"My wand, Potter."

Harry froze on the spot. If Snape got his wand back, would he disregard everything and just kill him? There seemed little doubt that he was capable of it right now. The man had never liked him. There had been a few times where Harry was sure that Snape would just jump to his throat and strangle him, however, this was no comparison.

The hatred he saw exceeded even Vernon's. The obsidian glare was still... still boring into him. Harry never thought that he would use old clichés, but "if looks could kill" sprung to his mind. The hair in his neck stood up and he had to clench his teeth to keep them from clattering. It was suddenly very cold.

"Hand. Over. My. Wand."

So much contempt concentrated in four words. Snape didn't yell. He was quiet. Dangerously quiet. Harry decided, that it was probably wiser to cooperate. After all, he had just found out that Snape was indeed on his side. His own stupidity might have blown it all though. Harry cursed himself.

With a sigh, an unable to stop his shivering, Harry handed over the black ebony wand. Snape put it in his robe.

“Yours, too. No debate. Give it right now.”

Harry handed it over reluctantly. But he did.

"It seems I have been mistaken about the precious Potter boy," Snape drawled, his voice barely a whisper.

"You are not exactly like your father. You are worse. You should be sent to Azkaban for what you have just done."

"I...," Harry muttered. "I thought you..."

"You don't ever think, Potter."

Harry tried to take a step back. He had forgotten that there was a wall right behind him. Snape was so close that Harry feared he would spit in his face any second. The man was still considerably taller and in much better shape than Harry was.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Harry glared at him. Somewhat defiantly.

“How dare you. How DARE you think you could do such a thing? You could have killed us both! Your arrogance has assumed alarming proportions.”

Snape came even closer and it took a lot of willpower to not flinch. The blow would come. Undoubtedly.

"How can you even think of performing legilimency on anyone? Do you believe that you are an actual match to Dumbledore?. You know... There are his powers. There are the Dark Lord's. Your teacher's. Your parents'. Your friends' powers. Then there are a few barrows filled with mud. Followed by Longbottom's 'skills'. Then, vacuousness... for a long, long time. And your magical abilities... you... aren't even in sight yet."

While Snape kept talking and getting worked up, Harry started to feel shooting pains in his stomach. They tried to force him to bend over and cling his scrawny arms around his body. But Harry was used to pain. And used to never showing it. He couldn’t help but wince a little though.

“You actually have the decency to grin at me?” Snape continued with the same deadly tone in his voice.

“Sir…”

“How DARE you talk back now? HAS NO ONE EVER TAUGHT YOU ANYTHING IN THAT PATHETIC LITTLE LIFE OF YOURS?”

The degree of the man’s fury was starting to really scare Harry now. The obsidian eyes shot daggers of concentrated hatred at the teen. His mouth was strangely twisted, the corners twitched dangerously. The flying back hair gave him a look of permanent derangement.

“Do you not understand? How many people have to die before Harry Potter first thinks and then acts? Are you too birdbrained to realise that your irresponsible actions tend to get people killed?”

Anger washed over Harry now. Snape was going too far this time. He was trying to break him just with words.

“Do we have something in common then?” he spat. Then regretted it immediately.

Within a millisecond, Snape had him pinned to the wall. His good hand grabbed Harry’s collar. Tight.

Snape’s cheeks now took the colour of Vernon’s when he started to lose control.

“How low do you think you can sink, Potter? Your sense of humour is just as disgusting as your father’s.”

When Snape saw that this comment actually caused a reaction in Harry, an evil sneer appeared on his face. The tension was unendurable. Harry’s self-discipline gave in just for a second and his arm flew up to protect his face from the blow that was sure to follow.

Snape interpreted it as an attack. With the reflexes of a true Death Eater, he grabbed Harry’s arm and forced it back down.

“POTTER!” he screamed. Then his voice went low, lower than Harry had ever heard it.

“It is no wonder that no one cares about you. Black was only ever interested in your father. Never in you. Dumbledore used you as a pawn in his brilliant game. And your relatives... I understand their sentiments of wanting to get rid of you!”

After this, Harry wanted nothing more than to leave. He couldn’t stand any more of Snape’s taunting. Not one word. Without realising, he bit his lip until he tasted blood and clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms. He had to drop the gaze and use all his energy to not cry. And to break free. After he had managed it, Harry was sure that while escaping, he was going to be kicked, thrashed or have some heavy object thrown at him. None of this happened. He seemed to hear Snape hiss something spiteful, but he couldn’t make it out. It was better that way.

He ran into the same room he had found the sink in. After quickly locking it, he saw that it must have been some sort of staff room. Less creepy. There was a small kitchen and a cupboard. Harry’s stomach was still hurting from hunger. He quickly grabbed a tin of beans and sausages and without checking the date or bothering to warm it up, he ate all of it and sat down on a grubby sofa.

His head suddenly seemed too heavy to stay up on its own and he had to support it with his hands.

One year to live... Harry thought. One year in which he had to complete a near impossible task and... his reward was death.

He fell asleep anyway.