Chapter Four: Strangers

I had never been so aware of the fullness of time. It was starting to seem likely that my uncle changed his mind on allowing me to simply starve to death, as I was convinced several weeks had passed rather than just one. With no clock and no windows, it was impossible to say where one day ended and a new one began. I existed in singular stretch of time with no open or close. A ceaseless day, a forever night. I thought it would not end, and I found myself admitting that death may be a welcome friend in the solitude.

Contrary to Arawn's sinister optimism, I stayed firm in my stance. Nothing could make me agree to become one of Voldemort's followers. Not even driving me within inches of madness. It was lucky that I had trained my body to survive on meager amounts of food and water, as it was clear I would have to make the half-filled water bucket and box of food (which, it turned out, contained only a half dozen apples and two boxes of saltine crackers) last for the duration. I was thankful that the candles had been magically altered to stay permanently ablaze. The only thing that could have driven me crazier was complete darkness.

What gnawed at me more than the hunger, thirst, and relentless heat was the isolation and a rather perpetual feeling of boredom that made my head spin. I even found myself missing Snyde and Fellwood; at least they had provided me with some form of human contact.

I spent much of my time laying on the cot, studying the ceiling as though some solution were hidden within its fissures, and ruminating on the blind belief that Snape would come for me (which I had made quite the bad habit of daydreaming about – Snape, breaking away from Voldemort and coming to my rescue, a dark knight among the shadows… Merlin, I was hopeless). That is, assuming he was even aware I had been captured. Was that the kind of thing Death Eaters chatted about? Did they hold secret, weekly, Death Eater get-togethers to check in with one another? In my mind's eye manifested the image of a sullen-looking group of witches and wizards, cloaked, hooded, and gathered around a medieval dining table exchanging gossip about who they happened to have imprisoned that week while they poked at heapings of apple tart.

I was smiling involuntarily at the thought when I heard a door groan open in the distance. At first I disregarded it as a hallucination, the product of my Death-Eater-dinner-fantasy coming to life. Surely the last of my remaining brain cells had dried up and withered away. After all, nothing ever happened in here. Nothing ever changed. And when Arawn spoke my name in his throaty baritone, I had to scratch my head and rub at my ears.

"Niece!" he shouted, voice impatient as though he'd been calling me several times. I jerked at the sound, pulling myself up to find my uncle swinging open the metal bars and bounding into the room. Before I could comprehend what was happening, he grabbed me hard by the wrist and yanked me out of the bed, through the doorway, and down the hall.

"What's happening?" I croaked, mouth completely dry. My throat felt as though it were made of sandpaper when I tried to clear it.

Arawn ignored my question, dragging me around a corner and up a flight of concrete stairs. I had to shield my stinging eyes when we exited the door at the top into a room that was violently bright. He pulled me several steps further before shoving me to my knees as the daylight assaulted me.

The floorboards were weathered and wooden. That was the first detail that I could make out. I sat back on my heels, squinting. Slowly, shapes began to take form as my eyes adjusted. A massive oak table was to my left, encircled by at least eight matching chairs and situated atop a battered, faded Transylvanian rug that was unraveling at the corners. I opened my eyes a little further as my uncle thrust something into my hands.

It was cold. Metal.

A cup of water. I downed it in three desperate gulps and the grit in my mouth washed away. Instantly, I felt a sharp pain below my ribs. Stupid. I knew to pace myself, but I had never felt a thirst like this one before.

I looked up at Arawn, disoriented but able to see, and only then did I notice another person in the room. It was a strange girl, maybe a few years older than me, with tangled hair an identical color to my own but with none of the glossy copper shine. Her hollowed cheeks were a sickly-looking shade of gray; her eyes a cloudy, muted green. The grimy fuchsia t-shirt she wore was about three sizes too large, hanging loosely on her thin, almost skeletal frame. She clasped a silver cup in her boney, ashen hands.

The aluminum in my own grip fell to the floor with a resonant clang. The girl's did the same… because she was me, reflected in a tall, ornate mirror that occupied half of the space on the wall behind my uncle. Dusty sunbeams flooded in through equally tall windows on either side, casting me and the girl in the mirror in a ray that seemed to illuminate our skin so that it was almost translucent, turning the map of blue veins striking against the pallor.

"Well, niece," my uncle said as I pored over my reflection. "I hope you have had some worthwhile time with your thoughts. Have you considered my offer?"

I blinked at the girl in the mirror, who now had tears streaming from both eyes, waiting for her answer. She was so fragile. Broken. Crumbling. Weak. "No," I said flatly.

"'No?'" he repeated sourly. "What does that mean, 'no?'"

I lingered on the reflection for another breath, then pulled my gaze away forcefully. Gaining some nerve, I demanded myself to stand and meet his eyes. "It means no. It means go ahead and kill me, because I will never change my mind. You can starve me, and isolate me, and torture me until I'm mad. My answer will not change. I'm halfway there already," I said, gesturing to the girl in the mirror, "so go on and finish the job."

"FOOL! Are you too stubborn to value your own life!?" he fumed, stepping threateningly close to me. "You should be grateful for the chance I have given you; thanking me for sparing your life! Your ignorance will be your end!"

"I don't care anymore! Let it be my end!" I said, half sobbing.

"That will not be necessary, Miss Pierce. Not yet, anyway," said a low voice from somewhere in the room, and the entirety of everything skidded to an abrupt halt. The mere sound had the power to make time stop moving; to catch my breath in my throat; to turn my blood to ice in my veins. He spoke again. "Step away, Travers."

Arawn's temper disintegrated at the command. My uncle obeyed, taking a few steps backwards, and he came into view. The familiarity of him was like a warm ray of sun on a cold winter day. I knew his every feature, from the way his long ebony hair framed boundlessly dark eyes, to the way his knee-length coat, neatly fastened down his middle with a length of too-many buttons, swept around his legs as he strode in an effortless way that was both powerful and beautiful.

"Severus…" I whispered on an exhale, but it was so hushed I doubted either of them heard. Meanwhile, riotous thoughts pounded at my skull from the inside: 'I'm saved. He came, I knew he would come. He'll get me out of here, I'm saved. I'm not going to die. I'M SAVED.' The effort it took to restrain myself from running into his arms was physically painful.

"Snape. You are late," said Arawn, though not disrespectfully. It was clear that Snape outranked him in some way.

"Other obligations took precedence over the girl," he said as he approached, still not acknowledging my presence. I, on the other hand, was trembling at his closeness.

Arawn huffed. "What does the Dark Lord want with her, anyway? She is of no use to me any longer."

"It just so happens that this girl you have been so adamant about apprehending - your niece - is rather close friends with Harry Potter," said Snape, carefully enunciating each syllable of Harry's name. Arawn stiffened, looking to me, then back to Snape. "All of this time, instead of keeping her as your pet, you should have been attempting to elicit any pertinent information she may have regarding his whereabouts."

At last, the immeasurably deep eyes met mine, taking in my bedraggled appearance. What must he think of me now, the once forceful, self-assured, dynamic girl now standing before him perfectly shattered, an illusion of her former self? The unbreakable, now so wholly broken.

I waited as he considered me, unblinking, his expression glazed and impassive. He could have just as easily been looking at a complete stranger. Although who could blame him, when even I had thought the girl in the mirror was a stranger.

The two men closed in on me and I had to remind myself to breathe. I was as stuck in place as a statue. "Miss Pierce," said Snape, tilting his chin down slightly. "I would suggest you cooperate in offering any information you are able pertaining to Mr. Potter. The consequences for defiance will be… severe."

"What…" I breathed, a piece of my soul withering. He was so near to me that his crisp and cool scent permeated every inhale, but he may as well have been as far away from me as the moon. No words occurred to me. He'd come to save me, hadn't he? He would never hurt me. He couldn't.

For a flash we were back on the Astronomy Tower, standing side by side in the night. "They will not hurt you again. I will make sure of that," he had said after saving me from Goyle's attempt to throw me off the side of the tower.

"And if they try?" I'd argued, having felt certain that the rivalry between Goyle and myself was far from over.

"Then I will protect you," he had promised without a trace of insincerity as the clean midnight air wrapped around us. I had felt so safe… trusting him in a way that I'd never trusted anyone before.

I wrenched myself back from the memory and urged myself to formulate a response. Maybe this was all just an elaborate trick to get me away from Arawn so he could help me escape. It had to be – but of course he would never actually allow me to be harmed in any way.

"I… I don't know anything," I stammered. My earlier resolve had totally deflated, popping out of me more quickly than air from a needle-struck balloon. "Honestly… I haven't heard from Harry in weeks."

"Liar!" Arawn accused, stabbing his wand at my temple. "Maybe some motivation?" His mouth was stretched wide in a wicked grin, as though excited by whatever his idea of "motivation" may have been.

"Now, now," said Snape musingly, holding up a hand towards Arawn. "Give her a chance to think a little harder. I'm positive there must be some information that would be of value." His tone suggested I was walking a fine line.

I met his obsidian gaze, looking for a silent signal… for any indication of his plan… but he remained blank. "Please, you have to believe me. The last letter I got from Harry was at the beginning of the summer, and he was just checking on me. He didn't share anything about where he was or what he was doing. I swear it!" I drove as much sincerity as I could into my words. It was the truth, although I would have lied without hesitation if I had known anything about Harry.

"LIAR!" bellowed Arawn again. "Let us see if we can spark your memory." He glimpsed at Snape, who, to my disbelief, gave a miniscule nod.

I took a step back, eyes widened as I stared at him, trying to comprehend what was happening.

"No…" I whispered, but the sound had barely left my lips as Arawn turned to me, baring his teeth viciously, and said "CRUCIO!"

My body hit the floor all at once. An agonizing wail exploded from my throat as I clawed at my skin frantically, sure that I had been submerged in white-hot fire; certain that I was coming apart at the bones. It seemed to go on endlessly, and I was gulping for air when finally Arawn released me from the curse.

"Alright, niece. Let us try again. Did that help you to remember anything useful?" he said coaxingly.

"No! I swear, I don't know anything," I choked, shaking with sobs, my chest so constricted that I could not take a full breath. The two dark figures towered over me – my uncle, eyes dilated maliciously and grinning at me with a twisted smile, and Snape, hauntingly beautiful and emotionless as he leered down from between ebony curtains of hair. My vision was blurred from the tears and the pang in my head as I locked on to his stony face. "Please, Severus… don't…" I pleaded in a whimper, begging him with my eyes. He folded his arms over his chest, unmoving.

"What did she just call you?" Arawn said crossly, expression caught between hostility and suspicion.

"It would appear she's attempting to make me feel pity for her," said Snape, sneering. "Go ahead and try again, Travers. I'm quite certain you can encourage her to start talking."

Nothing in the world could have broken me faster.

The final string of hope I'd held on to that Snape would save me… that some part of him was still mine… tore in two with the force of a lightning strike. He was the stranger.

"CRUCIO!" Arawn said, and I was ripped in half at the core, the agony of the curse warring with the ache in my soul for which was more painful. My fragile body could take no more. I wanted to give in to the darkness; to stop breathing. I wanted the horror to end. So desperately, I wanted to die, for in that moment… death would surely have been a welcome friend.

Chapter soundtrack: MIIA - Dynasty