was so dark the only light was the nearly full moon. They finally got up and each made their ways to their respective houses, doing their best to avoid being caught for being out so late.

For the next two weeks, there was an unspoken truce between the two boys. Each day, they’d meet by the lake, and either talk or sit in silence. Neither told anyone about their meetings.

When they’d talk, they would talk about their home lives, or how they were feeling about the current war. Malfoy would talk about his life with his parents, while Harry would relive his time with the Dursley’s.

"I don’t know what to do. My father expects me to become a death eater. In fact, everyone one does," Draco admitted on the 14^th day.

"And you don’t want to?" Harry asked, almost surprised.

"No. I don’t want to."

"You should tell someone. Dumbledore, or someone. They’ll help you," Harry urged. "I’ll help you. I know what it is like to have a burden of having to do something you don’t want. But you, unlike me, have a way out. The prophesy points to me. I have no way around it."

The next day in potions, for the first time every, Harry sat down next to Draco. They exchanged glancing, both with faint reassuring smiles on their faces. They took out their potions things, and didn’t realize the gawking faces around them.

Snape walked into his sixth year potions class, shutting the door behind him. Turning around, he saw something entirely unexpected. Potter and Malfoy were sitting at the same table. Stunned, he stared at them. They were discussing something in the Potions book and didn’t notice Snape.

Suddenly, Harry looked up and nudged Draco. Snape was staring at them. Draco also looked up and stopped talking. Realizing why Snape was staring at them and not taking points for talking, Harry looked around the room. Everyone was staring at them. Harry exchanged a look with Draco, and Draco rolled his eyes. This exchange must have knocked Snape out of his daze, because he started class.

After class, Harry persuaded Draco to go to Dumbledore, and he agreed to go with. At the gargoyle, the boys just stared.

"Do you know the password, Draco?" asked Harry.

"No," he answered shaking his head. "He had the password changed, and I didn’t get it yet."

"Well, I suppose we could try to guess the password. I’ve done it before, and he did get mad. If fact, he always seemed to expect me."

"And what do you two think you are doing?" questions a familiar sneering voice behind the two. Harry winced and turned around, but it was Draco who answered.

"We need to see Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape." Snape looked between the two with narrowed eyes.

"The headmaster will be away for about two weeks. If you need anything, go see Professor McGonagall." He said this to the two boys, but then turned specifically to Draco. "Are you sure this isn’t something that can be handled by your head of house?" Draco seemed to go pale.

"It’s nothing important, sir," he answered, then walked toward the dungeons at a fast pace.

"Draco!" Harry started after him. Draco turned around.

"It’s okay, Harry. I’ll see you later," he replied, then turned around and started walking again. Harry seemed to be in conflict whether to go after him or not, but decided to not follow. Instead, another thought came to his mind. The idea came to him when Snape asked Draco whether or not he could talk to him about it. Harry turned on Snape, who was watching Draco turn the corner.

"Can I trust you, sir?" Harry asked politely, not wanting to upset Snape. Snape looked surprised at the question, but did not lash out.

"Of course, Potter. Why do you ask?" Harry paused at this. He couldn’t explain about Draco without betraying his friend’s trust, so he decided to pull out feelings that have been growing inside of him for the past two weeks.

"I’ve been thinking, Professor," he started as Snape raised an eyebrow. I’ve made a lot of mistakes last year. It took me a long time, too long, to realize that I need to stop acting on impulse. That I need to start trusting the people around me. If I did in the first place . . ." Harry just shook his head. "I’m sick and tired of pointless hating a grudges. They don’t make any sense, especially now, when we should all be at least working together if not getting along.

"I know you dislike me, sir. At first, it was probably only because I reminded you of my dad. Later on, though I did give you many reasons to dislike me. Like last year." Harry looked down, then looked up into Snape’s eyes. "You were right. I wasn’t trying. I wasn’t told anything I thought I should know, and I wanted to know what was in the Department of Mysteries. I was wasting your time," he said, looking down again. Once more, he looked into Snape’s eyes, wishing him to find him sincere.

"And then I looked into your pensive. I don’t really know what was going through my mind at the time. I am sorry I invaded your privacy. But you also need to know that I’m not sorry I saw what I did. Before that, people kept letting me believe he was this great guy, someone out to have fun. No one ever told me he was a bully." Harry closed his eyes. "It disturbed me to no end when I found out how he treated you. I know what it is like to be bullied, and I know that if my father and I were the same age, I would never like him." Harry kept his eyes closed. He was trying to figure out where he was going with this. With Draco, the talks never had a point, except to relieve the pain.

"I need to know who I can trust, whether they like me or not, because I don’t want to make stupid mistakes anymore. My mistakes have caused enough deaths. Deaths that would never have happened had I listened." When Harry finally opened his eyes, he saw that Snape also had his eyes closed.

"Harry," Snape said, startling Harry by using his first name. Snape opened his eyes and looked at Harry. "Your apology is accepted." Then he grabbed Harry’s shoulders, making the boy look him in his eyes. "I am doing what I can to help bring down the Dark Lord, and I will do anything else possible, even if it means giving my life. I will give my life to save you, Harry, as I would with anyone in the Order, or any student in this school. You can trust me, Harry. And I trust you." Harry continued to keep eye contact with his professor, and he knew he could trust the man. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.

"Professor?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" he answered with a sigh. Harry looked around and quieted his voice to a whisper.

"Do you know the full contents of the prophesy?" Snape looked at Harry, stunned.

"No. I doubt anyone but the headmaster knows. Why?"

"He told me at the end of last year." Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy and looked him over. Potter knew the entire prophecy? "I wanted to see if you knew." After a pause, he added, "Thank you," quietly. Then he turned toward the Gryfindor tower and started walking. About 20 steps down he stopped short. He knew what he should do. He was still having visions and nightmares, even though he’d been practicing Occlumency during most of his spare time.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape. Harry turned around, looking like he was going to do something he was going to regret.

"Professor, I need to learn Occlumency. I need to start up lessons again . . ." He paused, looking for the right words. "I know after what I did last year," he started, but then stopped. He didn’t want to go into lessons that way. "Can we start our lessons again?" There was a pause that threatened to overwhelm Harry, and just when Harry was about to turn and make a run for it, Snape spoke up.

"Yes. You apologized, and I believe you were sincere. If you really wish to begin lessons again, we will. Tonight at seven sound good?" Harry nodded. "I will see you in my office, then," and started to walk away. "Potter, I am glad that you are more willing to follow rules and orders, but don’t discontinue to be suspicious. Although not obeying has caused some lives, it has saved many more." With that, Snape left.

"Thank you," Harry said to nothing but air.

At four, Harry met Draco out by the lake.

"You okay, Draco?" He nodded. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know Dumbledore was out. After you left, though, I talked to Snape for awhile," and Draco looked at him. Harry sat down. "I apologized for what I did last year, and asked for Occlumency lessons again," Draco nodded. He knew how Harry was still getting visions from the Dark Lord. "We can trust him, Draco. He’s on our side. I think you should tell him. He could give you advice about avoiding Voldemort." Draco flinched. The two boys sat in silence for awhile, contemplating what was just said.

"You are sure we can trust him?"

"Positive."

"Okay, then. But I don’t want to be alone," Draco shook his head. Another idea came to Harry.

"I have an Occlumency lesson today at seven. You could come with me, then explain before my lesson. I think he noticed something today, Draco." Draco seemed to think about this. Finally, he relented.

"I guess that will work," he said. Harry nodded. Meet you in front of Slytherin at quarter to seven? Then we’ll walk there together?" Draco nodded, and the two walked toward the castle, splitting up without saying anything in the Entrance Hall.

Harry was glad of what he was able to accomplish today. Working off his good mood, Harry started toward the Gryfindor tower, ready to talk to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione about his bad behavior lately. He was glad to see that those three were the only ones in the common room.

"Hey, guys," he said, getting nervous. He was worried they wouldn’t forgive him, and they had every reason not to. "I just want to say I’m sorry I’ve been such a prat the last couple of weeks. You guys don’t deserve that."

"So you just go off with Malfoy? Is that who you have been spending all your time with?" Ron asked, angry. Harry kept his anger in check.

"No, only some of the time. I spent most of the time by myself. And Draco isn’t that bad. He’s been having a lot of problems, as I have, and we talk to each other."

"Wait," Ginny interrupted. "You actually have conversations with Malfoy? About feelings?"

"Yes," Harry stated plainly. "He doesn’t pity me, and I don’t pity him. We understand each other, in some weird way. In a way, we have a lot of common in our past. He’s not the spoiled brat we thought he was. Yes, he is a spoiled brat, but not they way we thought he was."

"How, then?" Harry paused.

"He wouldn’t want me to tell."

"Oh, come on. What could be so bad? It’s Malfoy?"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione butt in. "I think it’s good that you and Malfoy are becoming friends. But I don’t like how you’ve been keeping us out. And Malfoy is the son of a Death Eater."

"Yeah, but he doesn’t want to be a Death Eater. Trust me on this one. Listen, guys, I know I’ve been a prat. I needed to work things out, but I think I did. Will you forgive me?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione exclaimed, attacking Harry with a hug. "Of course we forgive you. You know we are here for you, thought, right?"

"Yeah, Harry, we are here for you," said Ginny, joining in with the hug.

"Yeah, we are," said Ron, saying out of the group hug.

At quarter to seven, Harry was outside of the Slytherin entrance and waited for his companion. He was beginning to think that Draco was backing out, when out he came. Harry didn’t bother asking his friend if he was ready. He knew Draco wouldn’t like that.

When they reached Snape’s office, they were a few minutes early, but Harry knocked anyway. After a minute, an irritated "Come in!" came from inside.

"Hello, professor," said Harry, hesitantly.

"Potter," returned Snape. "I’ve never known you to be early in the five years I’ve known you. What’s the occasion?" Harry looked at Snape, confused, but then shrugged.

"Um, sir, before our lessons – er – Draco was wondering . . ." As Harry stammered, Draco came in from behind to allow Harry to save face.

"Sir, can we talk?"

"Alone?" he asked, looking at Potter. He was confused on why the Potter boy had to introduce Draco to talk to him own head of house. It must have something to do with what they were going to Dumbledore’s office, he thought.

"No, Harry can stay. He knows, anyway," said Malfoy. Snape looked between the two. What has gone on between them? Only last year, Malfoy and his gang took pride in bringing Potter down to Umbridge. He didn’t fully comprehend the change.

Draco didn’t know how to start. He decided with information that Snape would probably understand if Harry was right.

"I don’t want to become a Death Eater, sir. My parents expect me to, but I don’t want to. My father, he . . . he. . ." Draco looked to Harry, and Harry understood. He nodded, and Draco left the room.

"What is that about Potter?"

"He’s scared of his father, sir. He has been beating him since he was really young. And pain curses and the sorts." Snape looked horrified. Then his eyes narrowed at Harry.

"And how, pray tell, did you get this information? How come you and Mr. Malfoy had become what seems to be friends . . ."

"Er . . . it was – odd – how that happened. I really don’t remember how." Snape eyed Harry, suspicious.

"If you can find Mr. Malfoy, could you bring him in, please?"

"Sure," agreed Harry. "He’s probably right outside the door," he muttered so Snape wouldn’t hear him. Snape did hear him, but just raised an eyebrow at the boy walking toward the door. Harry opened the door enough to peak his head out. He was right, Draco was right there.

"He wants to talk to you. . ." Draco got up walked slowly through the door.

"Stay," he whispered, barely audible. Harry did stay, with a strange look from his professor, but didn’t listen. Instead, he thought. How did he because friends with Draco? They used each other as venting points, but they never did anything else. Maybe we just got to know each other too much.

He now knew that Draco didn’t want to become a Death Eater. And his father was in Voldemort’s inner circle. Harry thought to all the Slytherins. If Draco, of all people, didn’t want to become a Death Eater, what about others whose parents would also try forcing them? And Slytherins didn’t have much contact other than Slytherins. The other houses more or less avoided them. So how would they really know much else.

The sorting hat wanted all houses to unite. At first, the idea seem preposterous. But the more Harry thought about it, he began to understand how much sense it really did make. And Harry wanted to. But how? Harry thought to the D.A. last year. There were kids from every house but Slytherin.

The idea hit him then. They needed to reform the D.A., but it needed to be more secretive and selective. Open supporters of Voldemort would not be allowed in. It would take some craftiness to pull off, but Harry figured that with him and Draco working on it, along with him other friends, making sure they could trust the people they invite might not be that hard. Especially if Draco doesn’t let on he doesn’t want to be a Death Eater quite yet.

Harry started thinking up possible ways to find people to join, when he suddenly felt Snape in his head. He cleared his mind as quickly as possible, but not before Snape saw what he planned on doing with the D.A. And dreaded memories he didn’t want to remember. He was able to finally push him out, but when he did, he found himself on all fours in front of the chair he was sitting in.

"I realize you are busy in your thoughts, Potter, but we do have a lesson to start," sneered Snape. Harry looked up to see Snape smirking at him, and Draco having an unreadable expression on his face, somewhere between freaked out and amused. Harry shook his head and stood up slowing, a little dizzy. At least I didn’t hit my head this time.

"Now, I hope you will be better secured this year for your little army," Snape said. It took a little bit to understand what Snape was saying, but then it hit him out of his confusion.

"It’s the Defense Association," Harry stated.

"Oh, really? That’s why the list was headed "Dumbledore’s Army?" Harry looked down.

"That was a nick name. At the time, they wanted to be something that the Ministry would really not like. We were all pretty upset on what they were doing to the school. An army for Dumbledore, we figured, would be what Fudge feared the most, since for some reason, he thought that the headmaster wanted his job." Draco looked at him, understanding, as did Snape. But Snape also had a sparkle in his eye Harry had never seen before.

"Just be careful who you let in. And don’t tell any adult but Order members. I have a feeling the secrecy will come in useful someday. Also," he added, "pass it by with the Headmaster. Even secret school groups need to have permission by the headmaster."

"Yes, sir," answered Harry, confused.

"No, Draco. If you’ll excuse us, Harry has a lesson to take. And don’t bother waiting up for him. I have a feeling we are going to be here for awhile," he said, eyes narrowed at Harry. By reflex, Harry’s eyes went wide and he took a step back. This made Draco let out a laugh. Harry glared at him, but spoke quickly before he left.

"Could you meet me outside the room of requirement before breakfast tomorrow? Six thirty? I know it’s early, but I’ll explain then." He thought, the added quickly in a whisper, "D.A." Draco nodded, giving Harry a faint smile, then left, closing the door behind him. Harry turned to Snape, a weak feeling in his stomach.

Fifteen minutes before curfew, Snape finally let Harry leave. Harry felt he did better than last year. He had been practicing clearing his mind, anyway. He had been able to push Snape out of his mind a bunch of times, and even prevented entry twice. Snape, although very little, seemed pleased, so Harry, although exhausted, left the office in a good mood.

Harry got back to the common room to find his friends spread out, talking. He first went to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny and told them he is holding a meeting at 6:30 in the Room of Requirement. They all looked confused, but didn’t argue. They figured Harry had his reasons. Afterwards, Harry went around and found all those who followed him to the ministry last year. He figured he could trust those. Well, he told all of them but Luna, since she wasn’t in Gryfindor. After reminding them all not to travel in one big group, Harry went to bed.

The next morning, Harry got up before the others woke and entered the meeting room at 15 after six. He ran into Luna on the way there, oddly, and invited her. The room was really nice. There was a table in the middle of the room, with chairs, and the walls were lined with shelves of books. It really looked like a meeting room. Harry smile.

"This is great!" exclaimed Luna. Harry nodded.

Soon, the others started to trickle in. When everyone arrived, most very tired, Harry threw his idea on them. They were all staring suspiciously at Draco, but Draco didn’t seem like he cared.

"Okay, I agree," Hermione said, and everyone else nodded. "But how will we find out who we can trust enough to join?"

"I was figuring we could intermingle with the other houses, and meet new people in our own. Don’t tell anyone about the D.A. Just talk to them, get to know them. If we can trust that they are not supporting Voldemort, ask them if they are interested. Tell them what we are. We need to be extra careful this year though. Dumbledore will know, but most people cannot." Harry looked around at his fellow students at the table, all nodding in agreement.

"We should have a secret keeper," spoke up Draco for the first time during the meeting. Harry looked at Draco, surprised that he didn’t think that up himself. "And Harry, it should be you. You’ve had enough run-ins with Death Eaters. I don’t think they’d be able get anything out of you. When everyone verbally consented, Harry gave in. At the end of the meeting, Harry reminded everyone to eat breakfast with someone they didn’t know, which they, amazingly, didn’t argue to.

Two weeks later, it was amazing how different the atmosphere of the Great Hall was. It was always busy, and most people were happy, but now it just had an absolutely cheerful attitude that made Dumbledore very happy when he arrived back at school. Looking around at the students table from his perch at the head table, he saw something that surprised his greatly. Many things, actually.

What he saw was many of the students not sitting at their own table. In fact, groups here and there had a mixture of all four houses.

"Well, well. A lot seems to have changed in the two weeks I’ve been away. Tell me, what has happened to have caused this very exciting intermingling?" Albus asked his colleague. Snape smirked, which Albus noticed but didn’t mention, but the other teachers shrugged.

"No one really know, Albus," replied Minerva. One morning, it was just like this. It is rather odd. How it started, I haven’t been able to figure out." Albus nodded, looking around. The sight that surprised him the most was Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco huddled at the end of the Gryfindor table, intent on some conversation.

Harry was glad how things were working out. Even though at the end of two weeks, they only found ten additional D.A. members, the groups attempt at intermingling spread to others. Harry looked away from the conversation he was having with his four friends and looked around the hall, surprised to see how many non-Gryfindors there were at his table. There were only about ten that he could see, but it was a surprise to see it all the same. Before, no one sat at the table of a different house, unless there was some class project that needed to be worked on.

Harry looked up at the head table and saw Dumbledor staring at him. Harry gave him a big smile, and received one back. He turned back to his friends, and for the first time in two years, felt really good about how things were going in his life, despite the prophesy.

Title: Reluctant Alliance, Revenge Assumed

Author: Breanna Tala
Time Period: Harry's 25.
Summary: AU after Half Blood Prince. Harry and Snape have learned, rather reluctantly, to work together. With the Light losing the war, sometimes bonds need to be made. During a mission, Snape and Harry get captured.
Warnings: Character Deaths
Disclaimer: I do not own J.K. Rowling's Characters. This is merely a fanfiction.

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"This is your fault, Potter," the voice drawled flatly.

"My fault!"

"Yes," snapped Snape. "Your fault."

"And how do you come by that assumption, Snape? You’re so perfect that there is no way it can be yours? Yes, you just do what you are told to do. No thought for yourself!" Harry sneered at his ex-professor.

"It was your fault we were here in the first place," Snape answered, voice still flat. Snape had a way of sounding dangerous when he did that, but Harry wasn’t intimidated by it anymore. Hadn’t been for years; he had seen too much in his 25 short years.

Most would say that the war was lost. There weren’t many who were willing to fight for the side of the light anymore. Ever since Snape had killed Dumbledore, no one was able to step up as the leader like the one that the old wizard once was. It was something that Dumbledore didn’t take into account. He knew during Harry’s sixth year that he would die, but he didn’t appoint anyone. Didn’t get anyone ready.

In fact, if it wasn’t for Remus and McGonagall putting together the clues, they would have lost Snape as a spy. It took over a year before they figured out that Dumbledore ordered Snape to kill him if it came between that and Snape and Malfoy’s lives. It was then that Harry, reluctantly, found and contacted Snape, and it was then that they started working together.

Reluctantly, of course. The Order members that had survived were surprised that they both hadn’t killed each other for the amount of time they had to spend together. Snape, after killing Dumbledore, was promoted to a high position in Voldemort’s inner circle. No one suspected that he was still on the side of the light.

Until recently. Somehow, one of Voldemort’s spies found out that Snape was meeting with Harry Potter. They still weren’t sure how. No one but McGonagall, Lupin, Moody, the Weasley’s Granger, and Potter knew of Snape’s true alliances. They thought it might be Wormtail or another animagus who found a way in.

Which was why Harry Potter and Severus Snape were now trapped in the dungeon of a collapsed building. Harry had seen a snake leave one of the many hideouts, and he got Snape to help him follow the snake without being seen. His animagus form, a black owl, was much better in keeping an eye on a dark snake during the night than Harry’s form, which was a wolf.

The snake brought them to an old building that Severus remembered being at for a meeting once, years ago. It was hard to forget a place, what with its dark walls and taunting memories. They lost the snake somewhere in the lower dungeons, when the building above came down. Luckily, they were low enough underground that the falling stone and wood didn’t penetrate the floor of the upper dungeons. It did make it impossible to find the way they entered the dungeons, though.

"I swear we came in from over here," Harry mumbled to himself, ignoring Snape, who was about ten feet away, also looking for the closed exit.

"There," Snape said, not bothering pointing out where "there" was. "If we both use a pushing blasting curse, it should open the way slightly. Unfortunately, it will most likely cave in even further."

"Great. And us, being right below it, will get killed because of your stupidity. And where is ‘there’, exactly? I don’t see anything!" hissed Harry, getting irritated from just being in the presence of the older man.

"Not if we set up a shield to force it around us instead of on top of us, Potter. I’m surprised you’ve survived this long, being such a dunderhead."

"You know, Snape, you would think that after all these years, you would start coming up with more unique insults. They really are starting to get old," sneered Harry. Snape ignored the brat and manipulated a shield that would keep them from being buried when the blasted through the not-so-open stairwell. Harry went back to trying to find where the entrance actually was. Even with both his and Snape’s wand at maximum light, it was hard to see anything. Finally, he could make out a bunch of stone that was slightly different from the ceiling and walls. "Are you ready yet?"

"Yes. Now shut up. It’s bad enough . . ."

"It’s bad enough I have to put up with you insulting me constantly. Three, two, one . . ." Both men shot powerful blasting curse at the wall, and Harry shut his eyes to block out the image of the rocks falling on him. Sure, they weren’t actually going to hit him, but if he looked up, he figured it would be enough to give him a small heart attack. Eventually, the tumbling stopped, and Harry opened his eyes to find Snape smirking at him. "Oh, stop it," he mumbled before looking up to see the passageway cleared enough to get through.

"It would most likely be best for us to use our animagus forms," Snape grumbled, still smirking.

"Now what?" Harry asked as they arrived back at the hideout.

"Now, we need to move. Most likely, they know we are here and they could attack at anytime."

"Then why haven’t they?"

"They probably are trying to find where else we are hiding."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. I can’t believe that after all these years, you are still as big of a dunderhead as you were your first year."

"I’m not that bad," complained Harry. "I’ve gotten better at a lot of things. Hey, I can’t even whip up a basic healing potion and blood replenishing potion as quick as you can!"

"If you didn’t need them so much . . ." Snape started.

"Hey!"

"Now get your belongings, then start packing other things. I will notify the others that we are closing down this hideout. Once you are gone, I will set a trap for anyone who comes in." Harry nodded and followed Snape’s orders. Usually he was reluctant to listen to the man, but in situations like these, he did know best. Unfortunately.

An hour later, they were in a total different section of the country, claiming their room. Already, Snape and Harry knew they weren’t going to like it here as well as their other hideout. At the other one, it was just those two, but here it was slightly crowded. Crowded enough that they had to share a room.

Living in close quarters was going to be hard, they knew that. Everyone knew that. Unfortunately, it was the only free room, and neither was willing to room with anyone else. After about fifteen minutes of arguing, Minerva shoved them into a room and told them that they were both sleeping there. They glared at each other and moved to separate ends of the room, taking the beds as far away from each other as possible.

"You know, Potter, one of these days, you aren’t going to be so lucky, and they will kill you."

"Woah, Snape, where did that come from? Since when do you just start spouting the first thing that comes to your mind?" Harry said, unpacking his few belongings.

"It just occurred to me how often I save your life. One of these days, I’m not going to be there."

"I have saved your life many times too, you know. And anyone, if they kill me, I’m bringing alone as many Death Eaters as possible. You know as well as I that I won’t go down without a fight."

"Yes, but you often fight when you should run."

"And you run when you should fight. Some things are worth fighting for."

"You think I don’t know that, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Do you think I would be wasting my time around you if I didn’t believe that?"

"Of course not, Snape. I have to suffer your presence as well."

"Honestly," sighed Minerva from the doorway. "You two act as children. I’m surprised either of you are alive, with how much you bicker instead of working."

"I work," Severus and Harry claimed at the same time.

"Sure. Dinner is ready. I’m assuming you two are hungry?" Minerva asked, then disappeared from sight.

"Not that it is any of her business if we fight or not," mumbled Harry under his breath, following his ex professor.

"Do you have the veritaserum, Snape?" hissed Harry. The trap that Severus set had caught its prey: four Death Eaters.

"Of course. One at a time?"

"Oh, yes," replied Harry, taking the bottle from Snape and giving the closet Death Eater a few drops. "What is your name?"

"Joseph Canda."

"Who sent you?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Malfoy!" hissed Snape. "I thought he was killed."

"Was Malfoy killed?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"He faked his death."

"Why?" Harry asked, getting impatient.

"More freedom," Canda replied shortly. Harry could tell that the man was trying to get around the serum, but wasn’t having much luck. For safe measure, Harry gave him a few more drops.

Half an hour later, after all four Death Eaters were questioned, they had answers that they were looking for. Apparently, Riddle was becoming careless in whom he gave information to. Like where their meetings were held.

"I’ll take care of the fools," Severus said. "You start planning." Harry nodded and went back to their new hideout. The next scheduled meeting was the next day at dusk. They would attack then.

Severus arrived back much later after Harry.

"That took awhile. What did you do?"

"Altered their memories. They now believe that they killed us, though I do not know what the Dark Lord will do when they don’t bring back proof. They have no memories of the interrogations."

"I have talked about half of the people here. So far, we have ten who will accompany us to the meeting."

"Good. You talk to the others. I need to work on a few things," Snape said flatly, then left.

"Git," Harry mumbled, and went to go to the other wing of the hideout. He was surprised at the amount of people that lived there. Definitely more than he expected. Most of the people were families who had somehow defied Riddle to the point there was no chance that they could integrate themselves into his new ruling.

Therefore, most of the people in hiding, even those who were capable to do so, had no desire to fight. Out of the roughly hundred capable adults that Harry had talked to already, only ten were willing. Harry didn’t have high hope for a successful ambush. The only thing they had going for them was surprise, and even that could backfire.

Severus made his way to the lab. He had taken all his supplies from their previous hideout, so he knew he had everything he needed. He just hoped some incompetent fool didn’t bother him. He wasn’t sure the potion would work. After all, he had no way to test it. There was nothing to lose by trying it when he came face to face with Riddle.

This potion, hopefully, would be their way around the horcruxes. In theory, when Riddle breathes in the fumes from the gas produced, his bits of soul that he stored in horcruxes will not be able to resist the call from the main soul in Riddle’s body. They will make their way back to his body, and he would no longer be immortal.

This was all in theory, of course. Although Severus was sure in his potion developing skills, this was something that no one had been able to figure out before. In fact, Severus had found no research on the topic anywhere, so no one had probably tried. If it worked, though, the only obstacle for killing Riddle would be his dueling skills and his many servants.

Potter had been searching for the remaining horcruxes since the summer after his sixth year. It had been eight years, and he hadn’t had much luck. He figured out what happened with the locket . . . but where it was now, no one knew. At one point, it was at Grimmauld Place, and the Order turned the house inside out looking for it. Potter had a feeling that Dung lifted it sometime, and probably sold it, but he was killed shortly after Potter had turned 17. Whether Regulus Black had destroyed the soul piece, no one knew.

Potter knew that Severus was working on this potion. In fact, he had made several decent suggestions and help with a lot of the research when he had time. Severus would never admit it out loud, but Potter had gotten better at potions. Brewing the potion, Severus thought back to how far the brat had come. If Potter wanted to do something, he often did it, though. Still way too much Gryffindor in him, Severus thought.

"Ready everyone? They shouldn’t be expecting us, so we’ll have that advantage. Our main goal is to get Riddle to breathe in the fumes from the potion you all have been given. Other than that, to weaken them. Try not to kill any of them unless necessary. You all know our way of taking prisoners?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Everyone have the escape portkeys? They will bring you to our prison. Good. Okay, let’s go," Harry said, holding out the untraceable portkey he was holding.

A few seconds later, they were about a mile from where the meeting was supposed to be held, so they all cast a disillusionment charm on themselves and walked silently, wands ready.

They knew something was wrong before they arrived. How they knew, no one could ever figure out. Perhaps something was trying to warn them. As they neared the site, most people left, not being able to handle it. The only ones who stayed were Snape, Harry, and Moody. As no one knew why the others left, no one knew why those three stayed.

Almost as soon as they left, the remaining three were ambushed. Totally surrounded, they had no way of fighting back. Not that they didn’t try. No, they fought until they were unconscious.

All he felt was pain. He felt worse, of course, but it still hurt. Slowly opening his eyes, he expected to see the bright lights of an infirmary. Instead, all he saw was darkness. After blinking a few times, he noticed it wasn’t pure darkness. Somewhere a torch was lit. He sat up and was unable to suppress the urge to groan from pain.

The floor was cold and damp. Well, more than damp actually. There seemed to be a thin layer of water where he was sitting. He was right about a torch being lit. In what he assumed was a corner of the . . . room? cell? . . . was a very dim torch.

"They took everything," a voice came from behind him. Harry didn’t bother moving. He knew it would hurt. "I can only assume it was trap. We were foolish."

"Yes, we were," Harry answered Snape. "So, how come we are still alive?"

"Most likely, Riddle wants us to suffer for what we have done."

"Great. So the last of my days are stuck here with you."

"I’m not too pleased about it, either, Potter."

"Of course not," Harry agreed. In actuality, he was glad that Snape was there. As much as they fought, he had come to deeply respect the man. "So, what’s the plan?"

"There is none, Potter."

"So, we just wait here until they come to torture us? Kill us?" Harry asked softly.

"Yes. I assume you know some wandless magic?"

"Barely. I can accio my wand. A few weak shields, but that’s about it. You?"

"About the same. I doubt they’ll have our wands around, so we could try to accio one of the Death Eater’s wands."

"We could try," Harry said, choosing to lie back down, not caring that the ground was wet. "How stupid were we?"

"Very," Snape agreed.

"Do you know what happened to Moody?"

"No. Most likely, he was killed. If he was lucky, he escaped. With how paranoid he is, he probably had several . . ." Severus trailed off, and few seconds later, Harry knew why. Two Death Eaters were above him with their wands pointed at him.

"You’re coming with us, Potter," one of them hissed. Harry didn’t bother moving. If they wanted him, they had to take him. It hurt too much to move. He needed to save his energy. The Death Eaters made with roughly dragging him to wherever they were headed. Too soon for Harry’s likes, he was laying on the ground, Riddle a few feet away. Not wanting to be on the ground with him so close, Harry stood up, body screaming with pain.

"Riddle," Harry greeted with a nod.

"Potter. You have no right to call me Riddle."

"I will call you as I please," Harry said with defiance. A voice in the back of his head that sounded strangely like Snape warned him to be careful. Great, even now he harasses me about being too Gryffindor, Harry thought. Harry was about to speak up again when his entire body filled with pain and he couldn’t hold back his screams.

"Potter! Harry, can you hear me?" Harry heard a voice. That voice was very far away. Part of him wanted to answer, the other part told him not to bother. "The bleeding won’t stop. Damn. Come on, child, you can’t die yet. What ever happened to bringing the Death Eaters down with you? Do you wish to break that promise to yourself?" Severus continued to talk to the boy. The Death Eaters just threw him back into the cell after what was probably a few hours of torture. Severus didn’t know where exactly the torture happened, but he could hear Harry’s screams from where he was. He knew Harry wasn’t one to scream at pain. Whatever Riddle had used had to have been worse than crucio.

"Take care of them for me, Severus," he heard the quiet, raspy voice from the boy in his arms.

"Harry, listen to me. Concentrate on my voice. Use your magic to stop your bleeding. You’ve done it before," Severus pleaded.

"Can’t. Too tired . . ."

"Harry," Severus pleaded again, moving slightly.

"No, don’t leave, Severus. I don’t want to die alone," the fear strong in Harry’s voice for the first time in many years.

"I’m not going to leave you child. Just try to stop the bleeding. Come on," Severus repeat over and over again, trying his hardest to heal the boy in his arms, with no luck. They were both too weak to do anything more than what they were doing."

Twenty minutes later, Harry gave his last breath. Severus waited until there was no pulse before he put Harry down near the wall of the cell, on the straw that Riddle gave as the only comfort for his prisoners. He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to do it. He had to, though. If he didn’t, they would use his body for dark potion ingredients, and Severus knew Harry well enough that he knew the boy didn’t not want that.

Reluctantly, Severus took the torch from the wall, checked one more time to make he was truly dead, and set the straw on fire. He stepped back and watched the closest person he had to a friend he ever had burn, tears in his eyes for the first time since his mother died. He drew strength from the fire, preparing himself to fight when they came for him.

And fight he did. They came for him when the pyre was starting to die out. They were slightly surprised, and angry, to find Harry Potter’s body burned. It wasn’t part of their Lord’s plan. They were happy when Snape came quietly, though. Their Lord was correct in the assumption that seeing Potter die would weaken the traitor.

How wrong they were. If there is one thing that strengthens a person, whether for good or for bad, it is revenge. Severus didn’t plan on living through the next few minutes. The spell he was planning on performing would kill him, along with everyone within a certain radius. But it would serve it’s purpose, along with preventing Severus from suffering in pain himself. The spell was an ancient spell used by prisoners who had no way to escape. When Severus came across it, he never planned on someday having to use it. Now, though, he could think of nothing else that would meet the ends even slightly in his favor.

He didn’t even need a wand for it, since it was so old. Severus brought power into himself, preparing to start chanting. Almost close enough . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .

"Manitom kanimd, alphim kadanim, Manitom kanimd, alphim kadanim," Severus whispered over and over again. He could feel the power building. He knew that the ancient spell would protect him from the pain, another reason why he chose this spell. "Manitom kanimd, alphim kadanim, Manitom kanimd, alphim kadanim, Manitom kanimd, alphim kadanim, Man . . ."