Harry woke up only to be dragged from his cell and thrown roughly before a padded chair that held his Worse Enemy.  He didn't know how long he had been unconscious but for some reason, he missed the sensation.  It was entirely better than being here in this nightmare. 

"So good of you to join us Mr. Potter," Voldemort said. 

 Harry hadn't noticed the other Death Eaters in the room until he heard their laughter at their lord's words because they were standing mostly in shadow.  Voldemort was peering at Harry as if he expected him to speak.  Harry thought about saying nothing and in retrospect, he probably should have continued to do so.  But there was something about really believing one's situation to be hopeless.  It can do wonders to a person's self-preservation instincts.  So he replied, "Thank you so much for the invitation Tom."

Harry might have gotten scared if Voldemort had flown into a rage.  Instead, he became terrified when Voldemort stood and smiled at him as if he were a particularly juicy meal.  Then, without a word, Harry was writhing on the ground under the Cruciatus curse.  When the curse was lifted seconds later, Harry decided to keep his mouth shut.  He'd probably still die, but no sense asking for it. 

He foolishly hoped that Voldemort would be done with him.  He couldn't have been more wrong.  Before he even regained his breath, his head exploded in pain.  It felt like a brand was covering his scar and had been there long enough to touch brain.  He could feel Voldemort in his mind, searching. 

He saw Sirius falling through the veil, but any guilt associated with that feeling was pushed out by the pain in his head.  He saw his friend's faces before him.  And even his love for them didn't seem able to push itself past his pain, but somehow, he held onto their faces. 

They were alive.  They cared about him.  They'd want him to fight.  He wanted to see them again.  And slowly his pain faded and he was able to focus on one thought and one thought only.  He was loved and he loved.  And then the pain ended and Voldemort was flung from his mind. 

Screaming in rage, Voldemort rounded on him and flung another Crucio at him, followed by a curse that threw him across the room. 

Voldemort seemed to regain his composure then.  In a sneering voice, he said, "It is no matter, Potter.  Severus will be here soon to make Veritaserum and then all your secrets will be revealed.  And then, you will die." 

Harry couldn't move.  He had fallen on his ankle and heard something snap.  He was sure that his ankle was broken.  He hadn't really considered escape a possibility before, but now that his ankle was broken and he realized that escape was impossible, he realized that he still hadn't really given up. 

He was brought out of those thoughts by Voldemort calling for Wormtail.  The rat-like man moved forward, evidently still in pain from his earlier punishment and very much preferring to keep to the shadows.  Voldemort grabbed his arm and touched his wand to his Dark Mark, which became very black.  Then turning back to Harry, the Dark Lord seemed to consider him for a moment.  "A pity that your friends are so trusting Potter.  You will die, and my Snake will still be there, trusted.  He has been a faithful servant and I will reward him tonight with your death.  And when he returns to Hogwarts, he will kill your little friends." 

More laughter met his remark and Harry lost his temper.  He could hardly stand, but that didn't stop him from struggling to, or from hopping toward Voldemort.  He was relatively sure that this was some sort of suicide attempt on his part, but he just didn't care.  He'd rather die than have to face that traitor, Snape.  And he wanted to kill Voldemort so that he couldn't hurt his friends.  Unfortunately, he only made it partway across the floor before a Death Eater stepped out of the shadowy circle and threw him down. 

Voldemort was laughing.  "Oh Potter, I never tire of hurting you.  It will almost be sad to kill you and give up my new toy, but I will manage somehow.  Crucio." 

And it was at that exact moment that Snape Apparated to his "master's" side. 

Harry was released from the curse when he heard someone Apparating.  Catching his breath, again, he looked up to see Professor Snape smiling down at him in a very nasty way and bowing to his lord. 

"Traitor!" he screamed. 

This made Snape laugh. 

"Severus, I have such a treat for you tonight.  I know you have longed for an opportunity to really teach Mr. Potter here some lessons.  As a reward for your infinite patience, I will let you do just that, but see that you do not kill him just yet."

Snape bowed low again and smiled even more broadly.  "My lord, you are too kind to me," he said sincerely.  "Thank you."  Then he turned and his smile became even more diabolical as he pulled out his wand.  "Mr. Potter, you should know by now that I will not tolerate disrespect from my students.  You will call me ‘Traitor, sir'." 

This got a loud laugh from all the Death Eaters and Voldemort.  Before Harry could even respond, Snape lazily flicked his wand and without a word from Snape, Harry's limbs were thrashing.  Oddly, the only pain he felt was from his previous injuries being jostled.  But at the moment, that seemed like quite enough.  Snape lifted the curse, whatever it had been, and Harry was breathing hard from his strange exertion.  Snape lifted his wand again and Harry flew at the high ceiling with great velocity, but just as he hit it, he felt a cushioning charm, although no one had spoken, then he fell back to the ground quickly, only to be cushioned again.  It had still hurt, but not nearly as bad as it could have.  Perhaps old Snape was loosing his touch, Harry thought with some satisfaction.  Before he could even move from the ground, Snape flicked his wand again and Harry screamed.  He couldn't stop screaming, although nothing hurt. 

What the hell had that spell been?, he thought as it was lifted and he swallowed past a scratchy throat. 

Snape spoke again.  "Mr. Potter, what would your arrogant father think if he could hear you screaming now?  Pathetic Potter.  Have I taught you nothing?"  He flicked his wand again, and again, Harry was thrashing on the floor.  Again, the only pain he felt was from his previous injuries being disturbed.  While he was still thrashing, Snape flicked his wand again, but no one else saw it.  Harry went unconscious.

Snape had Apparated not knowing what to expect.  What he saw was terror inspiring.  Harry was lying on the ground, just set free from a Cruciatus.  How many had the boy already gotten?  He could see that Potter had bruises and scratches.  He could also see that his ankle was swollen around his trainer, most likely broken, but nothing else seemed to be wrong, as if that wasn't enough. 

Severus had been in this position before.  At first, he had used the real curses, because there was nothing else he could do.  But that hadn't stopped him from searching for some spell that would seem like the Cruciatus to observers but not to the afflicted.  He had found a few spells in his search.  One that caused a person's muscles to spasm and make them thrash about as if they were under the Cruciatus.  Another that forced a person to scream, but did no more damage than a slightly sore throat.  He had learned how to be more creative over the years to assure the Dark Lord of his dark nature. 

So in that vein, he had sent Harry Potter flying to ceiling.  As always, every eye was on Potter, watching his torture with glee, so they didn't see the small cushioning charm he silently cast, both before he hit the ceiling and before he hit the floor.  Taunting the boy made for an even better show.  But he knew that Potter would yell back if he didn't do something quickly afterwards, and that would not be good for the boy, so he cast another spell to make him thrash.  Then while all eyes were on Potter, who appeared to be in more pain than he likely was, he quietly and subtly cast a charm to put the boy to sleep. 

Sweeping forward, he knelt next to the boy.  After checking him over and seeing that his initial diagnostic was correct, except for the addition of a broken rib, he turned back to the Dark Lord, disappointment in his eyes.  "My lord, I did not realize that the brat had been so severely hurt before.  He will need to be healed before we may begin again."

Snapping his fingers, Voldemort gestured for two Death Eaters to take the boy back to the dungeons.  "Severus, give them the potions that they will need for Potter." 

After Severus gave the men the bottles, they left with Potter.  Severus had been careful to give them the strongest healing potions he had.  They would keep Potter unconscious for the next hour as well, but escape would be impossible with Potter so hurt, so he'd just have to wait a little while.  That worked out for the best anyway, because Voldemort was asking him to prepare Veritaserum for use on the boy. 

"And don't worry, my Snake, you will have more fun with Potter before we are through with him.  I will even let you watch at my side as I kill him," the Dark Lord said with a smile. 

He thought he was rewarding Severus, and the sincerely grateful smile on Severus' face showed how much of a reward that was.  But inside, Snape was fuming.  And he was also just a little bit scared.   No matter how he looked at it, he knew that if Potter disappeared from the Dark Lord's clutches, he would be caught out.  Only the most loyal were here and none of them had any ties to Potter or the ‘enemy.'  The Dark Lord did trust him as much as he trusted any of them, except perhaps Bellatrix, but his distrust could sway from hour to hour.  And it would only take an hour for his life to end if the Dark Lord suspected him.  There was no doubt that he would.  The wards would give him away anyways.  He toyed with the idea of breaking Potter out and making it look like the boy had done it all himself, but he was a practical man.  And he knew that there was no way Potter would make it out without him.  The boy couldn't even Apparate yet, and even if he could use a portkey, he'd still have to make it through a small section of forest.  Injured as Potter was, there was just no way he'd make it without Severus' help.  There was no time to wait for Potter to heal either.  So it was up to him to get them both out alive.

He had a moment of grief over his lost position.  Not that he enjoyed it, but he had done great things as a spy.  Still, he had never relied solely on his meetings with the Dark Lord for information.  He would have been a sorry spy indeed, if he had.  That was a surefire way to get caught.  He was always very careful that he not pass on information that wasn't told to at least a few others in the Dark Lord's confidence, and that had saved him from being tricked more than once.  And it was not only Death Eaters that had information.  After all, the Dark Lord and his followers had to deal with others occasionally.  There was always information to be gained from the spending habits of the Death Eaters from shop owners.  And with his own knowledge of the organization, he himself would be able to spy without them knowing.  He was quite adept at listening at doors and walking in shadows after all.  And since he knew almost all of the Death Eaters, the occasional bout of Legilimency would not be a bad idea.   The more Snape thought of it, the less upset he was at having to give up his role in the Dark Lord's camp.  He might still be able to be just as successful without his mask if he was a little daring and willing to work longer and harder. 

Snape left the room to ‘brew his potion', but stood outside the door for a moment longer to hear the marching orders.  Only seven Death Eaters were staying in the complex.  And one of them would be leaving soon anyway.  That left one to stand guard over Potter.  Voldemort was going to be in his personal chambers and Wormtail, who Snape didn't even count as a Death Eater was to be with Voldemort to serve him hand and foot.  The timing and situation couldn't be more perfect for his plans.  He still needed to kill some more time though, and he knew just what to do with that time. 

The mansion he was now in was more remote than others that he had been to, which meant that it was familiar and more permanent because it was much more secure.  The only reason they didn't often meet here was that it was so out of the way and Voldemort preferred to be closer to the rest of the wizarding world when actively plotting.  Snape practically had his own domain here, in the western wing.  He was the only Potion's Master after all.  Both the lab and potions stores were here.  Walking into his lab, he cast a silencing charm.  The five remaining Death Eaters were in the large common room on the first floor.  They were supposed to be on guard duty, but the strength of the warning wards meant that they merely needed to be here for quick response and not on patrol duty.  Severus smirked to himself. It was arrogance on the Dark Lord's part and he would utilize that.  They were most likely arguing or playing games in that room and only a border alarm would alert them. 

Walking into the potions storeroom, he pulled down his stock of poisons.  He was very selective, but in no time at all he had four bottles of a very nice poison that he had tweaked more than once over the years.  The original had first been made in Germany some 200 years ago and as a joke, he had taken to calling his version of it ‘gift,' which in German meant poison.

He slipped out of the rooms quietly.  He had a little time before he could go wake Potter so he may as well make good use of it.  He would leave the Death Eaters a ‘gift.'  He slipped down to the food stores undetected.  Pulling out a syringe, he injected all the bottles of wine with the poison.  Then he moved to the preserved meats and did the same.  When he was satisfied, he silently left the kitchens and went back to his lab with a smirk in place.  Murder was not easy, but Severus Snape always rose to the challenges of war.  And he knew more than any other just what losing this war could mean to all mankind.  If he had to be ruthless, so be it.  Certainly there were no others willing to step up to that challenge on his side of the war. 

When he made it back to his potions lab, he began pouring potions down the drain, careful not to mix any volatile ingredients.  The Dark Lord would be able to replenish most of the easier potions with relative ease, but it was still an advantage.  There would be no healing potions available for a little while though, and that might curtail activity.  Some of the more complicated potions, which were Voldemort's favorites, were Snape's own creations and he had been careful to never leave written instructions for any of them here.  He allowed himself a frown as he destroyed the potions ingredients.  As a Potions Master, he could hardly bear to destroy some of the more expensive ingredients, but he could only fit so much into his robes.  Some ingredients just weren't the same after being shrunk. 

Finally satisfied that the potions lab was destroyed, he walked out and quietly made his way to the library to set his next plan into motion.  As he walked, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips.  His plan was not foolproof, not at all, but it would be quite a surprise, and that might just do it for he and Potter.  And while the plan wasn't perfect, it was positively inspired.  Poison some Death Eaters, destroy the potions lab, burn all the Dark Lord's books and rescue Harry Potter.  Yes, despite the gravity of the situation, Severus Snape was finding it hard not to laugh.  What a surprise all this would be to the Dark Lord.  His displeasure at being unable to rescue Potter without giving up his position was almost eclipsed by the idea of finally sticking it to the Dark Lord and all his servants.

The books here were not all of the Dark Lord's books, but they represented a great percentage of them.  They were excellent references and the Dark Lord had gotten some of his more horrible ideas from them in the past.  This was the hardest part for Snape.  Some of these books were the only copies in existence, but these books were some of the worse as well.  With a small sigh, Severus began the most difficult part of his plan.  He would need a distraction eventually, but it wouldn't do to tip them off before he had gotten Potter out of the house.  There were wards set up to alert them to any entrances onto the grounds and then another set to alert them if someone came into the house proper.  He would have to be very careful to ensure that Potter and he were exiting the house at exactly the time that the fire was noticed.  It would only buy him a little time, if any, but it would split the forces and that was the best that he was going to get.  Five Death Eaters, Wormtail and Voldemort.  Those were his worse odds, but he hoped that he could even them a little bit with this distraction. 

So he poured a slow burning potion on the floor running from the door to the books.  Then on the books, he poured a very flammable potion.  He hoped that by the time the fire made its way across the slow burning potion to the books, he would have already gotten Potter.  That would give him time to reach the doors before the alarm went up about the library.  And the potions would ensure that the books couldn't be saved.  If they tried to use water, it wouldn't help at all.  When he was satisfied with that, he walked to the door, set a fire on the potion on the floor and ran quietly to the dungeons, taking care to make sure he was alone as he crept around corners.

Harry woke up feeling better than he thought he would.  His ankle swelling had gone down, but it still seemed broken.  His rib still made him wince, but not as badly.  His cuts and bruises were the best improvement.  He was no longer bleeding and his bruises were quite a bit smaller.  He still felt very tired but that was to be expected.  He noticed that he didn't have any tremors that the Cruciatus normally gave him either. 

Sitting up a little more, he tried to remember exactly what had happened.  And he did remember.  Snape had come. 

He was instantly angry.  The greasy git seemed to be enjoying himself.  That made Harry stop though.  He had seemed to be enjoying it, but Snape's curses hadn't even really felt like curses.  And he was certain that had been a cushioning charm on him when he was thrown against the ceiling and floor.  And then he had passed out, but he didn't remember having felt the need to.  All he could remember was seeing Snape flick his wand and then he had woken up here feeling much better. 

Was Snape a traitor?  Of course he was, right?  Why else would he have looked so pleased?  But he was a spy, and he must be a good actor to still be alive.  Surely Snape would have really hurt him if he had wanted to.  He'd been given the opportunity.  But even if Snape wasn't a traitor, what could he possibly do? 

No, Harry was alone.  He knew that.  He was slipping into depression, sitting on the cold stone floor.  His chances of survival at this point were not looking good.

Then he heard a door open and a man speaking.  It was Snape.  Moving carefully to the cell door, he looked out of the bars.  Snape was speaking to another Death Eater.

"The Dark Lord wants Potter.  Open his cell."

The other man grumbled a bit, but turned to obey anyway.  As he was fishing out his keys, Snape pulled out his wand behind the man's back and stupefied him.  The guard fell to the floor and without missing a beat, Snape swept forward and unlocked Harry's cell door with a flick of his wand. 

Harry's eyes grew wide.  What was Snape planning?  And as if he had asked the question, Snape raised his eyes to Harry's. 

"Mr. Potter, it is time for us to be leaving I think." 

Harry could only watch in bewilderment as Snape stepped in and pulled out several vials of potions.  Holding them out, he said, "Drink these." 

Harry took them and eyed them with a little suspicion.  He had already been threatened with one of Snape's potions and didn't know if he wanted to test his luck.  Still, if appearances could be trusted, Snape was breaking him out, so he uncorked the first one.  When he brought it up to his lips and hesitated for the smallest second, Snape spoke again. 

"They will not fully heal you by any means, but they will shut off most of the pain in your partially healed bones and allow you to move faster.  One is also a stimulant, which I assume is necessary.  Drink quickly Potter, we do not have all day." 

Harry couldn't think of a reason not to, so he drank all of them quickly.  He could hardly believe Snape was helping him, but he'd think about that later.  When he finished the last potion, Snape spoke up again before he had a chance to ask questions. 

"Do not make a sound as we leave.  Follow my every instruction without question.  If I die or am unable to continue, keep running through the forest that surrounds this property without looking back.  Do not stop running until you make it to somewhere you can find a way to send a message.  If you can, take my wand with you.  If not, just keep going.  Understood?" 

All Harry could think to say was "Yes, sir."  That seemed to please the professor.  Pulling Harry along behind him, they crept to the door out of the dungeons.  Just before Snape walked out, he turned back to Harry. 

"Potter, I know you're hurt and you don't have a wand, but if you trust me this day, we may yet survive this.  Now, keep up or we may both meet an end." 

Harry nodded.  And then they left the relative safety of the dungeons.