His hands were still bound behind his back, but that did not stop Harry from struggling as the Death Eaters tortured him with the Cruciatus. That seemed to be the Death Eaters’ favorite curse.

They also liked the cutting hex, although they healed the cuts when he started paling. Just to cut them back open, of course.

Draco was standing still a few feet away from Harry. He was also trying not to look at Harry. The black-haired boy caught the blond’s eyes on him a few times, though. He seemed freakily fascinated with the pain Harry was in.

Harry shivered at the thought. While Draco was watching him, his expression cold, Harry could not help but think that he would make a good Death Eater. The thought was swept away as pain overcame him again and he was back to whimpering on the floor.

Many minutes later, Harry could tell that Voldemort had something planned. The snakelike man kept talking in a low voice with his Death Eaters. He was not even watching as Harry was tortured.

Bellatrix came towards Harry. Maybe if I knock her over, she’ll drop her wand and maybe I can grab it. The act would be hard with his hands tied, but Harry was going to try. He lunged at her. She shrieked and stumbled back as he bumped her.

Then he had to straighten himself up from where he had landed. Harry cursed softly and glared at Bellatrix.

“Oh dear,” Voldemort said staring at Harry with a finger trying the arm of his chair. His attention had been caught. “I do believe you need some discipline, Harry. It’s obvious Dumbledore has not got his Gryffindor prince under control.”

Harry sneered sarcastically. “Or maybe, it’s because I hate you, dumbass!”

The Death Eaters around Harry gasped, stilled to a frozen position. Belletrix’s, though, shrieked with rage.

“How dare you!” she snarled. Her pale hand reached forward and grasped Harry’s hair in a fist.

Pulling his head back, Bellatrix laid her hand on his Adam’s apple, feeling for his pulse with cold fingers. “Do you any idea how fast I can kill you? Never speak to the Dark Lord in such a manner!” Her tone was soft and dangerous.

The position his head made it hard for Harry to roll his eyes, but he managed to do so. “What manner would you prefer?” he asked mockingly.

Her eyes were dark, they widened in indignation and anger. Harry lost his balance as she threw him away.

“My Lord, I beseech you! Let me put the boy in his place. I will break him for you!” Bellatrix kneeled and looked at Voldemort’s feet.

Sitting back up, Harry saw Voldemort make a dismissive motion. “I think not, Bella. You already touched Potter without my permission; you had better be glad I’m a merciful master--”

Harry snorted, then could not help himself and laughed out loud. It was a humorless laugh. Voldemort merciful? Harry shivered for no reason--that had been happening every five to ten minutes.

“You torture your own followers, Tom, for the smallest mistakes and other times for no reason at all! How the hell does that make you merciful?” Harry was exasperated. Were the Death Eaters completely blind?

Voldemort leaned forward, a snarl on his face. “Silence him!” he snapped.

Bellatrix did so immediately. Harry found that he could not hear himself and stopped talking.

“Yesss, Potter doesss need to learn his place,” Voldemort said, his voice changing slightly as the anger showed in his narrowed eyes.

“Wormtail,” Voldemort said and waved his hand sharply. The traitor came forward. Skinnier than Harry remembered, and he looked more crazed as well.

“Yes, my lord?” he murmured softly, looking anywhere besides Harry.

“Show Potter where he’ll be staying,” Voldemort said with a sly chuckle. Wormtail moved toward Harry with reluctance. Harry glared at the traitor as he came closer.

For one moment, their eyes met. Wormtail quickly looked away again, but not fast enough so that Harry could not see the fighting emotions in his eyes.

Wormtail’s silver hand grasped Harry by his coller. With inhuman strength he quickly pulled Harry a few feet away from Voldemort’s chair.

Voldemort waved his wand, a brass cage appeared. It looked like a huge bird cage, and its door was open.

Harry understood what it was for. “You owe me, Wormtail,” Harry whispered in the man’s ear.

Wormtail froze, and then laughed. “I owe you nothing Potter,” he muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear. Then, he was lifted and thrown in the cage.

His head made a dull thud as it crashed into the back of the cage. Harry had to pull his legs up, and stand up before Wormtail slammed the door on his feet.

The ringing in his head made him feel dizzy. He wished he could sit down; the cage was too small, though.

“There, Harry, no more lunging at my followers. It’s a shame that I’m going to kill you; you would make a good pet.” It was more of a leer than a smile that Voldemort gave Harry.

Harry gave him a disgusted look in return. Voldemort laughed.

“Wormtail, give our pet some food,” Voldemort said in an amused tone. He was sitting in his chair looking as content as any, crazy, killing, snake man could.

“Yes my Lord,” Wormtail murmered, the perfect follower.

Harry felt hatred run in his veins. That was why, when Wormtail stuck his hand in between the bars of the cage, Harry lurched forward, and bit his hand. He really did not care about what they would do to him next. They seemed to have appointed a time to kill him. Until then, they would keep him alive.

So his teeth bit down on those fingers hard. Wormtail had been teasing him before--he was going to drop Harry as few pieces of bread. Instead, Wormtail was now screaming and jerking his hand. Harry held on. The taste of blood in his mouth made him want to spit the hand out, but he was not going to make this easy on his captures.

Wormtail was banging on the cage with his silver fist. It was becoming dented under the pressure. Voldemort was shouting orders. The cage came loose from where it was hinging a little off the floor.

Harry gasped in pain as Wormtail’s hand was wrenched from his mouth when the cage fell to the floor and rolled over.

A boot covered foot kicked visciously at the cage. Repetedly Wormtail attacked Harry, cursing and screaming in pain.

Harry’s world was tilting, dizzy, and full of pain. The kicks and punches from Wormtail had him hitting the bars of his cage. His ribs, head, and all the other parts of his body were hurting.

Harry tried to protect his head but he kept throwing out his arms to protect himself. Finally, a jarring strike made him black out as his unprotected head hit the bars.

………………………………

Pain. Aching, jolting, worth-groaning-over-pain. It consumed him. Made it impossible to think clearly. Harry did not think he could open his eyes fully if he wanted to.

His throat was dry. He wished he could fall back into the welcoming unconsciousness.

Then he would be able to avoid the Death Eaters talking.

Blearily, Harry opened his eyes and straightened himself out. He was slumped uncomfortably in his cage. As his eyes took in the masses of white masks, he realized that he was on display.

The cage was suspended in the middle of the room for all to see. He felt like a parrot. At least they weren’t trying to feed him crackers.

 Thinking of food…Harry remembered biting Wormtails fingers. He could still taste blood in his mouth. His teeth were probably stained with it.

Absent mindedly he ran his tounge over his teeth and grimaced. A mental image of a beast with skin between his teeth just came to his mind.

Lightly shuddering, Harry looked around the room. The tan stone walls, Voldemort’s throne, two tables on each side of the room. Death Eaters occupied each table. Harry was happy to see Voldemlort did not have enough Death Eaters to fill both tables. In between the tables was a large walkway, and Harry hung right in the middle.

Some Death Eaters had noticed his return to conscious…and they celebrated by throwing food at him. Laughter and crude comments were tuned out as Harry picked the chicken skin of his hair and looked for Draco.

He found him after a moment. He was sitting near Voldemort and looking just liked he belonged there. In fact, Harry was reminded of Lucius. Draco looked calm and composed.

He was eyeing the Death Eaters mocking and tormenting Harry with their dinner. His face showed disinterest.

Harry’s teeth clenched. To think that the youngest Malfoy might not have been so bad, Harry shook his head, sighed, and broded.

Where is Snape? Shouldn’t I be out of here by now? What’s taking him so damn long? Harry wondered.

After that thought, though, he frowned. I can’t blame Snape for this. If I had fought harder with Uncle Vernon, maybe I would not be here. Harry sighed a little. Ignoring the Death Eaters made them bored and they went back to their meal.

Snape will get me out if he can. There might be a protection spell on the building and he might not be able to tell anyone my location. Harry thought over that while nipping on the apple that had landed in his cage.

It would probably just infuriate the Death Eaters more, with that thought he bit into it noisily. But--Harry stopped chewing on his apple. What if Snape decided helping him was out of the question? He would have to give up his spying job--that would be a huge loss for the Order. And Snape hates me me anyway, why would he risk himself?

Harry stood there contemplating that thought.

Dumbledore would tell him he had to. Snape may hate me, but I don’t think he want’s me dead, Harry thought. But, maybe that was just wishful thinking.

They may not rescue me at all, Harry thought, his stomach clenched.

He had had nightmares of Death Eaters killing people. The Order did not always rescue them, when or if they even tried. Would they figure he was not important enough not to save?

Doubts and uncertainty made Harry’s stomach roll. He wished he had not eaten that apple. Would knowing members of the Order make them want to save me more? Hary could not see Sirus not trying to save him.

The green-eyed boy was shaken out of his thoughts as a Death Eater left the hall, pushing his cage as he went. The brass cell swung, causing Harry to hit the side of his face on the bars.

He cursed loudly, holding a hand to his aching cheek. The Death Eaters were pleased with his reaction.

Harry tried to reign in his emotions. It was hard, though. He was surrounded by people who would give up their arms to hurt him, no escape was in sight, and he was hurt. Not terribly so, but he had small shivers that were almost spasms. An aftereffect of the Cruciatus curse.

……………………………..

Snape ate dinner in the Dark Lord’s presence. Something he would not usually do, but because of Potter, he felt it had to be done.

Potter was suspended about the floor in a cage. The Dark Lord seemed to take pleasure in seeing the boy so helpless. When Potter finally burst out cursing at the ones throwing food at him, the Dark Lord smiled.

Afterwards, Snape left. Lucius had asked him where he was going. He had replied that he was going to brew potions. That answer was not good enough for the elder Malfoy, who pressed further.

Snape told him he was going to his mansion. Then Snape left, to go to Grimauld Place. He had to worry about Lucius’s actions. It was unlike the man to be acting so…finicky. He was pressing for details without being subtle. Snape knew Lucius had been talking with the Dark Lord before dinner. Whatever had been said was weighing heavily on Lucius.

Snape got back to his house much later that night. He had not slept in almost two days. And it seemed fate was going to make him wait even longer.

The Floo started up just minutes after he had arrived. “Severus, may I come through?”

Snape cursed in his head. Lucius. What did the man want now?

“Yes, Lucius,” he replied tightly. His nerves were straining, he fought to keep him emotions low.

With a graceful stride, Lucius came through the Floo. “Why, Severus, you look like you’ve just arrived,” he said. Snape searched the man’s face; he was ready to draw his wand if that action was necessary. They may have been friends, but in war drastic measures were necessary. And friend or not, Lucius was not one he could risk underestimating.

“I saw no need to change my clothes, Lucius. I was, however, about to go to bed. Was there something in particular you wanted?” Snape asked. Lucius obviously read between Snape’s words as he smirked.

“One would think you want me to leave Severus,” he said with amusement and innocence.

Clenching his teeth, Snape tried not to snap at the man. He wanted a headache potion and sleep, was that too much to ask for? Apparently so.

“I am tired, Lucius. Can whatever you wanted to discuss wait until tomorrow?” Snape did not hide bother to hide his weary look toward his bedroom.

Lucius sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. That alone showed that something was wrong. Lucius was always the perfect portrait of poise.

“I’m afraid not, Severus. It matters a great deal to me, and I think that you can help me,” Lucius said.

Snape was instantly alert. He did not speak; Lucius understood and sat down in a chair uninvited.

“I am worried for Draco’s life.”

Snape was already still, but now he froze. What had the Dark Lord told Lucius to make him this way?

“The Dark Lord--he plans on killing Potter, and he knows that Draco will die along with him. He doesn’t care about my son’s life. Nor the life of any of his other followers. I have realized that, and I think I knew it all along. He told me when he is going to kill Potter; he’s testing my loyalty to him, Severus,” Lucius paused. He turned to look Severus in the eyes from where he had been staring into the distance.

“I have discovered that my loyalty to my family is stronger than that to the Dark Lord.”

Snape tried not to show his surprise at this revelation. He had wondered how far Lucius would go to protect his family, but he never expected Lucius to tell him.

“What is it you want from me?” Snape asked, speaking each word carefully.

Lucius stared at him without faltering. “I want you to help me save my son.”