For those who have read the original of this story, I apologize for my lack of courtesy when it comes to updating. I could list excuses, but I shall not. Those who are unfamiliar and are first-time readers, welcome. I would like to assume that my story telling abilities are much better than they were a few years ago when I first wrote this fic, but I will let you be the judge.

I hope you all enjoy.

The Line Between the Two

1. Adrenaline

"Get up, Harry."

It was utterly impossible to recognize the shaking form in front of the Dark Lord. The Boy Who Lived found he could not control his body as aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse coursed through his veins. He gasped for breath, desperate to refill his balking lungs, but they refused to respond. His brain felt like it was twitching and for all he knew, it probably was. There was one thing that Harry Potter did know for certain: If Lord Voldemort did not soon grow tired of torturing his new plaything and end this game, then he, Harry, would.

It felt like months had passed since the third task of the Triwizard Tournament had begun, days since he and Cedric Diggory had helped each other in the maze and simultaneously grasped the Triwizard Cup. Their shared triumph had quickly turned into panic when they realized that someone had turned the cup into a Portkey and had taken them somewhere far beyond the Hogwarts Quidditch field. They were soon found, though hardly by anyone who wanted to help. Harry felt a pang of regret in his chest as the memory of Wormtail's shrill voice shrieking the killing curse floated into his mind. He should have yelled at Cedric to run, to grab the Portkey and return to Hogwarts. Perhaps he should never have been so noble in the first place and simply taken the Triwizard Cup himself when Cedric had offered it to him. At least then the Hufflepuff would still be alive.

"Harry, I do believe I ordered you to stand."

The Death Eaters were laughing harder than ever. Still, they completely surrounded the two wizards and left zero room to escape. Not that Harry had the energy to do so as he struggled to get to his feet. He was panting from the effort, but he stood up as tall as he could and looked Voldemort in the eye.

Finding this equally as amusing as his followers, Voldemort raised his wand again, shouting, "Crucio!"

Harry was screaming again, the curse effecting every single cell in his body. However, the curse was lifted merely a few seconds later.

"I did not say you could rest," Voldemort's voiced crooned in mock-disappointment. "There shall be plenty of time for that, later."

Harry should have shuddered at the innuendo, but his Gryffindor courage was withering thin. He knew he would die here, in this God-forsaken place, and he would never be found. Perhaps Voldemort would flaunt his body in the streets of Diagon Alley, or worse, Hogwarts. The thought made his stomach churn, but not enough to distract him. His torturer was speaking again.

"Harry, do you want it to end?"

The boy, for even now, he was still only a boy, closed his eyes for a moment. He felt a temporary sense of relief as a scene of his own invention flashed before his eyes: Ron and Hermione were waving and wishing him good luck, Hagrid granted him a thumbs up from behind them, and Mrs. Weasley was coming forward to wrap him affectionately in her arms. He had never told her how thankful he was to have met her, to have someone love him as unconditionally as she loved her own children...

"Look at me," Voldemort suddenly ordered. Being hit one too many times with the Imperius Curse, Harry almost automatically lifted his head, the memory forgotten. Voldemort's eyes gleamed for a moment but quickly went back to their amused form.

"Did you not hear me, Harry?" The rhetorical question earned more snickers from the Death Eaters and Voldemort waited for them to quiet down before continuing. "I could end it all, right now, if you wish. Would you like that?"

From his kneeling position on the ground, Harry stared expressionlessly at the wizard above him for a moment before shifting his eyes down and mumbling something.

"I'm afraid I could not make out what you said. Speak up, Harry."

This time, Voldemort sent a quick glare at his followers and they immediately fell silent. He wanted to hear this. He needed to hear this. There was a short pause before Voldemort prompted him again.

"Has the brave, noble Gryffindor finally laid down his sword?"

Harry's voice was barely audible when he replied, "Yes."

Voldemort's eyes were flashing again in excitement, but Harry did not see. The Dark Lord continued, "You admit then, that the times you escaped me and survived were due to chance and nothing more?"

"Yes."

"You admit that your powers never were and never shall be anything compared to mine?"

"Yes."

"My dear boy, are you ready to see your mother and father again?"

"...Yes."

"Then ask me."

Harry's head suddenly shot up to face those red eyes. He should have expected this; of course Voldemort wanted him to beg for his own execution.

"Say it," he hissed quietly. "Just once, Harry Potter, and I shall oblige your wish."

The sound of leaves rustling across the graveyard went unnoticed by all. Every single one of the Death Eaters had their eyes glued on the two wizards and were leaning forward to hear the boy's final words. They waited a full two minutes.

"...Please, " Harry whispered. It was a word he never thought he would have to say in front of this man- no, this monster.

"'Please', what?"

Harry's fists dug into the soft ground as a bit of his pride bubbled to the surface, disgusted with the words about to come out of his mouth. But then those crimson orbs narrowed dangerously, and his retort disappeared as he took a single deep breath.

"Please... my Lord."

The words burned like acid down his throat and he felt shame swallow him completely. He would have preferred to close his eyes and curl up into a ball on the ground to await his fate, but to the shock of his followers, Lord Voldemort's hand curled under Harry's chin and gently guided him to his feet. He stumbled to the side before finding his balance, rising to grant Voldemort with a genuinely confused expression. The Dark Lord said nothing and waved his hand to the left, summoning a long-forgotten wand from a few meters away. As he twirled it tenderly with his fingertips, Harry could not help but feel a sense of deja vu from his second year when the memory of Tom Riddle had done the same. Fifty years later, it still sent chills down his spine.

"I want you to stand and look at me when I kill you," Voldemort whispered coldly.

That was the last thing Harry heard before his world was plunged into darkness.

End Chapter 1.

Please review and if you enjoyed it, stay tuned for the next chapter.