Chapter 35:

The devil's game:

Snape realized very fast that he had absolutely no notionof where he was. He was also rather certain that he had never been in these dungeons before. They seemed to be fairly used, however, if the occasional hoarse cries of agony, which echoed from somewhere down the corridors were any indication.

As Severus fought to remain walking along the corridor, he crossed stone doors that were like the one that built the entrance to his cell.These corridors were narrow, dark and theysmelled of years of decay. The ground was relatively even, but in certain places the walls looked so irregular, as if they had been hammered out of a massive rock.

Severus followed the slightly wider and better lit corridor, which had been running aside his cell and ignored the dark passages, which occasionally diagonally crossed the main passageway. He didn't have much of anidea where he was going, but he mobilized all his remaining strength to move away from the weaker growing cries behind him. He assumed that the corridor must be somewhere underground, for there was not a window anywhere and only sporadic torches dipped the walls into trembling plays of shade and light. As fast as possible, he headed along the main corridor, which led upwards in a steady gradient. He had to put as much distance as possible behind him, before anyone would notice his escape. If that happened before he was out of here, then he would be trapped in this maze of corridors and they could easily block any exit and recapture him, hunting him down like a bloody rat.

If only his body would not hurt so much and his thirst and weakness would not make him sway so precariously.

Severus could already feel lucky to hold himself upright to some extent, even if he was only able to advance slowly and with staggering steps, as his strength seemed to continually seep out of him.

The corridors themselves seemed to be deserted, since the Death Eaters were probably busy torturing the poor, screaming soul further back. Whether it was luck or coincidence, or only the fact that it was meal time according to Goyle's statement, Severus didn't know. He couldn't care less anyway. His main goal was to get out of here and at the moment it looked like his chances were not as totally bad as he had first expected them to be. If his luck held on, then he may perhaps even make it back to Hogwarts.

A strengthening, euphoric feeling overcame him, despite the pitiful condition in which he was in. He would show it to those Gryffindors and would thoroughly spoil their fun and squash their desire to throw a party. That his torture was celebrated by them, was thereby not even the worst, this house had done to him. Since the first day, on which he had set foot on Hogwarts, certain Gryffindors had made it their goal to make his life miserable and try to get the better of him. But he had survived nevertheless and he would be back to make their life and potions class a living hell again. Potter's and Black's house had never been nice to him and he was ready to return the favour hundred times worse. Oh yes. Those stupid imbeciles of students could prepare for so many detentions and deducted points that every prospect to party would be stuffed down their throats.

He had Albus' friendship and the respect of the Slytherins and most teachers. Those were the only persons he regarded as important anyway. For the rest – he was content enough not to let them get too close to him as it was.

Severus Snape would not be made fun of and he would be the last one laughing.

As he thought about future classes and possible punishments, a content smirk crept upon his face and it didn't even bother him as his cracked lips' skin broke once more, making it sting painfully again.

The corridor shifted into an upwards slope and Severus did his best to calm his racing heart. The weakness and the pain in his body were pushed into the background, as the excitement of the proximity of near liberty drove the adrenalin into his blood. All his efforts to suppress the growing excitement and hope were brought to naught, however, when he saw the corridor become wider and brighter. After another bend, a wall of bright daylight only twenty metres in front of him came into view.His excitement activated his last reserves, and he accelerated his staggering steps towards liberty.

He stepped into the light and had to shut his eyes momentarily against the brightness, which seemed to burn itself into his retina. Carefully, he blinked and pried his eyes open into narrow slits. Gradually, his eyes accustomed to the light and he then realized that the sun did not shine at all but hid behind a cover of grey clouds. Nevertheless, everything seemed bright to him and it felt marvellous, as if he were seeing the sun after months full of rain. His first impulse was to laugh out loud, but he knew that he was not in security yet. He had to be careful to not run into a possible guard, of which there would undoubtedly be some here, guarding this place

He could - under normal circumstances -easily creep by the guards without being discovered. He was cunning enough for that. The problem would rather consist of getting his body to cooperate. As it looked right now, he was hardly able to keep upright without the wall behind himself for support.And that was now, with his adrenalin still on high. When the first excitement over his sudden escape dimmed, his body would pay the price for the momentary energy burst. Up to then he had to be gone from here.

Severus took a closer look around. The entrance to the dungeons, in which he had spent the last few days, was actually a cave at the foot of a steep quarry. Where this quarry was, he was not able to say, but it wasn't important anyhow.

As soon as he was outside of the Apparation barrier, which Voldemort logically placed around each of the dungeons, and if his body was still playing along, he would be able to Apparate into Hogsmeade and into security.

He inhaled deeply and concentrated to pry himself from the wall and to make some steps onto the rubble-loaded plateau, away from the entrance of the cave. He needed his complete concentration and will power, in order to suppress the trembling of his legs and the dizziness in its head.

Determined, he grit his teeth, not ready to give up so close to his goal. He would get back to Hogwarts. Back to the castle, which had always been the only place he dared to call home. Back to Albus and to his Slytherins.

A sudden mocking laughter rang out behind him. His heart missed a beat and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"The way you look, you aren't even going to make it ten metres on your own, not to speak about escape."

He whirled around, a devastating shock numbing all his thoughts.

A short distance besides himself, close to the wall of the quarry, stood Malfoy and Nott, a sadistic smile spread on their faces. On their side was a broadly grinning Crabbe and a fidgeting, somewhat stupid looking Goyle.

Severus saw the scene, but his consciousness did not quite process it, although he instinctively correctly evaluated the situation. Yet his brain forcefully fought to accept the truth because it was simply too terribly degrading and unfair.

"I have just lost a bet with Nott, because of you, Severus. I would never have thought that you would come that far at all if we left you the possibility for escape," Lucius said coolly.

And then, suddenly, everything made painful sense. The departure of Goyle, the cell door left open, the loosely sitting handcuffs, everything had been done intentionally. A further bloody game of Malfoy's. And he had, blindly and naively, stepped into the trap.

And then, for the first time, the knowledge really crashed down on him. There was no getting out of here.

Regardless that he had never been a man who floated in fantasies, somehow the small flicker of hope had held itself in his heart, to somehow survive the torture. Although he had always known that this place and Malfoy would be his death, his sub consciousness had, in a steadfastness like only human self-preservation could do, clung to the fact that there was still hope as long as his heart beat. Up to now he had still been able to hold back the hopelessness, but now it crashed down upon him with the violence of a tidal wave.

Under the force of the new feeling he began to tremble. "No, no, no," he whispered, without even being aware of his denial. Everything all of a sudden just appeared so futile and hopeless and he debated with himself for one moment, whether he should laugh or cry, but then went for an all-denying shake of his head.

"Bring him back to his cell," Malfoy instructed indifferently and Crabbe and Goyle moved towards him with such a relaxation, it was as if they'd been sent to collect firewood.

But when they reached for its upper arms, life came into Severus again. This was the last time that he would see the free sky. The moment that he would be back in the hole of a dungeon, he would already be buried alive. And with that thought and a momentum of desperate panic, he started to fight the grasp of the two Death Eaters, striking at them in blind panic.

His actions were instinctive, panicked and all but controlled, but his two guards were momentarily startled, and Severus managed to hit Crabbe violently into his nose. The Death Eater howled in pain and brought his two hands to its face, covering the hurting place. Goyle too, loosened his grip in surprise and Severus staggered a few steps back with his arms raised in front of his chest, heaving heavily and watching his two aggressors with wild eyes.

Malfoy did not seem to be very pleased over his resistance, even if he did sound rather impatient than worried. "Crabbe, Goyle, you idiots. Don't tell me that you are afraid of him. Snape looks like a frightened rabbit and at the moment he is approximately just as dangerous. Seize him. NOW!"

The two hesitated only a second more, before they threw themselves at the potions master with a cry of rage and pushed him off his legs by their sheer weight.

Severus felt the collision a fraction of a second before he lost his orientation and equilibrium and hit the stone ground hard with his back. A sound of pain and surprise formed in his throat, but the force of the impact drove all air from his lungs, so that only a surprised gasp came over its lips and his vision blurred for one moment.

When his view cleared again, he was still laying on the ground, looking up at the sky above with its mockingly peaceful moving clouds. Crabbe and Goyle lay on his torso and his legs, which made it impossible to move a little more then one millimetre.

Severus tried to collect himself and then, suddenly Malfoy towered over him, his frame absurdly pulled into length from Severus' perspective at Lucius' feet.

The blond Death Eater looked arrogantly down at him, his left eyebrow arched disapprovingly. He pulled his wand from his robe and pointed it at Severus' face.

"That wasn't a very smart thing to do, Severus. You do know that I have to punish you for your fight and attempted escape, don't you?"

Severus' senses where somewhat back; his panic attack from before was expired together with his strength and now only fury, disappointment and hopelessness mixed together and he started anew to struggle against the weight on his chest, which made it so hard to respire.

"Hold him down," came Malfoy's barked instruction and the body over Severus' chest grew even heavier as the big Death Eater adjusted his weight, making it definitely impossible to breathe now. Severus panted for air, while the panic to suffocate slowly crept up on him.

The pointed end of a wand, which bored itself into the skin of his forehead, diverted him momentarily from his oxygen-problem and he could make out the upper shaft of the wooden instrument in the hand of Lucius.

"Stupefy!"

Up until seven years ago, Harry had never even heard of a sport called Quidditch. Six years ago, he had become the youngest seeker in over one hundred years ago. Five years ago, when Draco Malfoy, his biggest rival in school, had become the seeker of Slytherin, Quidditch had mutated into nothing else but a game about prestige between the two houses. Here they could carry out their open rivalry relatively open, only submitted to the rules of the game.

But the severity and determination, which had been shown up to recently in the plays between the two houses, were nothing compared to what went off this year on the playing field. The enmity between the houses had grown into a full fledged hatred, since the story with Snape. Harry himself was convinced that the thing with their former head of househad simply been the straw that broke the camel's back and sped up everything. Sooner or later, especially with Voldemort's resurrection, the tension would have grown to such an extent that an explosion would have been unavoidable anyhow.

For Harry, however, the Slytherin's behaviour only made it harder to live with his mistake.

With a sigh it tore himself from his thoughts and focussed his attention back to the game underneath his broom. On a broom, in the middle of the air, with Bludgers flying around your head, it was definitely a bad timing to let ones thoughts roam.

He watched how Ron prevented the opposing team to score with a risky looking manoeuvre on his broom. Ron was the keeper of Gryffindor for a bit more than a year now, since Woods had graduated from school after their fourth year. Ron wasn't such a natural with the broom as Harry was, but what he was missing out on talent, he compensated with will and hard work and since he had been training with Harry last summer, he had become a more than passable player. Although he never stopped to complain about the tenacious trainings schedule, Ron was always the first on the Quidditch field and the last one to leave it again.

Harry looked out for Malfoy and spotted him somewhere above him in the air, scanning the playing field for the snitch with narrowed eyes. Harry also observed the field under him, but couldn't make out the small, golden - winged ball.

Suddenly Draco gasped out loud and a silvery-green flash shot passed Harry, knocking against him sharply in the process. Harry lost his equilibrium and needed a good moment to bring the buckling broom back under control. Malfoy had banged into him intentionally, and not for the first time today. The blond Slytherin dove towards the soil like a madman and Harry tore his Firestar around to follow. Malfoy must have sighted the Snitch and Harry would be dammed if he'd simply to lean back and let the other team have the victory.

Soon, they both raced, side by side along the lower tribune. Harry too, had now sighted the Snitch, which flew in a wild zigzag across the game field and the Gryffindor began the chase in earnest now. He wanted this victory. He was a better flyer than Malfoyon the other hand, the Slytherin was ruthless and didn't shy away from fighting unfairly. Harry was distantly aware of the cheers and encouragements of the two teams and the spectators, and from experience he assumed every pair of eyes upon them. Harry did his best to melt his body against the broomstick and slowly, he won ground and even pushed past Malfoy. He evaded being hit just in time, as Malfoy yanked his own broom to the side, to knock him off his own. Harry, however, didn't let himself be distracted and let go of his broom with his right hand to reach for the winged Snitch, which flew just in front of him now.

Without losing any speed, he leaned forwards and already were his fingers touching the fluttering wings, when an enormous pain cursed through his scar like a flash of lightning.

Harry scarcely noticed that he lost control of the broom before his body already hit solid ground in an explosion of pain and everything turned black around him.

He found himself in a clearing, directly beside a group of euphemistic people, their faces hidden by masks.

Harry instinctively cringed back, but the Death Eaters did not seem to notice him at all. This fact and the stinging pain of his scar told Harry that he wasn't really here at all and only had a vision again.

Now he also noticed a whimpering noise just before him and he saw a trembling, sobbing Pettigrew, who writhed on the leaf-covered ground, a trace of saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. The threatening shape of Voldemort towered over him, his wand pointed at the smaller man.

The Dark Lord appeared to be quite furious. His lips were pulled back menacingly and his inhumane red eyes seemed to glow in his wrath.

Voldemort lifted the curse, but Pettigrew remained on the ground, whimpering softly. The Dark Wizard ignored him and addressed the other Death Eaters. "Does anybody else have such great news for me?The Dementors have been important for me, just where they were. Dumbledore, with his renewed interference, cost me the last possibility to get all my former servants out of Azkaban."

He searched the lines of his men with his eyes, but nobody spoke up. Voldemort made a sound that sounded vaguely like a growl.

"Malfoy!" he hissed.

One of the hooded figures separated from the rest and stepped over the body of Pettigrew without giving him as much as a sideways glance, before he kneeled down in front of Voldemort, lowering his head respectfully.

"Take off your mask and get up, Lucius," the Dark Lord ordered.

Malfoy obeyed, still maintaining a slightly submissive appearance, yet looking his master square in the eyes.

"I do hope that you have better news for me, Lucius? How is your little project proceeding?"

"Everything goes according to plan, Master. The second stage has successfully been reached. He is weakened enough to be sensitive for manipulations now."

Harry became curious. He didn't know what Malfoy senior spoke about but he had the distinguished feeling that it was something of importance.

"I will not tolerate any more failures, Malfoy," Voldemort said in a low, pressed voice. "I want to see the traitor broken and pleading at my feet. I will not tolerate that any of my men turn away from me and betray my trust. Severus is mine, with body and soul and I want him to realize that. Only then will he get the mercy of death."

Harry inhaled sharply. Severus? Voldemort couldn't mean Severus Snape Snape was dead. Harry had seen it himself. But then again was Severus not a very common name.…

"My Lord. It will be as you wish. But to break him is not easy and needs time. He knows the ways and purposes of torture much too well. He put it into his head to die with his will intact, and you can say about him what you want, but he is stubborn. It needs quite some convincing measures to break a man such as him. But I have until now gotten every one at my feet and I know how Severus Snape thinks and how I can reach him. I will not disappoint you."

Harry gasped horrified. Malfoy had said Severus Snape.

Snape was alive.

An immense relieve overcame him. At the moment it wasn't important how Snape could have survived a slit throat or that he was apparently being tortured. He was not dead, which meant that there was still a chance to save the potions master and wash himself from his terrible guilt.

Voldemort's face twisted into a malicious smirk. "I have somehow the impression that you enjoy your task more than just a little, Lucius."

The silver-blond man only smirked in answer.

Before Harry had a chance to grimace in disgust and shock, the scene disappeared again in the dark.

When he opened his eyes once more, his whole body and especially his left arm throbbing dully, he found the white ceiling of the hospital wing in his line of vision and a very worried Headmaster who was looking down at him.

T.B.C.

Thanks to my Betareader Slytherin's silver snake and SadistraJ