Disclaimer: In chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed. I think this chapter will answer a few of your questions. If you are confused about anything that I write, ask me in a review and I will either a) try to answer it in the story or b) explain it in an Authors Note.

This chapter has mild violence in it, and I tried to keep it so I wouldn't have to raise the rating, but if you think it's too much for a PG13 story, let me know and I'll change it.

Enjoy.

-

Barely There

Hermione Granger held the mug of hot chocolate between her trembling hands. The blizzard outside prevented her from doing anything but staying inside the tiny cabin with the other survivors, and it made her angry not to be able to occupy her time. It had been a few months since they had to flee from Hogwarts, and had been that same amount of time since anyone had seen Harry alive. If he was still alive. . . .

Nothing was certain, and no one knew for sure whether a rescue maneuver was worth it. But nothing could be attempted until the weather improved. They had to wait for a few more months before they could return to the castle.

Hermione brought the steaming mug to her lips, and heard the distant groan of the roof sagging under the weight of the snow. Sleet lashed at the windows of the kitchen she was sitting in, and the many cracks in the cabin allowed the icy wind to penetrate into their hide-out. For this reason, the fire always stayed burning and the inhabitants always stayed bundled under layers of jackets.

Dumbledore had told them that Voldemort wouldn't kill Harry, that he would first demonstrate his power by punishing the Boy Who Lived. Hermione had sobbed at the thought. She couldn't imagine what Harry was going through. . . he had been so brave when Voldemort had entered the castle. . . .

-

They had just settled down for the Beginning of the Year Feast. The Sorting had just ended, and Dumbledore was due to give his annual speech. Harry had been rather quiet on the train ride, and Hermione saw that he was lost in thought now, gazing at the head table. But then she saw him cringe in pain and clasp his hands to his forehead. He turned and gave her a terrified glance that chilled her insides.

The Hall doors burst open, and screams filled the air. Wave after wave of hooded Death Eaters filled into the hall, some seizing teachers, others seizing students. Harry drew his wand, and Hermione and Ron followed his lead. Then, robes billowing, a figure appeared in the doorway. Hermione saw Harry gasping in pain, one hand still on his scar, but also saw the determined look in his eye. He kept his wand raised though five other wands were pointed at his own heart. A deathly silence swept over the hall as every one of the students turned to the newest arrival.

Lord Voldemort emerged from the shadows. He had his wand raised in the direction of Dumbledore, and moved swiftly to the front of the room.

"This is the end of Hogwarts," his icy voice hissed to the hall. "Those who wish to join me do so now, and the slaughter can begin."

There had been a moment that seemed like an eternity when the entire hall was still. And then, a chair scraped.

Every head turned to the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy had just stood up. The 6th year Slytherin Prefect strode to the front of the room, proudly. Hermione watched Dumbledore's expression as the student stopped next to Voldemort. She saw the tiniest movement in Dumbledore's face, and he seemed to motion to someone. Next moment, Professor Snape strode around the table to join Voldemort as well. The Hall was soon filled with movement and students joined the growing group of people standing beside Voldemort. Hermione was proud to see that no one from the Gryffindor Table had moved a muscle, but instead had remained with their wands raised.

Voldemort's eyes locked on Harry, and Hermione saw the glint of anger in Harry's eyes as he forced himself to look the Dark Lord in the face.

Voldemort's lip curled. "Kill them," he said simply.

"NO!"

Hermione tried to stop him, but Harry sprinted to the front of the room, stopping facing Voldemort.

"You can take me. Instead of the rest of the school. I'll let you do with me as you wish."

A sob escaped Hermione's lips, and Ron's hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"You know as well as I do that some of these students here could kill a large portion of your army," Harry continued. "If you let them go, none of these Death Eaters will be hurt. But you'll still have me. I am what you've been wanting these long years, aren't I, Tom?"

There was a moment where red eyes looked into green, and Voldemort seemed to make his decision.

"Get your mudblood filth out of here, Dumbledore, before I change my mind," Voldemort said. Dumbledore rose, and spoke to the school.

"Keep your wands lowered. You will follow me out of the school. Do not go back to your house common rooms for any reason."

Slowly, trembling, Hermione let her wand hand fall to her side. Her body was in shock as she watched Harry throw his wand to the Dark Lord's feet. Voldemort raised his wand and put it against Harry's forehead.

"Crucio!"

The agonizing screams followed Hermione out of the hall as they left the warmth of the school that had been their home for the past five years.

-

A hand on Hermione's shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. Looking up, she saw the weary face of her red-headed best friend.

"Hi, Ron," she said quietly.

"Dumbledore's just sent a message," he said, pulling out a chair to sit on.

Hermione stopped in the process of bringing the mug to her lips again and looked at Ron.

"He says Snape contacted him just now. Harry's still alive," the boy said, watching as a flicker of hope ignited in Hermione's eyes.

"How does he know?" she whispered, shocked.

Here, the redhead faltered and looked away. "They. . . erm. . . they brought Harry in front of the school at dinner. . . to torture him. Snape says he was in a bad shape. . . ."

There was a crash as Hermione's hot chocolate slipped from her fingers and the porcelain shattered on the floor. She took no notice of the mess as fresh tears slid down her face. Ron put an arm around her to comfort her, but his own eyes were watery.

"We shouldn't have let him do that," she said after a while.

"We couldn't have done anything. Harry sacrificed himself to save us all. He saved hundreds of lives."

Hermione understood, but she wished it had turned out differently. He had looked so scared when his scar had burned. "He doesn't deserve this, Ron," she sobbed.

"I know he doesn't," Ron said, squeezing Hermione's shoulders. "No one does."

-

Harry groaned as someone grabbed him roughly by the arms and lifted him to his feet. He had a horrible throbbing headache. The person lifted his arms above his head and used the rope binding them together to hang Harry on an iron hook above his head that had been put in the wall for the purpose of keeping him standing. His muscles still burned from the most recent punishment, though he wasn't sure how long ago that had been. He knew he had been unconscious, but he didn't know for how long. All that he knew was that he hadn't wanted to wake up from his dreams. Death was better than this hell.

He opened his eyes wearily and saw several Death Eaters moving around excitedly. His arms were already beginning to protest from being kept above his head like that.

Great, Harry thought, closing his eyes again, another beating. . . .

It had become a ritual for Death Eaters to come down here to release their rage on the thin frame of the 16 year old boy. Some used belts to lash his sides, others used leather whips with metal spikes on the end, and others used their hands and feet. They had broken his ribs long ago when one of them had decided to use him as a punching bag.

There was one rule set for his beatings. Harry wasn't allowed to cry out. If he did, the torture would continue for longer. The Death Eaters could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn't kill him. They would never let him just die.

And so it began, each lash of the belt opening another wound on his bruised body, Harry only allowing one whimper to escape his parched lips. It went on for an hour or so when the Death Eater abandoned the belt and his fist connected with Harry's stomach. A few minutes later, Harry was lifted from the hook and he fell to the ground. The dungeon door slammed, and Harry allowed the tears to fall now. He had no way to nurse his wounds, and many of the previous cuts had become infected, reopening with the recent lashes. Not that he could feel much of them, however. His arms were numb from lack of blood flow.

The best he could do was try to survive. He thought of his two best friends, and knowing they were safe, and remembering the reason he had done this in the first place, closed his eyes, a tear trembling on his eyelashes.

-

The creaky dungeon door opened, and Harry gently lifted his head from the grimy stone floor. He heard a voice barely above a whisper mutter, "Stupefy!" and the Death Eater standing guard fell to the ground with a dull thud. A second Death Eater entered Harry's dungeon. He recognized that prowling walk; there was no mistaking it.

"Snape?" he asked wearily.

His old Potions professor lowered his hood to reveal his pasty, white skin and greasy hair. "I don't have long," was all that he replied. "Open your mouth." Harry complied. Snape peered into Harry's mouth, examining his gums.

The Potions Master dug in his robes for something and produced a small vile.

"You're dehydrated, Potter. Drink this." He thrust the vile into Harry's hands. Without a moment of hesitation, Harry brought the liquid to his parched lips, swallowing it hurriedly. He felt slightly better.

"Thank you," he said creakily as he handed the vile back to the professor.

Snape didn't respond, and instead started healing the cuts up and down Harry's arms.

"I have a few broken ribs," Harry said.

"There's nothing I can do about that now. I don't have that kind of healing ability." He stopped and looked at Harry. "Dumbledore knows you're alive, I alerted him a few nights ago when the Dark Lord brought you before the school."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to this.

"I have to leave. I have a cover to maintain." Again, he dug into his robes. He pulled out some meat and fresh bread. "Make this last as long as you can. I don't know when I'll be able to come back here again."

Without another word, he left the food in Harry's lap and swept from the hall, closing the door. Harry heard two distant spells being muttered ("Enervate!" and "Obliviate!") and then silence. He tucked the food away in one of his pockets, and allowed his body and brain to rest. He didn't bother to consider what had just happened and why Snape had suddenly decided to care about Harry's well-being. The man had hated Harry from the first moment their eyes had met!

Knowing that Dumbledore had probably told Ron and Hermione that he was still alive, Harry tried to keep his mind on happy thoughts. He thought about when he would see his friends again. He tried to imagine Hermione's smile, Ron's laugh, but already those images were fading from his mind only to be replaced by merciless red eyes and a high, cold laugh.

He pulled out a small piece of the bread in his pocket and put it on his tongue, allowing it to dissolve slowly in his mouth, savoring the taste.

How long could he survive like this?

-

A/N: I'm keeping the chapters rather short so I can update frequently. If you would prefer me to write longer chapters that will only appear maybe once a week, let me know. Thanks again for the reviews.