Harry woke up gasping for breath. He dived out of bed and grabbed for his crutches. He had to get a shower. He had to get the feel of her off of him. He felt dirty, horribly unclean.

Where was the bathroom? He turned in an awkward circle, searching for another door, one that led to a bathroom. He had to get clean. He had to get rid of all traces of her.

The door opened, and Harry turned panicked eyes to find Snape.

“Where's the bathroom?” he asked breathlessly.

“Down the hall. Why?” said Snape.

“I have to take a shower,” said Harry and headed towards the door.

“I know spells that will work just fine. You don't need to get your bandages wet,” said Snape.

“No, you don't understand,” said Harry as he tried to push past Snape.

Snape grabbed his arm and Harry flinched, lost control of the crutches, and fell to the floor. When Snape moved to help him up, he scooted backwards awkwardly.

“Don't touch me,” he said, looking wildly for a way to escape. His crutches were lying next to Snape, but he wasn't going to risk being touched by the man. Snape frowned slightly and pushed the crutches toward him with his foot.

“Get back up so you can return to bed,” said Snape.

“No,” said Harry, shaking his head desperately. “I can't go back to sleep. I have to take a shower.”

“Stop your pathetic mewling and get back to bed. You look quite clean to me,” said Snape impatiently.

“Please,” begged Harry.

He couldn't tell Snape what he'd seen. He couldn't. Snape would ridicule him for it; he knew that. All the while, the feeling of being unclean was driving him mad. Snape sighed and looked down at him.

“All right Potter, but you have ten minutes, no more,” said Snape.

“Thank you sir,” said Harry gratefully as he levered himself up with his crutches.

Snape led him down the hall to a plain bathroom. The instant the door closed behind Snape, Harry hurriedly pulled off his clothes while balancing precariously on his crutches.

He finally sank into the bathtub with a sigh of relief. He turned on the main tap and led scalding hot water pour out, then turned on several ones of soap.

Harry grabbed a washcloth and began scrubbing viciously at his skin. The marks that were nearly healed turned a fiery red again with Harry's desperate attempt to remove all traces of her from his body.

It wasn't enough, though. She was in his pores, in his veins. He abandoned the washcloth and scratched his skin with his stubby fingernails. Tiny droplets of blood oozed from the scratches, dripping into the water and coloring it red. He hissed in pain as the water seared his skin and seeped into the scratches.

“Potter!” he heard Snape's voice from outside the room. “You've been in there long enough!”

No, it hadn't been long enough. He wasn't clean yet. Snape wouldn't come in there, would he? Harry cast a horrified look at the door and resumed rubbing at his skin with the washcloth.

“I'm not finished yet!” called Harry. The door flew open and Snape stomped in.

“Hey!” yelled Harry. “Get out of here!”

Thankfully, Snape kept his gaze well away from Harry. He grabbed a towel off the rack and threw it in Harry's direction.

“I told you ten minutes and it's been well past fifteen,” growled Snape. “Get dressed now or I will make you.”

Harry glared at Snape, but obediently took the towel. He dressed carefully while seated on the edge of the bathtub with a wary eye on Snape.

When he was finished, Snape pushed his crutches closer with the toe of one black boot. Harry was positive he had seen boots like that before, he just couldn't remember where….

“Back to your room, Potter,” said Snape and opened the door. Harry hobbled after him, still thinking longingly of the scalding hot water.

Snape ushered Harry into his room and ordered him to get into bed. Harry unwilling complied. Only when Snape came to him with the orangish restorative did he balk openly.

“Potter, if you ever want your memories back, I'd suggest you drink it!” growled Snape.

After seeing …that …with …her, he wasn't so sure he wanted his memories back anymore. He took the potion, though, knowing that if he didn't Snape could always force him to drink it. The potion quickly took effect and Harry fell into his forgotten memories.

Harry was screaming as his arms were pinned behind his back so tightly that it felt as though his muscles would tear.

“Let go,” he screamed, mortified to be begging his captors.

“And why would we do that?” asked a man and laughed. Harry began to lose his resolve. He would never get out of this hell. No one could save him. The only person who could was currently masquerading as a Death Eater himself. And it would be beyond even his power to get Harry out of there. He hung his head in defeat.

He heard laughter, then a silky voice say, “You've broken him already?”

“Ah, Snape, you've arrived at last. He's not broken, don't worry,” said a feminine voice.

“Very good,” said Snape.

Harry heard a soft rustling noise and raised his eyes to see Snape kneeling in front of him. Harry felt sick as his eyes met the dark ones of Snape. The man's eyes held no pity, no remorse.

“You bastard,” he choked out. Snape's lips quirked into a smirk.

“You think your teacher is incapable of being a Death Eater? Perhaps a few lessons are in order,” said Snape.

No, he knew Snape was a Death Eater, but Snape had rescued him. This had to be an act, a show put on for the Death Eaters. It wasn't real. It was all a feint. It had to be, he thought desperately. Snape's smirk grew broader and he raised his wand.

“Crucio,” he said quietly and Harry's body was suddenly wracked with pain. Harry screamed, hoping for it to end and praying that this was an act. Because he didn't know if he could handle it if Snape had helped more than this.

The curse was ended and Harry lay gasping for breath on the cold floor. His muscles screamed in agony as he raised himself up to a sitting position.

“You're evil, absolutely evil. Dumbledore was mad to trust you,” he hissed.

“Oh was he now?” sneered Snape.

“Yes,” said Harry. “You're nothing but a lying, scheming Death Eater!”

“Ah, but Dumbledore doesn't know that, does he? And he won't ever know,” said Snape softly.

“Yes he will find out!” said Harry hotly.

“You actually think he's going to come rescue you?” asked Snape.

“Yes,” said Harry firmly, but he felt a niggling doubt in the back of his mind.

“Well, you're sadly mistaken then,” said Snape viciously. “He's not coming for you. No one is. You're going to die in here, all alone.”

“I--you're lying,” stammered Harry.

“No, I'm not. Dumbledore trusts me far more than you know, pathetic boy,” said Snape. He flicked his wand and a long strand of leather appeared. “And as for you calling me a liar…”

He flicked the leather and it cracked through the air and collided painfully with his chest. Harry double over, clutching the spot the whip had hit him. He heard the cracking noise again and felt the whip lash against his back.

Snape Vanished the whip and shoved Harry backwards. He knelt down with his knees pressing on Harry's legs. Harry fought to get the man off of him, but quickly found himself with his wrists and ankles chained to the floor.

Snape tore away what was left of his shirt and brandished a knife. Harry watched anxiously as Snape pressed the tip of the knife to his chest and pressed down, drawing a few drops of blood. He slowly moved the knife, tracing the letters F-R-E-A-K. Harry's hands shook slightly as blood oozed from the letters and onto the floor.

“Scared, Potter?” mocked Snape.

Harry was scared of this and what lay ahead for him in captivity, but he mustered up enough courage to hiss, “You wish.”

Snape growled deep in his throat and slapped Harry. Harry turned his head back and glared at Snape. The man merely raised his hand and hit Harry again, this time with the flat side of the knife. Harry winced as the sharp edge bit into his cheek. Snape smirked malevolently and dragged the knife down Harry's chest, etching a twisted, curving line into Harry's flesh.

“Please stop,” begged Harry.

“Do you promise to behave now?” asked Snape, the knife still pressed to Harry's skin.

“Yes,” Harry choked out.

“Good,” said Snape. “And to reinforce that…”

Snape pulled a think bit of leather from his robes and wrapped it around Harry's neck. He tapped it with his wand and then smirked at Harry.

“You will listen to me or you will be sorry.”

Harry had no doubt that the collar was designed to make him obey and he didn't want to even tempt Snape. He lay motionless with his wrists still bound and stared up at Snape, into the man's pitiless gaze.

Snape flicked his wand and Harry flinched, expecting the worst, but his bonds merely disappeared and Snape stepped back with his calculating gaze set on Harry. Harry remained still, disturbed by the intensity of the look Snape was giving him. The man looked as though he might pounce upon Harry at any minute. He did not need that to happen; Bellatrix had been bad enough. Harry became uncomfortably aware that he was still lying in blood. His blood.

“Get up and get on your knees,” ordered Snape abruptly as Harry was attempting to quell his nausea at the sick smell. Harry did so, but apparently not fast enough for Snape. He felt a stinging jolt shoot through his spine and nearly fell face down on the dirty floor.

“That's what you get for not obeying me,” said Snape.

“But what did I do?” protested Harry.

“Silence!” ordered Snape. “You will not speak at all unless I tell you to.” He flicked his wand and another debilitating shock ran through Harry's body. “Understood?”

Harry said “Yes, sir” a little shakily.

“You will stay where you are until I return,” said Snape and walked out, leaving Harry alone with the group of Death Eaters who stared at him and whispered amongst themselves. The cold floor made his knees protest, but Harry didn't dare move an inch. Even moving that much would probably set Snape off.

About ten minutes later, the door opened to admit Snape and a black-cloaked figure. The person accompanying Snape threw back his hood to reveal the serpentine face and red eyes of Voldemort. Harry locked eyes with the man and at once realized that that was a mistake.

He could feel Voldemort's presence ripping ruthlessly through his mind, searching for only one thing: the knowledge of how to destroy him. The prophecy that controlled his life. No! He had to stop him. But he didn't know how. Snape had never shown him how.

‘THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…'

Harry tried to close his eyes, turn his face away, anything to keep Voldemort from hearing the prophecy, but he couldn't move his gaze from Voldemort's eyes.

‘…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT…AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER, FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…'

Voldemort smiled evilly and Harry dropped his head to face his knees, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. He had failed. Voldemort would kill him now.

“So, Potter, what is this power I know not? It seems to me that you are nothing but a defenseless little child. My equal? You are nothing. Nothing,” said Voldemort. “Severus, he is yours. Be sure and bring him to me when you get bored with him.”

Harry heard the door shut with a loud snap and then a soft “Crucio.”

Pain ripped through his body and he screamed.

Harry woke tangled in his bedcovers and panting heavily. Oh God. Snape had helped them. He had been one of the Death Eaters to torture him. The click of the door opening made Harry stop untangling himself and reach with both hands to scrabble at his neck to see if the collar was still there. He froze with his hands on his neck when he saw Snape come in.

He quickly dropped his hands and stared at Snape with wide eyes. When he'd been captured, that had all been an act, hadn't it? It had to have been. Dumbledore would have never made him stay with Snape if the man really was a Death Eater.

“Potter, what is the matter with you now?” asked Snape irritatedly.

Harry remained silent. What if it hadn't been an act? What if this was all a sick game, Voldemort still had him and Snape was still evil?