The smell of blood and death hung in the air like a thick fog. She woke up confused, ‘where was she…? and how did she get here…? but there was noting.’ It was pitch black, as if someone had flipped a switch and turned off the sun. Every part of her body ached; she tried to lift her head from the hard, freezing floor, but it required the use of too much energy and she slumped back down. The air was poisoned, and stung her lungs every time her chest rose.

She refused to scream, she wouldn’t give the enemy the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Chocking, gagging, and half-conscience, Lily opened one eye to find herself propped against a man who was force feeding her something that had a smell and taste consistent with tar. She spit madly, kicking legs and flexing her arms into the stranger.

Potter reacted more quickly then he had anticipated. Shoving him against a brick building his wand in Severus’ throat. “Where is she?” he spat. His eyes had never looked so dangerous his tone had never been so devoid of all humor. “Don’t push me Snape, I will do it…” his voice trailed off and Severus had no doubts that he would. Severus had never seen Potter so intense, finding his voice again he said “take me to Dumbledore.”