Ron always thought that things could not get any worse, and he kept getting proved wrong over and over again.
From thinking that his best friend, practically another brother of his in all ways except blood, had died; to getting captured by Death Eaters; to getting bought like a piece of meat by his worst enemy; to learning said best friend was alive in the worst possible condition; to watching him get tortured... to seeing him being a broken shell.
It was hard to imagine something worse that what he was currently witnessing.
Harry was lost inside his head, completely dissociated. And despite being awake, it was clear that horrible memories and thoughts were invading his mind. Tears kept coursing down, and sometimes he started sobbing out of nowhere or his breathing would pickup without apparent reason. Sometimes his glazed eyes would focus and look around, as if he didn't know where he was or what was happening.
Lupin had already stopped healing him. Harry had started crying when he had tried to lower the blanket below his navel, his eyes lost in his memories, probably not even aware of where he was or why someone was trying to undress him. Besides, the former Professor's magic could only get so far... bruises and wounds still covered the boy.
It was so, so distressing for Ron to see Harry like that. He had never seen his best friend cry, ever. And Merlin knew he had more than enough reasons every school year to do so. Seeing him cry as he was tortured was horrifying, but expected. But seeing him do nothing but, refusing to talk or look at them... the redhead had never felt so heartbroken and lost in his entire life.
"Harry, buddy..." Lupin muttered, trying not to startle him. Harry didn't seem to hear. "Harry?"
The unfocused green eyes widened a little before he turned his head to look at the man.
"Harry, you need to eat something." Lupin said.
"Not hungry." he muttered, his voice raspy.
"At least drink some water, mate." Ron added. Harry simply shook his head.
It bordered on a joke, how back at the Dark Lord's manor he would have done anything for a drop of water and a bite to eat, or for a few minutes of rest... And now that he could get all of those things, his body refused to accept them. He was nauseous and exhausted, depressed, terrified... Why couldn't he just die?
Ron placed the water pouch in front of him, interrupting the sudden thought.
"Please, just a little. You need it."
The pain was the first thing he registered. As usual.
The second was the softness beneath him, alerting him of where he was. The burning pain of the manacle digging into his wrist confirmed his suspicion. He slowly opened his eyes, realizing that one was swollen almost shut, and slowly turned his head to the other side of the bed. His tormentor was there, giving his back to him, reading through a letter and... drinking water from a glass. There was a full jug next to him.
Harry almost started pleading. He was suddenly keenly aware of his dry throat, his cracked and bloodied lips, his tongue feeling like it was covered in ash... He couldn't remember the last time he had drank anything. But he didn't want to draw attention to himself, he was already in too much agony to bear anything else.
He closed his eyes, figuring it was better to try to fall asleep again.
"I know you're awake."
He couldn't help flinching, but he kept his eyes closed. Until he felt the monster moving towards him, leaning closer. His eyes opened in alarm, his free arm raising to futilely cover himself a little. And then he saw that Voldemort was holding the glass of water close to his face, and hope stupidly rose in his chest. Would he be a little merciful?
"Your lips are so dry, my poor little pet. Are you thirsty?"
Without waiting for Harry's answer, Voldemort sank one finger into the water and then drove it to Harry's lower lip, dampening it a little bit. The sensation was more than Harry could bear as his mouth and throat throbbed with longing. His tongue, despite the shame he was feeling, darted out to lick a little at the droplet. His tormentor laughed and repeated the action, this time putting his wet finger on his dry tongue. It was disgusting, but he couldn't help trying to lick at the water.
"Yes, I imagined you would have been, after our morning workout."
The memory made Harry clamp his lips and eyes shut.
"Alright... I guess if you don't want it I'll have to throw it away."
Harry opened his eyes again, and watched dejectedly as the Dark Lord tipped the glass a little and the precious liquid began to trickle down to fall to the floor and soak into the carpet.
"Please..." he squeaked, hoarse and weak. "I n-n-need it, please."
The older man straightened the glass, smiling down at his pet who had desperation written all over his face.
"Beg for it, then."
"Please... please, Master, please."
"I'm not convinced" he taunted, tipping the glass again.
"Please," he sobbed, his free hand raising to try to reach for it. "Just a little. Please, I need it. Please."
"Let's make a little deal." he said, making every hair on Harry's body stand on edge. He instantly regretted ever asking for water. He knew now that his sandpaper throat and urge to get something to drink was nothing compared to how much pain he was about to endure. "If you promise to keep quiet, not even a gasp, for the next hour, I will let you drink the whole glass."
Harry knew he wouldn't be able to comply, but it didn't matter. If the Dark Lord wanted to play, there was absolutely nothing Harry could do to avoid being turned into his favorite plaything.
He did try though. He kept quiet as Voldemort sank his nails into his open injuries and left bloody bite marks on his neck and shoulders. He stifled every sound his body wanted to make as the man pulled out a knife and savagely tore at his skin and flesh. And he even remained quiet as the man rearranged his position so that he was lying on his stomach, and whipped him and beat him with insane strength until not a spot on his body was unharmed.
But then, when the Cruciatus curse invaded him, and went on for longer than his brain could comprehend, the screams erupted without him being able to stop them. And he couldn't stop as the monster cast it again and again and again and again.
He only stopped when Harry lost his voice.
"That's too bad, my pet. You lost."
Harry was still lying on his stomach, one hand still tied to the bedpost, the other one magically pinned to the bed, so the only thing we could do was cry as his body shuddered with the aftereffects of the curse.
And he couldn't even beg as he watched the monster drink the rest of the water, and then climb on top of him to continue playing with him.
"Harry..." both Lupin and Ron sighed.
The boy was staring at the water pouch with the most heartbreaking mixture of longing and terror, and his flow of tears had once again intensified.
"Maybe it will help if you talk about it?" The former Professor offered. "Is there a reason why you don't want the water?"
Harry swallowed and shakily reached for the pouch, mulling it over. It's not like both of them hadn't seen live how Voldemort and his friends liked to torture him... but talking about it was terrifying.
He drank the water slowly and then gave it back to Ron.
"W-whenever he offered... anything... to me... he would torture me."
"But you're safe now. We wouldn't hurt you, ever." Ron said, an edge of desperation to his voice.
Harry closed his eyes. How could he explain the terror that had become part of his flesh and blood?
"I know, but..." he started. "I can't help it."
"We understand." Lupin said, softly. "What were you remembering, just now? Do you want to tell us?"
Harry swallowed uneasily. No, he didn't. He wanted to push the memory away. He did not want to relieve that, did not want to remember or talk about it... But he complied anyways. There was very little energy inside of him to refuse anything at all.
"H-he forced me to beg for it. And then, when I did... he s-said he would only let me drink if I... if I didn't make any sounds. And then he tortured me... eventually I couldn't help it. I screamed." he swallowed hard, trying to stop his tears, but the memory was too horrible. "It's not even the worse they ever did whenever they knew I needed something."
"Harry, that is truly awful. I'm sorry you had to go through it. I really am, but you're not there anymore." Rob said.
"I don't know how to convince my brain of that." Harry said, softly, his voice breaking.
"Well... it will take some time." Lupin offered. "But you'll get there. We'll help you."
"Yeah, mate, can't be harder than passing the Potion's owls, right?" Ron said, attempting to lighten the mood.
It worked. Harry cracked a small smile and a breathy chuckle escaped him, and it opened the door for Ron to continue joking. He began to tell Lupin all the funny anecdotes of how he and Harry had attempted to cheat, how Hermione would berate him, how they would bet who would get the highest grade or come up with the most creative way to piss Snape off...
Against all odds, the late afternoon found them laughing. Harry didn't talk much, and he laughed softly and breathlessly as his ribs and throat still hurt, but it was such a welcome respite... Most of the memories Ron was mentioning he didn't even remember despite his efforts of clinging to them during his time with the Death Eaters, and it was a nice change. It did help, more than Ron could ever know.
Harry did agree to drink even more water, and eat some more food while they talked.
Ron fought hard against the tears and the lump in his throat,
Snape walked decisively down the stone path that led to the dungeons, ignoring the barely-alive people inside the cells. Below his cape, one of his hands clutched the one, the other one an empty potion's vial. His heart was hammering in his chest, his stomach queasy, but his mind set.
He stopped in front of one of the cells. The figure inside only moved her head to look at him, but didn't move otherwise.
"How you managed to get yourself caught is beyond me." Snape said. "I thought you were the most intelligent of the Order."
She remained silent, and Snape knelt down, trying to assess the damage that had been inflicted on her. To his surprise, despite looking tired and disheveled, he couldn't see any injuries. McGonagall sat there, glaring silently at him with the regal presence only she could conjure.
He pulled the vial out.
"I brought you a potion to relive the pain."
"I'm not in pain." she bit back, glaring at him. "Unless that's what you've come to do - torture me. Figured it would come sooner than later."
Snape reached through the bars to hand her the vial.
"Come on, just take it."
"Why would I take anything you offer, you miserable traitor?"
Snape swallowed, not used to McGonagall talking like this. He supposed the past six months had been transformative for everyone.
"I'm trying to help you."
He stared directly into her eyes.
And Minerva could see the very small, very slight shadow of the boy she had taught back at Hogwarts so many years in the past.
She hesitantly leaned forward, her arm outstretched, as her fingers closed on the neck of the vial.
And in the next second, both Professors disappeared from the dungeon.