Draco was stunned. Never before, would he have thought that those words would be uttered from his father's mouth. His sly, cunning, Slytherin-to-the-core father. He couldn't be sure if this was some kind of ruse to turn him in to the Dark Lord, or not.

Draco chose to be suspicious. "How can I believe you?" he asked, edging away.

Lucius actually looked pleased. "I'm glad to know that you are not going to be gullible. That is good." He glanced at the door. "Draco, I will allow you to see Potter, just to show you my sincerity."

However doubtful he was, he was morbidly curious to see what condition he was in. Still looking suspicious, he nodded.

Lucius returned the gesture and stood up from the bed. He was still in his dark colored Death Eater robe. Draco followed him awkwardly, still in his pyjamas. "Where did they take him?" he whispered. He didn't know why he was using a low voice, it just seemed appropriate as they were about to go see someone recently tortured.

"He's in the dungeons," Lucius replied, voice low as well.

Draco had never liked the dungeons that much. It had always reminded him of the things that must have took place down there, back a long time ago.

They passed the dining room, which was back to normal. They walked down a long hallway, torches lighting up as they passed. They then started the descent down to the deepest part of Malfoy Manor. For some reason, maybe magic was involved, the lighting in the dungeons was always a sickly blue-green.

Lucius turned a corner, and took out his wand. There was a cell door in front of them, and the elder Malfoy tapped the lock, whispering, "Alohomora." The door swung inwards, designed so that if the prisoner was trying to escape by standing next to the door, the idea was that he or she would get hit and smacked backwards.

They tiptoed into the room. It smelled awful… like blood. Draco wrinkled his nose, breathing through his mouth. It was darker in here, and in a corner at the back of the room, there Potter was, shackled to the wall, slumped over. Draco hoped he was just unconscious.

Lucius carefully walked over. He held his wand in a slightly shaky hand, kneeling down beside Potter. Draco heard him breathe out a tremulous sigh. He had never seen his father like this before.

"Are you sure you want to see the damage?" Lucius asked quietly, glancing back at Draco, who was still standing in the doorway.

Draco resolved himself. "Yes," he said firmly, walking forward. His father put a hand on the top of Potter's head, and pushed it up. Draco nearly gagged at the sight presented to him.

Potter's entire face was covered in angry, surprisingly symmetrical slash marks that were still bleeding. Well, some of them. The ones that had obviously been burnt onto his face had been cauterized at the moment of impact. The only spot on his face that wasn't criss-crossed with cuts was over his famous scar- but that area was severely burnt.

Slowly, and with much trepidation, he looked downwards. Past his bloodstained clothes, past his ragged form. His eyes focused on Potter's right foot. When he saw what was down there, he did gag. He nearly lost his dinner in that moment.

The severed toe was cut off all the way, just like his father had told him. He could see the white bone peeking out of his foot… it was absolutely horrible how it was still trickling a small amount of blood.

"Father… is there any way we can help him?" Draco asked, voice hoarse once more.

His father looked closer at his foot. "I think the only thing we could do is try to disinfect things. We can't do any more, since that would cause suspicion amongst the ranks of my Lord's followers."

Draco nodded in understanding. "That makes sense." He averted his eyes from the scene in front of him. He found it very unnerving that his school-yard rival, the one he could rely on almost always being constantly strong against his barbs, was laying there, helpless. Wounded, seriously.

Lucius muttered a few spells Draco couldn't catch. It looked like nothing had happened, but his father looked satisfied.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I cast a minor pain-relieving spell on him, along with a disinfectant charm that should last for about 24 hours. A disinfectant potion would be more effective, but the only person I know who can make them is Professor Snape, and we both know where his loyalties lie," Lucius replied darkly. Both of them knew- or thought they knew- that Severus Snape was completely loyal to the Dark Lord.

They stood there, watching the tenuous rise and fall of Potter's chest for a few seconds. Lucius abruptly said, "Come, Draco. Let's get back to bed."

And, with one backward glance, they left the dungeons and parted ways to their respective bedrooms. Neither expected a good night's sleep.

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Severus Snape was frantically pacing the headmaster's office. He had just gotten from the latest Death Eater meeting, and he hadn't had time to explain exactly what had transpired in that gathering in particular.

"What are we going to do, Albus?!" Remus Lupin said desperately, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, face in hands. He had been notified immediately of Harry's disappearance the moment it happened. Well, the moment they found out it happened. Remus himself was at the battle when it transpired.

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Remus was dispatching a masked Death Eater with a well aimed cutting jinx. He stumbled backwards, clutching his injured shoulder. His mouth was twisted into a snarl, and Remus wondered who he was dueling for a split second.

That train of thought skidded to a stop when the Death Eater raised his wand, about to cast a counterattack. Just as Remus was about to throw up a shield, the black clad man hesitated. He then gripped his left arm, very nearly dropping his wand.

Remus didn't have time to react as the man disapparated on the spot. The dark figures all around the lawn were all disappearing, seemingly without cause. Everyone around looked extremely bewildered.

What had happened?

Where and why did everyone suddenly retreat?

Those were questions he couldn't answer at that moment.

The next few minutes were filled with extreme panic and confusion as they found the bodies of Petunia and Vernon Dursley at the foot of the staircase. Dudley Dursley was a gibbering mess by the time they had gotten to him, shell shocked over the loss of both of his parents in one fell swoop. A mass obliviate had to be organized for all of the muggle bystanders that happened to see the mini-battle in progress.

They found the Dark Lord's snake frantically hissing and slithering around the side of the house. They were about to do a calculated attack on her, but Dumbledore intervened just in time to tell them that she was on their side. She was in such a mess that they had to put her in magical bindings to keep her from lashing out at anyone who came too close.

Then, Dumbledore had noticed the absence of one Harry Potter. A mass search was underway in no more than five minutes. No one could find him- no apparition traces, or anything. The headmaster had gotten yelled at by over ten people at once, all wondering where his sanity had went for vacation. Why on earth did he bring Harry to the battle?

Snape still refuses to admit that he had also been screaming at Dumbledore.

It seemed like the beginning of the end.

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Severus saw Lupin's head rise out of his hands. "Was there any information you gathered on this all-day-long meeting of yours?" he asked, sounding irritated.

All bedside mannerisms that Severus had been preparing to break the news to both men vanished in that instant. "Oh yes," he drawled. "It was very informative," he ended in a snarl, slamming his fists into the headmaster's desk in a rare moment of uncontrollable rage. In that moment, he looked truly terrifying. His hair curtained over his eyes, making them seem encompassed in glittering black.

Dumbledore looked slightly frightened. Not of Severus, but of what such a reaction implied. "Did they have him, Severus?" he whispered.

All of the professor's anger seemed to drain out of him. "Yes," he said hoarsely.

"How many crucios?" he asked, unaware that he was echoing Draco's question from before.

Severus stumbled over to his chair, not meeting anyone's eyes. "He… only suffered one, but Bellatrix Lestrange used various muggle torture methods on him."

The headmaster paled even further and Lupin moaned in anguish.

"What happened to him?" Remus asked, voice slightly choked. He shivered, imagining the pain Harry went through.

Severus shifted in his seat, staring at one of the spinning objects that was hovering close to the ceiling. "Bellatrix took a knife and carved designs into his face. She burnt his forehead severely, and she cut off his right pinkie toe," he said in monotone, almost as if he was reciting a script.

Lupin let out a sob, covering his mouth. "All that in one afternoon?"

Severus nodded. "At the end, unconsciousness finally had mercy on him."

Lupin looked lost. "Albus, we have to rescue him!" he exclaimed, standing up. "I won't have my cub go through any more pain and torture thanks to your judgemental errors! And you!" he turned to look at the potions professor. "I understand that you don't have custody of Harry, but you were supposed to keep an eye on him!"

Severus didn't comment. Lupin was just going through a phase of anger. It was understandable, although he couldn't have done anything for Harry while he had been summoned. For Salazar's sake, he didn't even know that the headmaster had allowed the boy to fight!

He just levelled a blank stare in his direction, and Lupin seemed to deflate, collapsing back onto his chair. "What will we do?" the werewolf despaired, fingernails clawing at his bare arms.

The headmaster looked even more guilty than he did when it had been revealed that Harry had been abused at his home. Remus didn't know about that certain turn of events, but he accepted the fact that Harry had to stay in the safest location possible- Hogwarts.

Severus spoke up. "I will most likely blow my cover, but I will attempt to rescue Har- Potter at the next meeting," he said, hoping that no one noticed the slip of his tongue. Lupin was too deep in distress that it had escaped his attention, but the headmaster had obviously caught on to it if the slight incline of his head said anything.

Dumbledore sighed and folded his hands on his desk. "Yes, it seems like you will have to," he said, defeated. "What will we tell the Order?"

"We'll tell them the truth." The Order of the Phoenix had been imploring about Harry's whereabouts ever since he had vanished. If Severus didn't know any better, he would have thought that Albus Dumbledore had been in Slytherin with the amount of scheming he got up to.

Severus quickly grew tired of the tense silence. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go console a hysterical snake, and wait for the Dark Lord's next call." Without waiting for permission, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a strangely finalizing thud.

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Harry snapped awake, coming to a slight level of awareness. His face hurt. His foot hurt. Everything hurt. His foggy brain cleared up slightly, and he remembered that he hadn't felt this pain-filled in a while.

A sudden, simultaneous twitch of his right arm and left leg snapped him fully awake. Woah. As the memories from the night before came rushing back, he felt faintly sick. He didn't have the courage to look at his missing toe quite yet, but he raised a shaking hand to his head.

He traced out all of the dry, crusted, dirty lines all over his face. He absentmindedly wondered why they didn't hurt more than they did. He pondered if Snape had been at the meeting.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, before holding his breath and firmly looking down. His breath whooshed out at the sight presented to him.

Like the younger Malfoy had seen the night before, it was crusted over with brownish black blood, and white bone was peeking out of the mangled tissue. He blinked, almost not taking in the damage. It was as if he were looking at someone else's foot, someone else's problem, and not his own.

He then noticed that he was thirsty. Really thirsty.

Almost as if on cue, the door banged open, and a small figure levitated a bowl of thin soup and a glass of water towards him. A house elf. It was dressed in ratty clothes, and it seemed as badly treated as Dobby had been when he was in the Malfoy's service. Malfoys! He bet that's where he was. Malfoy Manor!

The bowl and cup settled down in front of him. The small figure, strangely silent, retreated from the room. Harry's first instinct was to grab at the food. Even in the Dursleys' care, he got fed every once in a while.

But then, suspicion overrode hunger. What if this food was poisoned, or drugged? he asked himself, still behind the snake barriers in his mind. To Harry's great relief, they were still strong. He didn't know if occlumency shields were naturally this impervious. They probably weren't.

He refocused on the food situation. What was he going to do? Should he risk it, and give in to one of his most primal instincts, or should he be cautious and not ingest it?

Eventually, Harry's stomach directed his hands. It rumbled at the sight of the food, and he sighed, picking up the glass of water. He held it to his lips, thinking, What's the worst that could happen? I mean, it's not like the Malfoys would try to kill me. That's Voldemort's job!

He drank the water, soothing his parched throat. Well, at least he knew he could survive three more days, at most. If The Forsaken One doesn't kill you first, his mind told him. Shut up, he replied to his head. He absently wondered if he was going insane from the throbbing pain that was coming from his face and toe. It seemed to be getting worse.

He groaned and shifted his right foot under his left leg, in a vain attempt to stifle the growing, bone-deep ache. Suddenly, a stabbing pain shot through his whole body, making his hand scrape the bowl across the floor. He swallowed, re-noticing the thin soup on the floor.

Harry picked the spoon up in a shaking hand. He took a swallow of the soup, noticing the pain diminished somewhat when he swallowed. Confused, he took another spoonful. His face twisted in an expression of bewilderment when his agony reduced even further. His cheeks, nose, and forehead protested at the movement, twinging only slightly.

The injuries didn't seem to be getting any better, but they hurt less and less with each bite of the soup. He wondered why. Maybe they were preparing a special torture for him… who knew. Give them the benefit of the doubt, his mind told him. But why?

Once again, who knew.

Once Harry was done with the broth, he felt full and pain-free for the first time since he woke up. He pushed the bowl and glass away from him. He abruptly felt very tired. He wondered why, considering that the only thing he had been doing was sitting and eating.

Harry couldn't find it in himself to care in that moment.

He closed his eyes, wondering if he'd ever open them again. (A/N: A little melodrama for yah!)

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Lucius Malfoy truly didn't know what to think about this dilemma. Up until the night before, he had felt like his loyalty to the Dark Lord was absolutely unwavering.

That was before the… extravagant… torture scene that he had been forced to watch.

Usually, there were (quite) a few cruciatus curses thrown at a person until they either died of shock or went insane. It wasn't any easier to watch, but at least he couldn't see any external or internal damage. It was… different… watching Potter being tortured like that. It had made him feel ill, to be honest. Honesty was not a trait particularly associated with Lucius, but in that case, it felt appropriate.

After the torture, and making sure there were no little eavesdroppers anywhere, he went to Draco, and showed him Potter to gain his trust.

One question, spoken so quietly, but so truthfully, still haunted him. "Father… is there any way we can help him?"

He had mulled over that question almost all night, so much that Narcissa had asked what in Salazar's name was wrong with him. He just shook his head, and his wife fell silent.

He was also very worried about his Draco. The Dark Lord had pulled Lucius aside earlier in the summer, with a 'task' for his son. He was to kill… murder… the most powerful wizard of that day and age. Albus Dumbledore.

When morning came, he came to a conclusion about what he was going to do. He would send down a house elf with water and broth down to the dungeons, for food. He had asked Severus for a pain-relieving potion to be taken by the mouth a while ago, and it had been delivered. He also put in a sleeping draught in as well, so he didn't have to spend his day toiling away with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

It was now six in the afternoon. Lucius had spent his day in the Ministry of Magic, whispering in Cornelius Fudge's ear. It was one of his favorite things to do- it made him feel even more powerful than he already was. Even if his loyalty with the Dark Lord was wavering, he wasn't an idiot. If the Ministry suddenly started an Anti-Dark Lord movement, Lucius was going to feel the brunt of his Master's rage. Even if Potter was there to torture, he would be punished. And… questioned. By a certain Lestrange.

Lucius was in his lounge, staring into the fireplace. A cold front had blown up, making it colder, even in the summertime. He swirled some of the finest alcohol in his crystal glass, closing his eyes. The Dark Lord had been calling his followers to his side most every night. Maybe, since he was out of secrecy, now that the entirety of the wizarding world knew that he was back, he had been reinforcing that knowledge with as many attacks as possible.

Then, unexpectedly, his Mark started burning. He grabbed it, gasping. The symbol of his fidelity. Even if he did manage to get out of the Dark Lord's cold grasp, he'd have this scar on his arm for the rest of his life. He didn't know why he was calling them this time, but he had a good idea.

Instead of rushing outside in his Death Eater robes, Lucius took a deep breath and shed his outer clothes. Underneath, were the dark folds of his ceremonial garb. He slid his mask on, and pulled up his hood. It was time to see if his hunch had been right.

He slowly walked into the dining room, and sure enough, the Dark Lord himself was there- but without his snake. The last few meetings had been different without the terrifying serpent slithering amongst them. He honestly thought it was an improvement. He faintly wondered what had happened to the gigantic monstrosity while he threw himself at his Lord's feet.

A few long, tense seconds passed before the Dark Lord said, "Rise, Lucius." The man deliberately stood, head bowed. He had been trained well. He remembered when he had been a brash youth, getting to the point of almost challenging the Dark Lord. He had believed he was invincible, but a few crucios taught him differently.

He didn't meet his Master's eyes, but the hurricane of his occlumency shields were strengthened as possible. Severus had taught him well. To be able to occlude was a much needed skill in the process of subterfuge in the Ministry of Magic.

"Clear out the dining room. We will be having some more fun tonight, and you will not just be a spectator," the Dark Lord said. Lucius nodded, and backed away to wave his wand silently. The table vanished, but the chairs remained. He arranged them into a large circle simultaneously.

Many robed figures were now walking into the room, going to bow at their Master's feet. As he was dismissing Avery Nott, he took note of Lucius' silence. "Lucius," he said, voice ringing through the room. Surprisingly, it didn't echo. Every head either turned to him or the Dark Lord. "Are you not excited to be able to participate in the festivities tonight?" he asked, looking very dangerous at that point in time.

"My Lord, I am ecstatic to do whatever you want me to," Lucius answered. In truth, he was dreading the experience. Agitated seas whipped up into even more of a frenzy.

For once, the Dark Lord seemed to take that as a satisfactory answer. He turned to another masked person. "Severus. I wish for you to assist Lucius in what we will be doing." It was uncanny how he could tell who was under a mask in any given time. "Bellatrix," he commanded at a slightly shorter figure. "I wish for you to fetch Potter. You may be as… careless as you want in regards to his welfare, but I want him alive. Do not kill him. That is my desire," he finished in a chilling growl.

The figure's head bobbed, and it made its way out of the room, almost in a run. Lucius had no doubt that she was excited to 'see to' Potter. It was disgusting, really.

Everything was just about to settle down just as Bella returned with the boy. Young man, his mind supplied. Wait. Where had that come from? (A/N: If you haven't guessed already, I am the inner conscience.)

He was still asleep, knocked out with that sleeping draught. Well, he was about to get a very rude awakening, if the Dark Lord had anything to say about it.

Bellatrix deposited the load she had been dragging up the stairs and through the hallway. She had made sure to pull him by his right foot, no less.

Potter was immediately tied up in a chair, unlike the pole from last time. The bad part was, when they woke him up, he'd feel all of the pain he had experienced before. Well, and the headache he'd have thanks to Bella dragging him up a staircase by his feet.

Bellatrix levelled her wand at Potter, planning to cast a spell. "Stop, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord commanded. Confused, she lowered her arm. "You presume too much. If you were anyone else, I would have to punish you, but you were doing your job."

The insane woman grinned. "When will I be having fun with him?" she inquired.

The Dark Lord frowned. "You will not be having 'fun' with him tonight." Bella looked crestfallen. "However," he said, "you will be able to, another time." She perked right up at that statement. Wait. If Bellatrix wasn't going to do it, then who wou-

A command from earlier came to mind. "We will be having some more fun tonight, and you will not just be a spectator," the Dark Lord's voice rang in his head. "Severus. I wish for you to assist Lucius in what we will be doing."

Oh, no.

Lucius didn't want to do that. And with Severus… well. At least he knew that one person would be thoroughly enjoying this.

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Little did he know that Severus was thinking the exact same thing, just reversed.

Lucius will be pleased to be able to have the honor of torturing the Boy Who Lived, he thought. But I hate betraying Harry's trust. He considered the possibility of escape, but they couldn't, at least, not while there were so many of the Dark Lord's devoted followers around.

"Severus! Lucius! What are you doing, waiting? Come, give us a show!" Voldemort called impatiently. He rose from his chair, watching the other man stand too.

They slowly made their way to the middle of the room. They eyed each other, both feeling like they were walking a death march. They stopped simultaneously, on both sides of Harry's unconscious body.

Lucius' eyes suddenly hardened minutely. He raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and muttered, "Enervate."

Harry's eyes snapped open, and he took in a great gasp of breath. Severus couldn't help but notice how his lips didn't look too parched. How had he gotten water in the Malfoys' dungeons?

His trail of thought abruptly stopped when he saw Hary raise his head. He looked even worse than he did the day before, when the wounds were fresh. Trails of browned blood were crusted on his cheeks, forehead, and chin, and staining his clothes. Severus wasn't even looking at Potter's foot.

He groaned, and tried to lift his arms, but he was obviously restricted. He then seemed to take in his surroundings, becoming completely aware. Fear flashed in his eyes before it was strangely muted. Perhaps the occlumency, Severus thought.

The Dark Lord made a sound. Everyone turned to him, listening to what he had to say. "I rather enjoyed the moment when our dear Bella-" Lestrange preened- "cut off a limb. Those invoked the most delicious screams out of him."

Severus had to suppress a shudder of revulsion. How sick could that man get? It was one thing to torture someone he had never met before… but to do this to someone who he had known since he had started school… it just seemed wrong. And, usually the victims didn't last more than a day.

Severus still had to keep his act up. "Manually or magically, my Lord?" He ignored the despaired look Harry sent him. Acts. That all they were.

He actually looked pensive for a moment. "Hmmm…" the Dark Lord hummed. "Do both. Lucius, do something magically, and Severus, you can borrow one of Lestrange's toys." If his eyes weren't failing him, it seemed like Lucius looked disgusted for a second. Then, the look vanished as soon as it came. Occlumency and its many uses. Who knew. Maybe Lucius wasn't as loyal as he seemed.

That theory died when the man in question lifted his wand and aimed it at Harry's left hand. Harry tried to curl his fingers in reflexively, but Lucius pried his fist open. "Diffindo," he murmured harshly.

A shower of blood met the incantation. A ragged cry erupted from Harry's throat. He moaned in absolute anguish, not even trying to mask his pain anymore. It seemed like the will had been seeped out of him, dripping in red rivulets onto the ground. The Dark Lord chuckled in pleasure. Severus had to block out his emotions. He knew that his feelings would all come rushing out later like they always did, but it was nothing a little reparo couldn't fix.

"Your turn, Severus," Lucius said darkly.

Severus straightened his back. He pointed his wand to the corner of the room, where Bellatrix always kept her 'supplies.' No one had the courage to tell her not to, so they stayed there. "Accio," he muttered.

A knife zoomed toward his outstretched hand. Not a saw, like what Bella had used, but a knife. It would be quicker, and less painful for the young man tied in the chair.

He cast a sharpening charm on it, the one that Molly Weasley used when- no. Even with his advanced occlumency skills, he couldn't risk even thinking about that, in particular. Not here.

He didn't look at Harry's betrayed eyes, too out of it to even register that he was showing emotion. It was still too risky to attempt an escape. They would almost certainly be shot down by spells varying from the tripping jinx to the killing curse.

Severus examined Harry's left hand. Lucius had only cut the pinkie finger completely off, leaving the others only slightly gouged by the cutting spell. Severus didn't want to cut off any more of his limbs. There was something he could do, but it would most likely be just as painful, if not worse. However, he could heal it- with only a bit of scarring.

"My Lord," he spoke, looking up. The Dark Lord inclined his head, listening. "Would it be preferable if I used the same method that we utilized on the fourth of February?" Severus asked. He remembered the torture of that day as if it were the day before. It was… particularly horrendous. Bellatrix 'ooh'ed at the idea, apparently impressed at the suggestion.

His Master seemed to deliberate for a second. Somehow, the man remembered the date of every raid, and what happened- once again, unnatural. "Very well. I appreciate your ingenuity. You may do as you suggested."

He nodded, lifting the knife. He whispered a silent, desperate plea for forgiveness in his head as he lowered a practiced hand over Harry's right. The young man didn't even fight any longer. He took the hand in his left, separating the fingers and laying the edge of the knife on the tip of his pointer finger.

And he pulled down.

The skin came off like rolls of parchment, and Harry shrieked, life suddenly coming back into him. He sobbed in pain, clenching his eyes shut. Severus quickly sheared his finger of skin, ignoring the wretched screams of the person beside him. He methodically grabbed each struggling finger and did the same thing to all of them, thinking of them as a particularly difficult potions ingredient.

Then, he looked at the damage he had caused.

He had to hold back a condemning gag at the sight.

All that was left of Harry's right hand was muscle and bone. It was terrible and Severus had caused it- he cut that trail of thought at the bud. Thoughts like that would only get him in trouble.

He suppressed his emotions like the occlumency master he was. He watched dispassionately as Har- no Potter, thrashed around in utter agony. He couldn't afford to have any emotional attachments at that point. It would make his job so much more painful.

He retook Potter's mangled limb. He deftly sliced through the skin on his lower arm, mind still distant from the situation at hand. He had cut the skin off of Potter's arm in a straight line from the top of his hand to his elbow. His nostrils flared, and he took a step back, glancing at the Dark Lord as he did so.

The snake-faced man was leaning forward in his ornate seat, grinning like the maniac he was. What a sadist.

His gaze returned to Lucius, who was raising his wand again. Only then did Severus choose to notice the pitiful whimpers that were coming from Harry- no, Potter's mouth. His traitorous heart lurched at Potter's condition.

Blood was freely dripping down his left hand, down his arm, which had somehow become untied in the torment. It had been pitching about as Severus had inflicted his damage. He didn't need to focus on his right arm, because he knew what lay there.

"Inciendo," Lucius snarled, taking Severus out of his reverie. Potter's trousers had been set alight at the cuffs at the bottom. Severus saw the flames burning, detachedly. He heard Potter's shrieks, indifferently. Nothing could touch him when he got into this state. He usually regressed this much when the Death Eaters were doing something particularly horrendous. Like a mass… homicide… of a muggle population. Of course, he always refused to participate, but he was always, always forced to watch.

The fire had reached his thighs, and Potter's cries died down into moans. Third degree burns always hurt worse, then less- not because they did less damage, but because the nerves had been completely obliterated.

Lucius flicked his wand, casting an "Aguamenti," at his entire body. The flames were quenched immediately, but Potter seemed to be going into shock. His teeth were chattering, and he looked very pale. Too pale. He was probably losing his lifeblood at that point, his very being dripping out onto the freshly polished hardwood floor.

The Dark Lord seemed to notice this new development as well. "That is enough," he said. "It does not seem like we will be getting any more reactions from him tonight. Put him back in the dungeons." Severus wondered why he wasn't outright killing the young man. Maybe he was savoring the moment, or maybe- just maybe, he was too cowardly to finish the job. Severus wouldn't put it past him.

Lucius followed the Dark Lord's orders and started levitating the barely conscious Harry Potter into the dungeons. Severus resolved himself, deep within his occlumency lake. He would go get Harry… tonight.

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A few hours later, Severus was still inside Malfoy Manor. He had aparated away when everyone else had, but he had come back to fetch Harry. It didn't matter anymore if he called him 'Harry' or 'Potter' in his mind anymore, because if everything went right that night, he would be in Madam Pomfrey's care by morning. She had been called from her vacation in the continent because of the urgent care some of the Order needed. It wasn't as if they could go to St. Mungo's - there would be too many questions asked.

He was slinking along the edges of the wall, descending down into the dungeons. He greenish light refracted off of his pitch black robes. He was still in Death Eater garb - he hadn't had time to remove it before he had come back to attempt to rescue the Dark Lord's latest victim.

Severus held his wand out in front of him as he came across the first cell. "Homenum revelio," he whispered. That spell was to detect any homo sapiens, AKA humans, in the vicinity. The range of the spell was limited to about 500 meters in each direction.

His wand vibrated, pointing him in a certain direction. It was moving more than it would if only one person were being detected. Severus frowned. Were the Malfoys tormenting him further? He hoped not, for Harry's and their sakes. So help him, if his cover was going to be blown, it would be blown with a bang.

He stalked forward, preparing to cast a stupefy at the person, or persons, in the occupied cell. The door was already opened, and Severus halted at the sight presented to him.

Lucius was kneeling down beside Harry, and it seemed as if he was manually mopping up the blood from both of the young man's hands. He had apparently cast a cooling charm over his legs, numbing them from the burn and reducing the swelling.

Severus shrank back into the shadows as Lucius stood up. He cast a scourgify at the entire room in general, and cast a disillusionment charm over Harry's unconscious body.

What in Salazar's name is he doing? Severus wondered disbelievingly.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Lucius muttered. He guessed that Harry was now floating in the air, levitating in front of the blond man.

Lucius looked to the right and to the left, as if looking for any bystanders. Of course, he saw no one. Severus wasn't called a good spy for no reason.

He tiptoed out of the cell, and Severus shrank into the shadows even further. If I don't move, he won't see me. He had learned that a while ago, back when the Dark Lord had been in full power. If he didn't give anyone anything to look at, then said person probably wouldn't notice him.

Sure enough, Lucius passed Severus without detecting the spy. Severus cast a wordless disillusionment charm over himself as well, following the man silently. He chose not to blast Lucius into smithereens just yet. He would see what in Merlin's beard Lucius was doing with Harry.

He trailed behind the Death Eater into the living room. Lucius glanced around again, and lowered his previously raised wand down onto the couch. There was an invisible weight now pressing into the cushions, which Severus presumed to be Harry.

Lucius cast a lumos in the dark room. Severus could see the beads of sweat forming on the man's brow- he was obviously stressed.

He huffed out a breath, tossing his wand down on a side table. It was still illuminated, casting the room in a ghostly light. His hand reached toward an exquisite bowl of something, but then he hesitated.

What in Salazar's name? he repeated in his mind.

Lucius seemed to determine what his next actions would be. His hand dove into the bowl, pulling out a gray substance. Floo powder! Who on earth was he going to contact at this time of night? Severus thought, bewildered. Is he calling some comrades to torture Harry?

He threw the powder down into the fireplace. Green flames leapt up, and he stuck his head into the hearth. Severus missed what place he had barked into the fire, but soon his head retracted. When you were contacting someone through floo, once you had gotten to the desired location, you could pull your head back and sit normally on the floor. Also, if there was a password needed to get into a place, you didn't need one simply to talk with anyone there.

The name that Lucius uttered shocked Severus to the core.

"Dumbledore…"