The 25th of December

A/N: The site was having problems when I tried to upload last night. Please read the previous chapter first; it was uploaded at the same time as this one. Thanks.

23 December

Darkness eventually turns to dawn.

Harry's lips are heavy with thirst.

His eyes are trained on the door; pink light filters into the dank room.

No one comes for him.

Harry shifts against his wall; his head turns at the faint scraping sound beside him.

Ice dusts the bottom edges of Snape's robes. Listless fingers trail along the frozen fabric.

Harry brings it slowly upward. He presses the robes to his parted lips.

The icy fabric thaws on his tongue.

He watches as the daylight fades to gray.

He releases the wrung-out corner of the fabric; it splats onto the stones.

Harry pulls Snape's robes closer to his chest.

Gray to black once more.

Phantom shapes keep him company.

When he is beginning to remind himself that they are not real, distant footsteps crunch in the snow outside.

The distinctive light from a wand tip bobs toward Harry.

Harry uncurls his frozen fingers; Snape's robes flutter to the floor.

The door grates open.

It isn't Snape.

A Death Eater, the one who was cutting designs into the dead man's chest, leers down at Harry.

"I think, perhaps, he will scream now," he drawls. Harry stares at him, knowing the words should trouble him. But they do not.

"We have no time for your little hobbies, Yaxley."

Yaxley sighs, but moves out of the way. Malfoy steps past him; his nose wrinkles with disgust as soon as he steps into the room. Without pausing, he crosses the small cell in three steps and grabs Harry's arm.

Malfoy yanks him upward.

"The Dark Lord has another demonstration for you," he says in his haughty tones.

Harry can barely stand.

He wants to ask where Snape is, but he stops the words before they can form on his tongue. Even if he himself is destined to die, Snape is not.

Yaxley grips Harry's arm. Harry doesn't even wince as the man's fingers bite into his flesh.

Harry is dragged from the cell.

Voldemort is waiting for him; a mausoleum is his backdrop.

"Harry," he says softly, with a disappointed shake of his head. "Why do you test me?"

Harry dangles between the Death Eaters' hands.

There is only one reason, he longs to say. To survive long enough to kill you.

Harry gazes at Voldemort, mute.

"Still nothing to say?"

Voldemort sighs.

"How many more will have to die, Harry?" he asks.

Harry stares at Voldemort, unable to comprehend the exact meaning of the words. But Voldemort doesn't wait for him to respond.

"Dumbledore couldn't hide all of them, I'm afraid..."

"No..." Harry whispers; his entire body spasms as Snape enters the circle.

Remus is his prisoner.

Voldemort laughs softly.

"I see I have finally reached you," he says quietly; his eyes are full of blood.

Harry turns his attention from Voldemort.

But Remus can't see him through his blindfold. And Snape's attention is on Remus.

"Remus..." Harry croaks as he struggles against the vices around his biceps.

"Harry," Remus cries out; his voice is high and frantic. "Don't do anything foolish-"

Snape clouts the side of Remus' head. "Be silent," he hisses.

Harry stops struggling.

He stares at Snape.

But Snape will not meet his eye.