The wooden door creaked open, revealing nothing beyond it but darkness. Harry barely had time to blink before Lucius removed his bonds and shoved him forward. Harry fell through the open doorway and down a short flight of steps, tasting blood as his teeth snapped down on his tongue. He coughed and rolled onto his back on the stone floor, carefully replacing his glasses onto his face—one of the frames had shattered—and looking up at Lucius' silhouette against the light on the other side of the doorway.
"Be a good boy and stay there, Potter," Lucius growled. "The Dark Lord will be back soon, and I'm not going to invite you into the kitchen for a cup of tea while we wait."
He slammed the door, leaving Harry in complete darkness. He drew in a long, shuddering breath and lay back down, letting his head rest on the cold stone and feeling a shiver run down his back. He hated this choking blackness; it reminded him of the broom closet he had been standing in before the battle started—only a few hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime—looking at the picture of Draco, smiling to remember the day it had been taken…
Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the blackness and hugged himself tightly, trying to repel the memories that sent painful spears through his severed heart, making it bleed, destroying it completely.
He hated them, and yet he loved them.
He couldn't have explained it, but some part of him reached for the memories, wished to live in them again, back in the times of happiness and contentment and love. Back in the times of no war, no fear, no pain, no grief, no death.
But at the same time, he shied away from the memories, wished to be rid of the images that haunted his mind. They were relentless, never letting him relax, always needing to remind him of the pure, honest panic lighting Draco's eyes as he spun around, taking his gaze, his focus, off of Lucius, the one who wanted to kill him, to look at Harry.
He turned around when…when I screamed. I screamed, and he got distracted—he thought I was hurt—it's my fault, it's all my fault!
Harry's voice echoed violently off the blank walls as he screamed into the darkness, giving voice to his terrible grief, tasting the blood still in his mouth and feeling it coating his lips. He cared nothing for it, he cared nothing for anything else.
He's dead and it's my fault! I as good as killed him myself!
The words seared through his mind like the hottest fire. Harry screamed again and again, clawing at his arms with his fingernails and drawing himself into a ball on the floor. He choked on the blood in his mouth and swiped his hand across his tongue, smearing crimson along his palm and wrist. He kept screaming until the shock of his realization began to morph to panic, and as he felt himself begin to lose control he quieted, breathing hard, his shirt damp with sweat and his eyes wide and wary but unable to penetrate the darkness. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, feeling completely vulnerable and undefended without a wand.
He jumped as the door of the cellar was unlocked and two Death Eaters marched inside, one of them holding up a lamp and letting light flood the cellar. Harry scrambled over to the nearest wall, pressing his back against it and shaking with fear.
"What do you know, it really is Potter," said the Death Eater with the lamp, smirking cruelly down at Harry. "I thought Lucius had finally lost his mind."
"Looks like he ain't the only one," the other said, with a gesture at Harry. "Looks more like Wormtail than Harry Potter, shivering like that."
The harsh laughter of both of them reached Harry's ears and invaded his head, making him press his back more firmly against the cold wall. He hated the sound; their laughs were nothing like Draco's had been: so full of light, so welcome, especially when Harry had been the one to make him laugh… He tried to move away, but the two Death Eaters stopped laughing and approached him, their eyes narrowed menacingly.
"Oh, no you don't, Potter," one of them said, outstretching his arms. "We're under orders to take you to the Dark Lord."
Harry's heartbeat roared in his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, swallowing some of the blood in his mouth and hoping fervently that this was all some mistake, that he was not here, trapped in a dark cellar between a wall and two threatening Death Eaters, that he was really somewhere else, anywhere else, having this nightmare and that he would wake in a few moments to be staring at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement and that Draco, the light sleeper that he was, would be awake and leaning over him with a concerned expression on his face, ready to reassure him that it had all been a bad dream….
The Death Eaters' hands closed around Harry's arms and he yelled with shock as they dragged him to his feet. He thrashed wildly against them, but they were much stronger; they easily pulled him up the stairs from the cellar and into the large room that lay beyond it. So many people were there, and Harry's wide eyes were able to take in all of the faces within heartbeats. There was the pale, crimson-eyed face of Lord Voldemort, sitting comfortably in a chair at the far end of the room like a king on his throne. Lucius stood next to him, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Narcissa Malfoy stood in the corner behind her husband. Her head was down and the tendrils of her long blonde hair were hiding her face, but Harry could see tears dripping silently to the floor. Severus Snape was standing on Voldemort's other side, looking as calm and collected as always. But when he fixed his black eyes on Harry, their depths churned with such startling complexity that Harry looked away.
"Ah, Harry," Voldemort purred, his blood-red eyes coming to rest on Harry and the two Death Eaters that held him. "So nice of you to join us this evening."
Harry struggled against the two men, but they were strong and he was badly weakened by his ordeal; they held him firmly in place.
"Tonight we celebrate," Voldemort said smoothly, "our victory over the people of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While they have fought valiantly, we won in the end, as they should have known we would."
Harry tried to jam his elbow into the stomach of one of the Death Eaters; the man held him easily at bay.
"We have suffered losses," Voldemort said, a note of fake-sounding sympathy creeping into his tone. "Bellatrix, for one. Such a shame."
In the corner, Narcissa gave a quiet sob. Nobody paid her any attention.
"And young Draco as well," the silky voice continued, now sounding bored. "Perhaps this battle was too much for him. Perhaps he was not as useful as I would have liked him to be."
Harry's head snapped up as he heard the condescending words. Anger flooded him like lava, flowing through his veins in place of blood, tingeing his vision with red.
He was as brave as any of my people! You're not even worthy to say his name!
Harry threw his full weight forward; the Death Eaters stumbled as he caught them off guard and yanked them forward a few feet before they dug their heels into the carpet and pulled him back. He yelled with rage and thrashed violently, twisting his head around to sink his teeth into the arm of one of the Death Eaters. The man yelled and released the grip on his shoulder; Harry kicked out against the other Death Eater, using his free arm to reach for the wand that was sticking out of his pocket. His fingers closed over it, but before he could say a spell, the other Death Eater recovered and grabbed Harry's legs, holding them tightly, immobilizing them. Harry slashed the air with the wand, screaming defiance, and Voldemort bellowed, "Restrain him!"
Immediately the two Death Eaters seemed to rejuvenate, both of them seeming to recover their strength as they each got a better hold on Harry and threw him to the floor. Lucius flew out of nowhere and joined the fray, landing a hard blow with his fist on Harry's jaw and making him shriek with pain. One of the other Death Eaters kicked him in the ribs with a heavy boot, and Harry twisted frantically in an attempt to get away. The wand was wrenched out of his hand. His arm was mercilessly twisted back with a strong hand as another of Lucius' blows landed squarely on his cheekbone and made pain burst to life in the left side of his face.
Everything seemed to explode inside Harry's mind with frightening force. Lucius was beating him with reckless abandon, his gray eyes blazing and his tightly clenched fists a blur as they appeared out of nowhere. Blows fell like rain all over Harry's body, making him scream out with pain. He could feel blood pouring from his nose. The other two Death Eaters were trying to restrain Harry by pinning his legs and arms to the floor; finally they gave up and one of them flung himself across Harry's chest, driving the breath from him. He gasped for air as his head began to swim with sheer terror and agony. Sounds hurt inside his head; everything was much too loud. The blood was roaring in his ears; he could hear Narcissa sobbing, Lucius cursing, and the two Death Eaters yelling as they fought to restrain him.
Harry strained against the pressure of the man lying across his body, twisting frantically, trying to escape. The other Death Eater forced his head back against the floor and his eyes suddenly connected with crimson gaze of Lord Voldemort. On the deathly pale face was a sort of pleasant, calm expression that indicated he found the whole thing amusing. Hatred filled Harry like fatal poison, but it quickly turned to terror, paralyzing him instantly. A scream ripped from his throat as he watched, with clear, frightening detail, Lucius' fist fly down at him—
And then there was darkness.