The 25th of December

22 December

Harry struggles against Snape's manacles as the prison door slams behind them.

"Be still," Snape snaps as Harry thrashes against his chest.

"I can't...please...you have to..."

Harry wants Snape to understand.

He can't allow more families to be killed; two more have died tonight.

The children--miniature Harry Potters.

"...it isn't right..."

Snape shakes him; Harry's teeth rattle. "I will not," he growls.

"You have to." He tries to jerk away from Snape's crushing grip, but Snape won't allow that either. He spins them around until Harry is pressed against the wall farthest from the door.

They are hidden from any prying eyes.

Shadows conceal them.

"Do not be a fool," Snape hisses, close to Harry's face. "This is exactly what the Dark Lord wants. To break you. We have no choice but to endure this."

Harry glares up at Snape. "We?" he rasps. "It isn't your death he's mocking out there. It isn't your friends he's threatening to kill." Harry doesn't know where he finds the strength for the monologue, but each word burns its shape against his throat. "This...isn't your...choice." Harry nearly gags on the harsh words.

Snape snarls; the sound makes Harry shrink back. "You are wrong, Potter." His voice is cold and deadly; his grip is punishing. "Your life is mine now. Albus gave it to me, because he knew you would throw it away at the first threat. You are the one without a choice."

Harry stills at the cruel pronouncement. His raging muscles are flaccid in Snape's grip now. The potion was just another way for Dumbledore to control me, he realizes dully. He stares into Snape's eyes.

All he sees is betrayal.

Even here, he is nothing more than a pawn.

"Get away from me," Harry whispers, almost gasping. "You're just like him."

Snape's fingernails dig into Harry's arms as his face stiffens. In the next moment, Snape releases him abruptly. Without Snape's support, Harry slides down the craggy wall.

He lands in a crumpled heap on the floor; he is staring up at Snape, his eyes damp and surprised.

Snape turns away without another glance.

Harry watches him walk away.

There seems to be a kilometer between them now as Snape stands near the metal door, his back to Harry.

Neither of them moves as the day turns to dusk.

Harry is thirsty, but he does not ask for water.

He watches Snape watch the night.

He has to force his eyes to stay open as sleep tries to overwhelm him.

--

Harry's eyelids snap open.

He can no longer hear Snape's even breaths in the pitch-black room.

The silence is unbearable.

Harry's head shifts against the damp floor. He tenses as he waits for the punishment.

There is none.

It seems Voldemort has decided his new plan will be enough to break Harry.

He is right.

Snape was right.

But Harry is ready to ignore Snape's logic and offer himself to Voldemort.

Even if Snape does not agree.

Guilt laps at Harry's conscious.

"Sn-Snape?" he whispers hoarsely.

He knows Snape will reprimand him for his disrespect.

But there is no answering reproof.

Harry struggles as he rolls over; the floor smells of urine and mold. He gags as he pushes himself slowly to his knees.

His limbs tremble from the effort.

"Professor?" Harry has to force the query out; his throat burns.

There is no sound.

No rustle of robes in the darkness.

Harry is alone.

His eyes roam the blackness.

Not even a sliver of light protrudes from where he remembers the door should be.

Harry stretches his arms out slowly; the movement drains him almost to the point of collapse.

His fingers graze along the rough floor.

Snape is not beside him.

He brings his hands back to his sides; his fingers brush against soft fabric; they curl around it.

Snape's robes. He remembers the feel of the fabric against his cheek.

The robe feels like it has been plied with a Weight Enhancing Charm. Harry lifts it up anyway.

He bunches it under his chin, his fingers tightening.

Harry closes his eyes.

When he opens them, it is still dark.

And he is still alone.

Snape has left him.

Harry's joints creak as he shakes out the robes. Their faint rustling echoes in the darkness.

He wraps the fabric around his shoulders, pulling the robes tight with clutching fists.

Harry's hands shake as he stares into the endless night.