The 25th of December

A/N: We had a storm and my internet was down yesterday. I uploaded two installments at once today. Please read 17 December first. Thanks.

18 December

The searing pain in his head tells Harry how angry Voldemort is.

It is dark again.

"Say nothing," Snape's voice warns. "No matter what they say to you."

Harry doesn't understand, but he is silent even as he feels his back leaving the solid surface beneath him. His neck droops as he is slowly spun around. He can see the floor now. It is splotched with rings of ice.

Harry knows he is moving but there is nothing but cold air surrounding him.

He passes through the doorway of his prison. The door is made of solid metal, except the top. Harry knows why he has been so cold.

The night seems bright outside. But there is no moon.

A bonfire lights the cemetery. Death Eaters circle the inferno.

"Put him down, Severus."

Harry can't help the impulse to look up. Voldemort's face flashes in his sight for an instant as Harry drops to the ground. He doesn't try to move, even as pain lashes at his body. He cries out, but he utters no sound.

Voldemort crouches down beside him; he runs a long fingernail along the side of Harry's face. He tilts his head to the side as he studies Harry. "Why won't you die, Harry Potter?"

There is a flash of light.

Harry stares at the long blade in Voldemort's hand. He can see one of his own green eyes reflected in the smooth surface.

"Perhaps the best way is to do it ourselves," Voldemort muses. Harry watches him flick his wrist. Movement beside Harry catches his eye; Snape is kneeling beside his head. "The honor is yours, Severus."

Snape's fingers quiver on the hilt of Voldemort's knife. Voldemort smiles. Snape bows his head low. "Thank you, My Lord."

Harry can feel his lips trembling, even though he knows he is ready to die.

Snape lifts his head. Harry gazes up at him.

The point of the knife is pressed into Harry's chest.

Harry keeps his eyes open, and Snape finally looks away.

Pressure gives way to pain as the knife pierces him.

Harry waits. The pain does not change.

The ground is so cold.

A snarl shrieks through the stillness. The pain ends abruptly as Snape flies backward. He lands in a heap near the fire.

The pain quickly returns, to a new spot in Harry's chest. Voldemort's face looms over him. His eyes are glowing. The ache is steady.

This time, Voldemort's cry makes the participants in the circle shift restlessly.

"Imperio," Voldemort hisses. His ruby eyes are close to Harry's now.

Harry's hand wants to move. It twitches even as he tries to keep it still. Voldemort smiles.

"It will only be more painful if you try to fight it, Harry."

It is more painful.

Voldemort is insistent.

Harry pierces his own flesh with Voldemort's blade. He can feel himself exerting pressure against the hilt. His breaths become ragged as his hand tries to force the blade further into his flesh.

The blood is warm against his chest.

Voldemort rages, but the knife will not go any further no matter how hard Harry pushes.

The knife is yanked from Harry's chest. It whizzes past his head.

The sound of the blade being buried deep in human flesh squelches in Harry's ears.

Death's distinctive gurgle soon follows.

Voldemort's fingers weave through Harry's hair.

Harry gasps as his head is yanked brutally to the side. The motion should have snapped his neck.

But he is not dead. He can see Snape watching him as he leans beside a nearby headstone.

Voldemort snarls again as he releases Harry.

Harry stares up at the swimming stars.

"Take him from my sight," Voldemort hisses, and Harry wonders if he is talking to Snape.

Harry is lifted by invisible strings once more. His limbs feel like lead.

He crosses the threshold into his prison once more.

The door scrapes closed.

"Finite," Snape's voice murmurs.

Harry tries to prepare himself for the floor's impact.

He crumbles into shaking arms. He is staring up at Snape.

Snape's breathing is loud in Harry's ears.

Harry can no longer hear his own ragged breaths.

Snape's lips tremble, but he does not speak as he shuffles toward the opposite wall.

His arms tighten around Harry before he collapses to the floor.

They shiver together as the wind howls through the metal bars on the door.