Nights of Gethsemane

"Wake up, Potter."



The soft voice stirred Harry from his blissful slumber and he drifted into wakefulness, opening his eyes to gaze at the fuzzy image of Snape, who was standing beside the bed. Even with his vision not yet fully recovered from sleep, the blindingly bright lights and stark walls told him he had been returned to his cell during the night.



He struggled to push himself up onto his elbows, but his body was slow to obey. He felt extremely relaxed, as though he\'d had one hundred orgasms before falling asleep.



"Did you drug my tea?" he asked, as he finally managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand, wobbling on his feet.



Snape stepped away to conjure breakfast. "No. Why?"



As Harry walked to his chair, his blood stirred and reawakened his body, washing the fog of sleepiness away. He was alert and awake, yet still far more relaxed than he could ever remember being since he\'d been captured. "I feel brilliant."



Snape swept into his chair and picked up his tea cup. "I will examine you after you finish your meal, but I assume that the tightness has been worked out of your muscles."



Harry jumped up and down and shook out his limbs to test his reflexes. Despite his state of relaxation, his reaction time seemed to be as quick as ever. Satisfied that he\'d be able to do a full day of training, he took his chair and buttered his toast.



"That potion is amazing. Why don\'t you give it to me every day?"



"It needs to be kneaded directly into the skin to be properly effective and I\'ve not the time it requires. Besides, most of the relief comes from the massage rather than the potion itself."



Sometimes it seemed as though there wasn\'t anything Snape didn\'t know. "Where did you learn how to give massages? They don\'t teach it at Hogwarts, and I can\'t imagine Voldemort demanding an army of trained masseuses."



Snape\'s lips quirked. "Masseur," he corrected. "Masseuse is feminine. But no, the Dark Lord did not have me trained to be a masseur. I\'ve learned some of the art in order to give myself massages for occasions when I cannot visit a parlour."



"Why don\'t you just develop a potion?"



"Most muscle relaxants, even those targeted to work only on certain muscles, have unpleasant side effects, and I prefer to restrict the number of potions that I imbibe in order to reduce complications. I\'ve also found that forcing the muscles to relax unnaturally through potions or spells shortens the period of relief. Magic is not always the superior method, and massage is one of those arts in which I\'ve found Muggles to be far more proficient and effective." Snape paused to sip his tea. After he\'d set it down, he continued, "You\'ve queried as to what I would do should I find myself free of this place one day. First, I would have a nice, long massage. You may think me skilled at the task, but that is simply because you have never been properly massaged. Hire a professional and you will feel the difference immediately. Nothing in this world is more relaxing."



The wistful tone in which he said it startled Harry. It was the first time he had ever heard Snape express any sort of longing.



"He won\'t let you call in a masseur?"



"Even if I were to convince him of the superiority of a Muggle method, the masseur would be murdered after he\'d fulfilled his function." Snape shook his head. "I\'ve cast the Imperius Curse on some of my young Death Eater apprentices so that they may work on my back, but I\'ve found that giving oneself a decent massage is near impossible to do, even with the aid of magic."



"What about-" Harry cut himself short, realising that Snape must not have very close friends if he couldn\'t get a massage from any of the Death Eaters without forcing them. Pity stormed through him, and he found himself saying, "What about me?"



"You?" Snape\'s eyebrows drew together in confusion.



"Yeah, I could give you a massage." Even as he said it, he wondered at his words. Snape had basically raped him the night before, and he thought it would be some time before he allowed Snape to touch him outside of healing, much less offer to touch Snape. However, he felt no conflict or hesitation over his words. He wasn\'t sure why, but he wanted to do this. He needed to do this.



Snape shook his head. "That\'s unnecessary."



"No, I-" Harry tried to think of how to explain why he wanted to, but he didn\'t know himself exactly why he did. "I mean... we\'re in this together, you and me."



"I," corrected Snape automatically.



"And we both have to be at the peak of our health when we fight him. You are going to fight him with me, aren\'t you?"



"I will aid in whatever capacity is most beneficial to our cause."



"Then we both got to be ready. If I can\'t train properly when I\'m tense, then neither can you."



"You have no knowledge-"



"So, you\'ll teach me," Harry said with quiet conviction. "Besides, girls like blokes who can give massages, don\'t they?"



Snape\'s expression relaxed and an almost-smile graced his lips. "They do."



"If we are going to train later today then we should do this now." Harry finished off his pumpkin juice and stepped away from the table towards the sink.



"I agree." Snape stood up. "I\'ll return shortly." He strode from the room, shutting the bars behind him as he disappeared through the library door.



Harry rushed through his morning routine, then sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Snape. He idly plucked at a loose thread on his pillow case as he waited. Memories of the night before pushed at the edge of his consciousness, sending weights to his stomach. The feel of Snape\'s hands and his voice had been a source of pain and anguish as well as pleasure. The schizophrenic nature of Snape, of their entire relationship, left him confused as though he were adrift at sea in the middle of a violent hurricane. He needed to prove -- to himself more than to Snape -- that despite all that had happened between them, he still trusted the Potions Master.



Snape returned, striding into the room in a black cloud of robes. He began to undress, folding his clothes over the edge of the chair. His fingers flowed down his buttons and, with the aid of magic, he ended up with a bared torso in no time at all. Carrying the jar in his hand, he pressed it into Harry\'s hands before sliding onto the bed and stretching out face down on the mattress.



Clutching the jar, Harry shifted over to straddle Snape\'s hips. He had never been in this position before and a surge of power pulsed through him as he looked down. Snape lay with his eyes closed, his bare back exposed and open. There was something about the way Snape was lying, his arms folded beneath his head, that spoke of trust and even submission.



Now that Harry had Snape laid out beneath him, stretched across the bed, he wasn\'t sure what he was supposed to do. He fumbled with the lid on the jar.



"First, use light strokes over the entire area you wish to massage," said Snape as though he were delivering potions instructions.



Harry nodded (even though Snape\'s eyes were closed) and smeared the potion over the other man\'s shoulders. He bent down so that he might better see Snape\'s pale skin and the scars that crisscrossed his back. It had been a while since he had seen Snape\'s back up close, and he had forgotten how marred the surface was. He ran his fingers along the lines that zigzagged wildly in no discernible patterns. He traced their shapes, trying to make sense of them, but only one, a large, faint scar on Snape\'s upper shoulder that Harry noticed with his fingers more than his eyes, seemed to have a shape: that of a boot.



"The Dark Lord," Snape answered the unasked question. "When I returned to him after he took you to the graveyard. Most of them are from that time."



Harry continued his exploration, avoiding the scar Snape had received in his fight with the Order. He found an odd scar above Snape\'s left buttock that was the shape of a rectangle with one side missing.



"Belt buckle," explained Snape in the same nonchalant tone. "From my father before I learned healing spells."



"Why didn\'t your mum heal it?" asked Harry, appalled.



"She was at hospital."



Harry didn\'t need to ask why Snape\'s mother had been at hospital. His fingers drifted to the large wide scar he had tried to heal earlier. Upon touching the crinkled flesh, his resolve broke, and he no longer fought his impulse to stroke it.



"Who gave you this?" he asked as he rubbed his hand up and down the length of it.



"My back was turned, but I believe it was Kingsley."



Harry couldn\'t help but admire the scar, secretly enjoying the sight of it. The starkness of the other scars made him shiver as he thought of how powerful and dark the magic must\'ve been to prevent Snape from healing them. It wasn\'t as though he wanted Snape to be hurt, but the fresh scar that overlaid all the others, the biggest and deepest of them all, was a mark of Snape\'s devotion to him. Snape had received it trying to fight his way back to him, to protect him from Avery. How many more would Snape take to protect him? How far would he go?



Harry\'s left hand drifted up to finger the scar on his forehead given to him when his mother died to protect him. It was the only one of that type he ever hoped to receive. He never wanted a scar from someone else\'s death to protect him, but he would take as many scars as it took to protect Snape and his other loved ones.



"When you give a massage," Snape said, snapping Harry back to the task before him, "you must not press down on the spine."



"Right," acknowledged Harry as he placed his hands right below Snape\'s shoulders and pressed his palms against Snape\'s back as Snape had done to him. "Like this?" He tried to replicate Snape\'s actions as best he could. Snape\'s muscles were a wall of steel that barely gave way to Harry\'s pressure.



"Harder."



Harry pushed harder as he massaged the flesh as best he could.



"Harder, put your weight into it."



Harry leaned forward as if he were doing push-ups off Snape\'s back.



Snape gave a grunt of appreciation.



Harry knew he wasn\'t light. "That doesn\'t hurt?"



"It does, but only as it should," said Snape with more bliss than pain in his voice. "Now, move down the sides of my spine."



Harry obeyed, pushing hard on either side of Snape\'s spine as he worked his hands down to the small of Snape\'s back. The earlier feeling of dominance slipped away from him as he focused on trying to give Snape the best massage he could. Each noise of appreciation from Snape\'s throat drove him forward, and he quickly discovered that Snape liked it hard and deep rather than soft and gentle. As he pressed into a spot like stone, Snape inhaled in a sharp hiss.



"There, right there. Do you feel the knot? That\'s the worst of them."



Snape\'s whole back seemed to be one giant knot, but as Harry explored the area with his fingers, he could feel where the stone melted into softer flesh. Harry smeared more of the potion over his hands and set to work, massaging around the edges of the knot before he methodically kneaded his way in.



He concentrated hard on the area, trying to work away the tightness, but after several minutes, nothing had happened. "I don\'t feel any change."



"That\'s fine," said Snape lazily. "Move onto a different section."



Harry worked his way back up towards Snape\'s shoulders, this time trying to find all the knots. "You have them here," he announced, running his fingers up the knots which ran down the sides of Snape\'s spine. He could feel them now, like chords buried under the skin. "And here." He touched a hard area to the left of Snape\'s spine near his armpit.



"No, that\'s my shoulder blade." Snape\'s left hand sneaked back and grabbed Harry\'s wrist. "Feel the bone beneath my skin?" He rubbed Harry\'s fingers over the bone. "Now feel the knot." He pushed Harry\'s hand over to where the chorded knot lay. "Can you tell the difference?"



The knot moved like a rope laid over muscles, but the bone did not. "Yeah."



Snape released Harry\'s hand, and relaxed back against the bed.



Harry resumed his massage after smearing more of the potion on Snape\'s back.



"There\'s no need to smother me in it," Snape said. "A little bit goes a long way. Focus on the movement of your hands, rather than on the potion. Vary your strokes between hard and deep, and slow and soft."



Harry returned to the thick knot at the base of Snape\'s back and followed the instructions. It might\'ve been his imagination, but he thought it was smaller than before.



He hadn\'t been working on it for very long when Snape\'s eyes opened and he said, "If you don\'t begin your training now, we won\'t have time to do a whole session today."



Harry didn\'t mind continuing the massage but he did want to train, so he slid off Snape\'s back and headed to the sink to wash his hands.



"What will I be working on today?"



"You will begin with dodging and aiming, since it is imperative that your skills in those two tasks always remain well-honed." Snape\'s clothes flew to him and snapped around him. Once he was finished, he motioned for Harry to follow and the two of them left the cellar.



The morning went quickly. Harry had become quite proficient at aiming while dodging and he\'d hit all of the targets except for one by the time they paused for lunch. As usual, Snape chained him to the floor before leaving the room, although he also conjured a small table for Harry to eat off of when he returned.



"While I still believe my mail is monitored and delivered to a third location," said Snape, "I\'ve become convinced that the primary reason Strix has been delaying in delivering my post is that she is caring for her offspring."



Harry nearly dropped the spoon with which he had been stirring his beef stew. "Strix has chicks?"



"I believe so. I have not seen them myself, but I have been monitoring the directions of her flights compared to the addresses on my post. In the beginning, she seemed to fly in no discernible pattern, but lately, I\'ve noticed she always departs for the eastern forest after I have given her food. I assume that she has been hunting rather than delivering my post efficiently."



"But you haven\'t seen any chicks? Wouldn\'t they be here, near the house?"



"No. She may have chosen to hide them in the forest. I cannot tell for certain unless I were to step outside the Bounds of Secrecy. I doubt the Dark Lord would take kindly to allowing me to go beyond the Bounds to search for some daft bird\'s brood, even if I so desired. We will have to wait until she brings her owlets to the house for any confirmation of my theory."



"Bounds of Secrecy?"



"As you have probably surmised, this location is not one which can be wandered into by foot. In fact, if I were to leave, I would not be able to simply turn around and walk back in. I would have to Apparate in to the Apparition point."



Blinking in surprise, Harry asked, "They let people just Apparate in here?"



"You forget that one needs to know the exact location in order to Apparate and only a few are allowed to look at the enclosed room to which we Apparate."



"But, we went outside to go to your lab."



"Yes," said Snape, "only the Dark Lord and I are permitted to pass between my lab and the house. If I were forbidden, I could not properly collect my mail, and the house and the lab would have to be equally guarded. I may move to any location within the wards, which extend out over a fair bit of land in order to adequately hide the structures."



"So...." Harry mused as he tore off a chunk of roll and dipped it into his stew. "Even if someone were to have a device that allowed them to track my position, they wouldn\'t be able to get into the house. What would they see?"



"A field," answered Snape, watching Harry closely. "A field that, when travelled across, is shorter than it appears to be." After a pause, he said, "I assume that question wasn\'t just asked out of curiosity."



Harry grinned at him. "It wasn\'t," he said and returned to his stew. If Snape kept secrets, then so would he. Snape didn\'t try to press the point although Harry could tell he was curious. Hopefully, Ron and Hermione hadn\'t used the Deluminator to try to track him down and rescue him, but it explained why he hadn\'t been freed if they had.



"The Dark Lord will be arriving tonight," Snape announced in a tone that was too causal for his words. "I do not know the exact hour of his arrival although I do know he plans a small dinner. We will not have time for a contest today, even if you were so inclined."



Harry did feel inclined, but he said nothing. "Can I stay in my cell?"



"May," Snape corrected. "Unfortunately, I am fairly certain the Dark Lord will require your presence tonight. I will keep you close to me until it\'s time for torture." At the look of dismay on Harry\'s face, Snape added, "This should be the last torture session you will have to endure."



"Who is it tonight?" Harry pushed away his empty bowl.



"I believe that Mulciber will be rewarded with his favour. You must not expect him to be gentle with you due to our relatively intimate acquaintance. He had a talent for cruelty at Hogwarts and it may only have improved since his visit to America."



There was something about the tone in Snape\'s voice that set Harry on edge. Harry had the feeling that Mulciber would be quite cruel indeed. However, he couldn\'t be worse than Lucius. No one could be worse than Lucius. If Harry had endured Lucius three times, then he could endure Mulciber once.



"I can do it," Harry assured Snape. "We\'re almost at the end, right?"



"You should be free of this prison soon," said Snape with a tight nod.



Harry grinned at him. "Let\'s train!" He jumped to his feet and tugged at the chain connecting his left cuff to the floor. "Why don\'t you try shooting Dark Magic close to me and I\'ll see if I can get it to hit the chain."



"Absolutely not," snapped Snape. "I will cast benign spells if you wish to practise that task." He flicked his wand and the chain left the floor and reappeared between Harry\'s manacles.



"I do." Harry held up his fists and watched the tip of Snape\'s wand. After spending so many weeks working on dodging, it wasn\'t that hard to get the spell to pass through the chains every time.



"Don\'t be so obvious, Potter," said Snape. "The element of surprise is one of the greatest weapons you own. Start from your slave position and don\'t move until you are required to."



Harry obediently returned to his knees and lowered his head to the floor. When Snape cast, he waited until he felt the spell approaching before leaping up and rolling to the side while he thrust the chain into the path of the spell. He missed by a hand span and cursed his luck.



"You moved too soon," criticised Snape. "Let the spell come to you."



Nodding, Harry knelt on the floor again. By the time Snape finally ended the exercise, he had no problem getting spells to hit the chain. His spirits were high as he followed Snape down to the bath.



"What is our escape plan?" asked Harry.



"I will explain the details closer to the date," said Snape as he took his chair. "Your behaviour may unconsciously change in anticipation of it should you know the signs and I would like you to appear as innocent of the proceedings as possible."



Harry clenched his fists. What more could he do to convince Snape he was ready? "I\'ve been playing the slave for months now. I know how to do it."



"We need to have the element of surprise. You\'ve shown time and time again that you have the ability to react quickly to new situations. I have no doubt that you will be able to react appropriately when we begin. You have excellent instincts."



"All right." Compliments from Snape were so rare, Harry couldn\'t help but smile as he climbed into the shower. He was dying to know the plan, but he trusted Snape\'s judgement, and the last thing he wanted to do was cast suspicion on himself.



"Who do you think stole the Elder Wand?" Harry mused as he soaped his chest.



"I have a few leads," said Snape. "Hurry and finish your shower. I must prepare for my guests this evening."



Harry finished shampooing his hair and then turned off the water. He dried himself as he stepped out of the tub and walked over to Snape, who was already pouring some of the muscle potion into his hand. Harry turned around and rubbed the towel through his hair as Snape touched his shoulders.



Even though he had calmed down considerably since the night before, the touch of Snape\'s hands still sent a shiver through him as memories of the horrible session crowded his mind. He instinctively tensed, but forced himself to relax. There was no humiliation, no harsh words and, as the massage continued, it was easier and easier to let the stress drain from his body and enjoy the feel of Snape\'s hands sliding over his skin.



Snape rubbed the potion over Harry\'s neck then pulled his hands away. A wisp of leather and magic around Harry\'s neck announced the reappearance of the collar. Snape curled his fingers around Harry\'s upper arm. "Remember," he said in Harry\'s ear, his voice soft. "You are mine now. You have permission to refuse should anyone try to have sex with you."



"In any way?" asked Harry, taking a quick glance at Snape over his shoulder.



"Oral and anal," Snape announced as his hands slid down Harry\'s arms. "I don\'t intend to allow you out of my sight for the evening, so it should not become an issue."



Harry was now certain that Lucius had purchased the sex-change potion just to wiggle his slithery way outside the bounds of Snape\'s rules. Fucking bastard. Harry stepped away from Snape and picked up his towel. "Please don\'t let me out of your sight for one instance. They\'ll find loopholes in every rule you make."



"That they will," sighed Snape as he walked past Harry.



Harry followed Snape back to his cell.



Snape pulled out his wand. "I will set up the tone to alert you should anyone step into the library." He cast it into the same location as before and tucked his wand back in his robes before sweeping off.



Harry didn\'t feel like reading, but there wasn\'t much else he could do, and he didn\'t want to just sit there and wait to be tortured. He spread his towel down on the floor and retrieved Goethe\'s version of Faustus. It was just as boring and complex as the other, and he hadn\'t got very far when he heard the soft chime of a visitor. He slid the book under the mattress and then lay down on his bed, pretending to nap.



The library door opened and he lay still on his side, controlling his breaths so that they were deep and even.



"Wake up," said a voice he couldn\'t quite place.



Opening his eyes, Harry sat up and sneaked a peak at Mulciber standing on the other side of the bars. Where was Snape? He would never leave him alone with a Death Eater if he could prevent it. Had something happened to him?



"Come here."



Harry left his bed, crawling over to the bars, which opened for him.



"Stand up."



When he stood, Mulciber reached forward to touch the collar around his neck. "Did you ask for this?"



"Yes, sir."



"He\'s really got you brainwashed, hasn\'t he?"



It was such an odd question to ask and Harry frowned, letting his confusion show on his face.



Apparently, Mulciber didn\'t expect an answer for he motioned for Harry to move back into his cell. Harry retreated to his bed, hoping that would be the end of the \'interview\'. Instead, Mulciber walked into the cell and, with a wave of his hand, sent the table and all the chairs flying to one corner.



"Let\'s play a little game."



Either Mulciber didn\'t think Snape would care what he was about to do, or Snape couldn\'t stop him. The latter could not be true. Snape would cross Hell to defend him. He had promised. Whatever Mulciber planned to do, Harry could take it. This was the last torture session. Let it begin so he could be finished with it.



As if sensing Harry\'s hurry, Mulciber created a glass coffin on the floor with a few flicks of his wand.



"Get inside."



Harry climbed into it and lay down with his arms by his side. As soon as he had settled himself, the walls shrunk, pinning him in place.



Mulciber knelt, grinning down at Harry wolfishly. "Are you afraid of spiders?" he asked.



"No, sir," Harry said, extremely glad that Ron wasn\'t in the room. He almost sighed with relief at the knowledge of what the torture would entail. He had got used to spiders after living in a cupboard for more than a decade and the feel of their legs dancing across his skin was more ticklish than terrifying. He could do this, it shouldn\'t be harder than dealing with the Cruciatus Curse at the absolute worst.



"Not yet anyway," mused Mulciber as he reached into his robes and produced a small black box. He held it in plain view of Harry\'s vision and enlarged it. Reaching in, he removed a spider as big as the palm of his hand. It was black, incredibly furry, and composed mostly of long, fuzzy legs.



"These are Phoneutria," he said with the same nasty grin. "From South America. Their venom sacs have been removed, although they will leave a nasty welt should they bite." He dropped the spider back into the box. "Now, don\'t move." He up-ended the box over Harry, sprinkling spiders into the glass coffin.



Harry closed his eyes, trying to will himself not to move as he felt furry little legs scurrying over every inch of exposed skin. Ron would be terrified to see him covered in spiders like this. Just thinking of Ron\'s horrified face almost sent a grin across his own, but he swallowed it back down, determined to pretend that it was the worst torture he had ever received. While it wasn\'t the worst, it wasn\'t exactly a picnic either. The spiders didn\'t scare him, but their fuzzy legs tickled him. One time, Dudley\'s friends had held him down and tickled him until his entire body ached from the convulsions. If he didn\'t get out of this box soon, it would be the same as then.



Shaking, squeezing his eyes and mouth shut, Harry pretended that each sensation of tickling was a sensation of terror, and he struggled in his tiny coffin. Barks of laughter burst from Mulciber as if he was watching the most hilarious thing he had ever seen. The more Harry struggled or showed signs of terror, the more enjoyment he expressed. Better to keep him entertained. Harry was just getting good at his fake closed-mouth screams of terror when Snape returned.



As Harry\'s eyes were closed, he didn\'t see the entrance, but the snarl was unmistakable. "What do you think you are doing?" The glass coffin and spiders disappeared. No longer having to worry about spider legs on his eyeballs, Harry opened his eyes, catching the pure fury on Snape\'s face before he glanced away. Snape hadn\'t looked that angry in ... well, a long time. If that rage had been directed at him, he would have expected to be cursed.



"I\'m just having a laugh," protested Mulciber.



Yanking Harry to his feet, Snape\'s hands darted all over his skin as if knocking away invisible spiders. They\'d long since vanished and Harry had never been permitted on his feet around Death Eaters. Was Snape about to blow their cover? Bowing his head, he brushed Snape\'s arm, trying to convey he was fine, there was no need to be upset on his behalf. If Snape didn\'t calm down, Mulciber might guess their true relationship.



Snape wasn\'t easily pacified. "Are you stupid? The-"



"I took the venom sacs out," said Mulciber as if Snape should´ve known. "They aren\'t poi-."



Whirling around, Snape shoved Harry behind him. Caught off guard by the violent thrust, Harry nearly fell over. He righted himself, and sneaked a glance at Snape\'s ramrod back. Although Mulciber was tall, a bit taller than Snape, the Potions Master somehow managed to tower over him. "They can still bite and the Dark Lord does not permit the slave to be hurt outside of his presence. You\'ve been given the evening. If you want more time, talk to him. Don\'t ever touch my slave outside of my presence again."



"Relax, Severus. I wasn\'t planning to fuck him. He\'s all yours. Come on, let\'s go back to your lab."



With a sweep of his hand, Snape motioned for Mulciber to precede him out of the cell. "Go, I\'ll catch up." Turning around, he asked Harry in a softer voice, "Were you bitten?"



"No, Master," said Harry, stroking Snape\'s arm to try to calm him.



"Not that you were aware of, anyway. A welt might develop later." From his robes, Snape produced a small blue vial. "Take this, just in case."



A sleep potion. There was no point in insisting on staying awake while Death Eaters were crawling around the house eager to torture him. After quaffing half of the bottle\'s contents, Harry retreated to the bed, his vision swirling as consciousness fell from him.



~



"Up." Someone was slapping his cheek. A huge black cloud hung over him. "Up." He was pulled to a kneeling position by a tug on his collar. Sleepiness drifted from him as he swayed on his knees.



"Bow before your betters," said Snape\'s voice from the giant dark shape.



Shaking his head to try and clear the fuzziness, Harry bowed and nearly fell off the bed.



Someone pushed Harry back onto the bed as Mulciber asked, "Have you ever been permitted to torture him at a party?"



"Yes, when I\'d earned the Dark Lord\'s favour," came Snape\'s reply.



"I should think you would continuously remain there. Have you not received the greatest of prizes?"



"I am a prisoner almost as much as he. Possession of him has been a curse as well as a blessing. However, the Dark Lord has been most generous to me. Now, my ownership will continue no matter the slave\'s guard as long as I remain in his favour."



"Ah, I heard that he\'s to be given to Malfoy."



"For a few days Malfoy will physically possess him," Snape confirmed, petting Harry\'s back in slow, relaxing circles. Harry melted into his touch. "Whilst I conduct errands the Dark Lord entrusts only to me. After that, I\'ll be permitted to take him everywhere."



"Everywhere?" Harry could hear the doubt he couldn\'t see.



"If the errands are successful."



"Be careful, Severus. The Dark Lord is rarely so generous without exacting a price."



"Soon, I will give him a gift beyond any other," explained Snape. "Come, the Dark Lord is expecting us. You should go to him now, before the others have gathered, and thank him for this gift in private."



"You\'re right. How is it that you are so much better at this than those of us born into it?" Without waiting for an answer, Mulciber hurried off.



Fingers tightened on the back of Harry\'s neck, and Snape whispered in his ear, "If you perform perfectly tonight, I\'ll give you a reward. There is one important thing to remember for the rest of this evening -- not everything will be as it appears." Puzzling over what Snape could possibly mean, Harry allowed himself to be pulled up to the throne room.



The sleeping potion still hadn\'t completely worn off by the time they paused before the throne. Harry kept Snape in the corner of his eye in order to determine when and which direction to bow.



Before long, Snape swept away without the tug on the leash to pull Harry with him. Curling his fists in his lap, Harry steadied himself.



"Thank you for this honour, my Lord." Mulciber\'s voice rang out in the throne room. "I have learnt a few things from our North American allies that I hope will entertain you."



In a darker voice, he ordered Harry, "Lie down on the floor."



Stretching out face down on the marble, Harry waited.



"This-" Mulciber announced to the crowd. "-is Wendigo Fire. From the witches of Labrador, Canada, it is a potion of cold so intense that it burns. Watch."



"One."



Lava, it was as hot as lava, dripped between his shoulder blades. Screaming, he rolled around, trying to brush the potion off as his skin melted away, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. Ropes appeared around his arms and legs, forcing him onto his stomach and pinning him to the floor as they spread his limbs.



Throwing up his walls, he retreated to safety behind them. Just when the intense fire of the drop had started to fade from unbearable agony to raw pain and he thought his technique was working, Mulciber said, "Two" and another drop hit his back below his right shoulder blade. A wild-fire of pain, as sharp and fierce as the first drop, surged through him. His back curled, nearly bending him in half as his body tried to escape even though he had consciously stopped struggling.



He had to calm down. He had to ride it out. It couldn\'t last forever. Only a few more hours. Only a bit longer.



With slow precision, Mulciber waited until Harry\'s screaming had died to whimpers and he lay, unable to do anything but shake and sweat, before he let the third drop fall.



The pain nearly blacked him out, and when the agony finally receded enough for him to think, he couldn\'t believe he had any skin left on his back at all. Surely his back had been melted away and these drips were destroying his internal organs. The smell of his burnt flesh was thick in the room, and a very twisted part of his brain connected the smell to pork. He wouldn\'t survive four, much less more. He concentrated as hard as he could on his mental protections, trying to hide behind those walls as he had when Voldemort had tortured him. If he had done it once, then he could do it again.



When the fourth one hit, Harry couldn\'t scream anymore, his throat was too raw. The fire that stormed through him raged so fierce and so fast that it ripped away his consciousness and he fell into blissful darkness.



"Wake up." Someone was slapping his face. Pain returned to him, his back burning as if he were lying on a frying pan. His eyes screwed shut, he pretended to be sleeping. Someone grabbed him by the hair and forced his head into icy cold water. He held his breath as long as he could and tried to slip back into oblivion but he didn\'t know how to retreat into his mind on command, and he couldn\'t hold his breath for long.



Soon, he was flailing about, trying to push his head back above the water. Snape wouldn\'t let him drown, but the others might on accident. The hand released him and he gasped for breath. He hated his body for recovering so quickly but most of all, he hated them for dragging him back to consciousness. Burying his anger, he kept everything but fear and pain from his face. He knew that above all else, he must play his part to perfection.



"Move along to the next amusement," ordered Voldemort from the dais.



"As you wish my Lord," said Mulciber. "Since he is weaker than expected, I will rearrange the tasks in order to allow him time to rest. I\'ve planned this next one just for him."



Harry just lay there and panted, too exhausted to care about Mulciber\'s plans.



A boot slammed into his side. "Sit up."



Fresh pain ripped through him as he pushed himself into a sitting position. How could Mulciber be so cruel? Wasn\'t he friends with Snape? Didn\'t he realise how much Snape prized his ownership of Harry? Snape wouldn\'t want his possession damaged.



His head spinning from the pain, not knowing what he could do except try to hold on, Harry focused all his strength on remaining upright.



"They said that Harry Potter would save the world," Mulciber announced to the group of Death Eaters, all of whom laughed. "Let\'s see how much of a hero he still is." He removed something from his robes and walked a few paces away from Harry. Setting it down on the floor, he stepped closer to Harry, pointing his wand at the floor near the object. "Asfixium!" he cast, waving his wand around in a circle.



When he was finished, he called, "Bring in the girl!"



Not everything will be what it appears. Oh no, not another person who had been Polyjuiced to look like one of his friends. He was going to be sick. Even though he tried to stop himself, he couldn\'t help but sneak a glance at the blonde girl who was dragged into the room. Struggling, her long, skinny legs kicking from the bottom of a light blue sundress, she had to be pulled across the floor.



The shade of gold upon her head tugged no memories forth and when she was pulled close enough for his fuzzy eyes to make out her general features, a stab of joy pierced through him once he realised he didn\'t know her. That joy was soon replaced by guilt as he knew she would be dying one way or another, and this was no time to feel relief or joy. She was gagged and her eyes darted around the room in horror, falling on Harry as she was pulled closer to him. Another Death Eater walked in beside her, floating a large, covered rectangular container behind him. He sent it to the centre of the room and stepped back to join the other Death Eaters gathered in a half circle.



"Look at me," commanded Mulciber and Harry tore his eyes away from the struggling girl. "Over there-" He pointed to where the object had been placed. "-is the key."



The key? Harry didn\'t like where this was heading.



"You will need the key to open the tank," continued Mulciber.



A splash behind him made him whip his head around just in time to see that the girl had been thrown into a tank of water. She was flailing about, beating her fists against the glass. Oh god, no. This couldn\'t be happening. This had to be some sort of trick. What was he supposed to do? He couldn\'t just let her drown, but he was supposed to be broken. If he tried to get the key, they\'d know he wasn\'t broken.



"Oi!" said Mulciber. "Why are you just sitting there? Time is ticking. She\'s going to drown unless you get that key. You want to save the filthy Muggle, don\'t you?"



Harry couldn\'t help it. Even though he knew he should never, ever let them do it, his eyes darted to Snape, seeking answers on how to behave. Snape gave a tight nod. That was all Harry needed to burst into action. He had to try to save her. He couldn\'t just let her die. Even though he suspected there was no way he\'d ever be able to reach that key, he moved to climb to his feet. Searing pain surged through his back and his feet gave out, tumbling him to the floor, momentarily blinding him. No. He would do this. Shoving aside the agony in his back, he forced his dead-weight limbs to crawl across the room towards the key.



A body\'s length away from the key, Harry brushed up against a huge field of magic. He pushed his hand into what felt like an invisible, thick sheet of dough. He needed to pass through it to reach the key. Without a second thought, he slammed his other hand down into it and then, holding his breath, pushed forward with his head. It was like diving head first into liquid rubber. He crawled forward but the magic seemed to only get thicker around him, pressing into him on all sides.



The Death Eaters were laughing, a few jeering at him to crawl faster.



"She\'s dying!" one of them yelled at Harry.



The farther he dove into the field of magic, the worse and worse the pressure became, as if he were in a tunnel that was shrinking the closer he got towards the key. The weight of the magic crushed his chest, and pressed painfully hard on his damaged back, nearly holding him in place. Even if there had been air to pull into his lungs, he couldn\'t inflate them enough to breathe. He was going to suffocate! No, Snape wouldn\'t let them. He would save him.



With Snape at the front of his mind, he ripped free of the constricting web and gulped down air as he crawled to the key. When he reached the key, he expected it to burn his skin or be covered with invisible needles, but he had no choice, so he grabbed it anyway. Nothing happened. It was a key. The key in hand, he glanced at the girl to see her pounding her fists against the glass in the tank. How long could she live without oxygen? Probably not much longer.



The Death Eaters were yelling but he ignored them, focusing only on the girl who was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. His body was wracked with pain, his back on fire, but he barely felt it. He had the key. He might be able to do this. He might be able to actually save her. Filling his lungs, he gulped down air and then dove back into the suffocating web, forcing his limbs to swim through the molasses-like wall of magic. It was easier crawling out than crawling in and he quickly managed to free himself.



Finally, he reached the tank. With shaking hands, he shoved the key into the lock. He turned it.



Nothing happened.



The Death Eaters roared with laughter. It had all been a trick.



"It\'s upside down, you idiot!" yelled one of the Death Eaters. Harry pulled the key out and reinserted it. This time, when he turned the handle, something inside the lock clicked. A handle popped out. Harry climbed up onto his knees, gripped it tightly, and then let his legs give way, using the force of gravity to pull the handle down. The door of the tank flew open and the girl poured out with the force of the rushing water. When she landed, she flopped around, clawing at her neck. Too exhausted to do anything but pant, Harry watched as she flailed, the room filling with her strange-sounding screams. What was wrong with her? Why wasn\'t she breathing correctly?



"Let\'s take away the glamour," said Mulciber with sick glee. He waved his wand over the girl. Webs appeared between her fingers and gills in her neck.



They had given her Gillyweed. For a moment, Harry could do nothing but stare at the girl as she thrashed. Then, realising she was drowning for lack of water, he propelled himself across the room.



"WATER!" he yelled to her. "YOU NEED WATER!" He scooped up what he could in his hands and poured it over her neck but it didn\'t seem to be enough and she didn\'t understand. She kept batting his hands away, her nails leaving gouges in her neck as she tried to rip away her new lungs. Sticky, wet sounds burst from her mouth with each breath she attempted to suck in.



"Water," he sobbed, trying to collect water from the floor, but it had spread too thin and he could do nothing more than wet his hands in it. He glanced over at the tank and saw a thin layer at the bottom. He grabbed her to pull her towards it, but she clawed at his arms and kicked him.



"You need water." He grabbed her again despite the welts she left on his skin. "You need to get in the water!" She refused to listen to him, shaking her head and pulling away from him as she screamed and kicked and slowly died.



He released her and struggled over to the tank. His body was in such agony, he was afraid that he would pass out again, but he forced himself to stay conscious. The girl let out a horrific wail behind him and he cupped the water tightly, but when he tried to cross the floor, his legs gave out and he fell, spilling the water all over the tiles. Fuck! Determinedly, he turned back to the tank and stuck in his head, gulping up a large mouthful of the brackish, foul-tasting water. His mouth and hands as full as possible, he crawled back to her. She lay still against the tiles, her eyes open wide.



No. No. No. She couldn\'t be dead. When he reached her, he poured the water into her gills, then spit the rest from his mouth. Still, she didn\'t move. He rubbed it in, trying to revive her. She didn\'t move. His hands fluttered to her chest, her neck, trying to find a heart beat. She had none. He didn\'t know what to do. He couldn\'t give her CPR if she had died from too much air.



He stared at her body. He had killed her. If he had left her in the tank, she would still be alive. The Death Eaters were laughing, but he could do nothing but sit there like a useless lump and watch as her once-blue eyes clouded over, her irises now nearly as dark as her pupils.



"Bad luck," Mulciber sneered. He cleared away the water with a wave of his wand. "Get rid of that," he ordered to his assistants, who strode over and picked up the girl, dumping her in the tank as if she were rubbish. They carted the tank out while Harry sat there. He had just killed a girl. She was dead and it was all his fault. He should\'ve understood what Snape meant by \'Not everything will be what it appears.\' He should\'ve known they would do something like this.



"And now, the next task. Bring me the cup."



He heard the words, but they made no sense. He could only think about the blonde girl he had just murdered.



"Chimera\'s tears!" crowed Mulciber. The throng of Death Eaters clapped eagerly.



"That wasn\'t cleared with me." Even in his fuzzy state, Snape\'s quiet voice pierced through the haze. The room went so still, for a moment, Harry thought a spell had been cast to cut off his hearing. None of the Death Eaters spoke or moved, all of them presumably just as shocked as Harry that Snape would step in during another man\'s turn for torture. Why was he interfering? He shouldn\'t try to help. Not this close to the end.



"Wh- Why-" stuttered Mulciber. "I don\'t see why it would be a problem. We\'ve used it before."



"On Muggles," said Snape. "Not on him." Harry wanted to melt into the floor. They were so near the end, why was Snape making himself so conspicuous now?



"What\'s this?" shouted Bellatrix. "Trying to protect your little pet?"



"My Lord-" Snape\'s plea was cut off soon after it began.



"I appreciate your concern, Severus," said Voldemort in a voice which said everything to the contrary, "however, I don\'t feel that it will be a problem. Proceed, Sethlans."



Mulciber marched across the floor, reached down, grabbed Harry by the hair, and dragged him to his knees. Harry did not try to resist as Mulciber forced open his mouth and poured down his throat a thick concoction that tasted like sour milk.



He coughed and sputtered and choked, but did not dare spit out the potion. He was released and he crumbled to the floor, closing his eyes and praying for this to be the last of the \'entertainment.\'



A drifting sensation fluttered through him, as though he had been port-keyed to a raft in the middle of the ocean. He opened his eyes to see the room floating, the blurry line of Death Eaters standing around the edge rolling against the white of the marble floor. Footsteps pounded like drums on his head as Mulciber approached, swaying back and forth as he walked, even though his legs were moving in a straight line.



Drugged. They\'d given him some sort of drug.



"I put eggs in that drink," said Mulciber and Harry saw and felt them. There had been eggs, big black eggs he had had trouble swallowing. Now they were in his stomach; he could see them boiling around under his skin.



"Now they are going to hatch. Can you feel them? The snakes."



He could! They were bursting open, black wiggling snakes emerging from their shells. He had to get them out. He tore at his stomach with his hands. He had to rip it open!



"Restrain him!"



Giant clouds of black with faces of skulls appeared and pulled his limbs apart, holding them in place. The world rippled around him, shadows gathering above his head.



"They\'re in your brain! They\'re eating your brain!"



He screamed. He had to get them out of his head! They were wriggling, wriggling, wriggling. He slammed his head back against the marble. Searing, white-hot pain strummed through his head, but he didn\'t care. He tried to bash his head again, but the marble had been turned soft and he sank into the softness. The floor swallowed him whole and he was stuck there, buried underneath the tiles. His heart and breath stopped and his limbs refused to move. The floor was a wonderful place to be. Underneath the tiles, the Death Eaters couldn\'t hurt him.



And then his scar burst open and pain surged through him. He curled up in a ball and screamed. When he opened his eyes, he stood before the opened Chamber of Secrets.



"Kill for me," he whispered in Parseltongue. "Destroy the Mudbloods."



The colours swirled together like a child\'s painting and when everything made sense again, he found himself standing in the throne room, all the Death Eaters standing in a circle around him, although this time, he could see them clearly even though he wasn\'t wearing his glasses. He had lost his glasses somewhere. He needed his glasses.



Voldemort stood on the dais, his hand outstretched to welcome Harry as black dripped from his hand and body to the pool of darkness beneath his feet.



Harry\'s body, seemingly of its own accord, strode towards Voldemort and he focused on his legs, trying to make them stop. He froze his right one and he tripped, falling. A big shadow swooped in to catch him and he fell into the darkness. Darkness was good. Night meant sleep. Sleep was wonderful. If he slept, they could not hurt him.



Thunder rolled around the room, vibrating deep into the pocket of blackness that held Harry tightly. He could feel something tugging on his arm, trying to pull him back towards the lights. He was safe here and he didn\'t want to return.



"Potter," Snape\'s voice whispered. "My Lord ... Potter."



Harry realised he was in Snape\'s arms and he blinked his eyes. "Snape."



"Drink the potion," Snape was saying. "It will heal you."



No. No potions. They needed to escape, they needed to fight Voldemort before he killed them both. "No. No."



"You must drink." Something pressed against his lips. Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head.



Magic surged through him and his arms shot straight to the side. Snape drove a knife through his gut. He gasped, the pain of the knife\'s entry sharp. The knife had gone all the way through his body, he could feel it sticking out the other side.



"You\'ve killed me," Harry said to the shimmering clouds of white that surrounded him. Snitches darted all over the throne room but he could not catch them. He had no broom. Where was his broom?



Something cold and wet flowed into his stomach. His body drifted away as he floated up and up. Snape wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him snugly back down to earth. There were people talking somewhere, but they didn\'t matter. No one else mattered.



As though he were waking from a dream, the blocks of ice in his mind melted and, upon realising what he had just said and done, he grabbed Snape. He had said \'Snape\'. He had looked at him in front of Voldemort! No. Oh no!



Snape\'s arms slipped from him and Harry grabbed for his robes. "Please, don\'t go. Don\'t go. You can\'t go-!"



"Shh," said Snape softly. His magic and arms wrapped around Harry once more, lifting him up. "Go to sleep."



He couldn\'t sleep. If he slept, he would wake to find Snape gone, but the painkiller had been laced, and he was far too exhausted to fight it. The darkness overcame him.







Well, I hope it was worth the wait. As always, please review!