Chapter Notes: I know that in the book, Harry is taller than he is in the movies. He might even be taller than Snape (unless Sirius is very tall). However, I have taken my characterization of Harry and Snape from a variety of courses and since I consider the movies as canon as the books, I think of Harry as Daniel Radcliffe's height, therefore, he is 5'6. Snape has Alan's sensual voice and height. He is 6'1. This fic is written from Harry's point of view, with Harry's prejudices, so he makes Snape, and Snape's body parts, seem sort of unnaturally large and monstrous.
Harry woke to a white ceiling and blue bath towels. He went through his memories quickly and most seemed to have returned. There was a gap involving his capture and subsequent imprisonment but everything else was intact as far as he could tell. He remembered being with Ron and Hermione and their search for the Horcruxes, then waking up in the cell drugged out of his mind. He sat up, becoming aware of a dull ache throughout his body. Everything hurt.
Snape approached and held out another vial. "I trust your memories have returned."
A spike of rage surged through Harry, and he smacked Snape’s hand, knocking the vial out of his fingers and apart against the edge of the tub, where it shattered. "I'm not taking anything you give me, you bastard!" He hurled himself at Snape, determined to tear him to pieces. "YOU KILLED DUMBLEDORE!"
Snape grabbed his forearms in surprisingly strong hands and held Harry at bay as Harry slammed his foot into Snape's shins. He tried to rip his arms out of Snape's grasp to punch the arsehole in the face. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! DUMBLEDORE TRUSTED YOU! HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! SIRIUS IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! IT'S ALL YOUR-"
"Silencio!" Snape cut him off verbally although Harry continued to mouth insults and accusations at him, ignoring the fact that Snape looked more murderous than Harry had ever seen before. The slimy bastard's face was even more twisted than it had been on that night when he killed Dumbledore. "Petrificus totalus!" Snape closed one long fingered hand around Harry's neck and Harry did not doubt that he wanted nothing more than to crush the throat between his fingers.
In a low, deadly voice, Snape hissed, "You are very lucky that the Dark Lord has forbidden you from being harmed without his express permission. If I was allowed it right now, I would teach you a lesson in pain you would never forget. You would do well to remember that I have a very good memory, and it is highly likely that he will want you tortured for information soon. If you wish a repeat of last time and to be beaten so badly that you won't wake for three days, I can grant you that wish. I trust you have enough brains in that empty head of yours to remember and understand that I do not make idle threats."
His black eyes burning, he whispered, "Mobilicorpus" and Harry felt his body being lifted by what seemed like invisible tendrils. They carried him out of the bathroom and down along the hallway. As they passed through the bars, Harry was turned face-down before being placed on the bed. Snape poured a lotion onto Harry's back and rubbed it on his wounds with brisk, short movements of his hands. He flipped him over and hurriedly smeared it over most of the bruises and cuts. As soon as he finished, he moved out of Harry's sight. Harry heard him tap his wand against something and then leave the cell. He did not release the full body bind until Harry could no longer hear his footsteps.
Harry lay in the bed and flexed his muscles to make sure they all still worked. He tried to make sense of his situation. He'd been captured for at least three days. A pang shot his heart as he thought of Ron and Hermione and desperately hoped that they had not been captured as well. He refused to consider the possibility that they had been killed. Snape had captured him and was certainly on Voldemort's side based on the hate-filled speech he had just given. His use of "we" meant that other people, Death Eaters no doubt, had been involved in Harry’s capture. Harry assumed that since he wasn't dead, he had not been brought before Voldemort yet. He didn't understand why Voldemort would order the Death Eaters not to harm him. Voldemort was probably worried that once the Death Eaters started hurting him they wouldn't be able to stop. Snape sure looked as though he wanted to kill Harry back in the bathroom. Then again, if Voldemort had ordered the Death Eaters not to hurt him, then how had he got all these injuries? And why the hell was Snape healing them? Did Snape and his friends disobey Voldemort and now they were trying to fix him up before they turned Harry over? What exactly they were waiting for, he didn't know. He did know he wouldn't go without a fight.
Harry attempted to reach for his magic, to Apparate, to do something, but it felt as though a fuzzy bubble was surrounding him, preventing him from accessing any magic at all. His inability to do any magic probably had to do with the manacles around his forearms. Now that he was more lucid, he examined them closely. What he had mistaken for bumps were actually very tiny carvings. His vision was too fuzzy to make out any details, but he thought he recognised some of the strange marks as runes. The manacles were seamless and fit against his arms far too perfectly for him to even shift them from side to side. Sandwiched between the metal and his skin rested a white cushioning layer that also covered the top rim of the cuffs.
After Harry finished examining the manacles and carvings, he decided to explore the room again. The sheets on the bed had been replaced with clean ones and he wrapped himself in one before moving around the room. He trailed his fingers over every inch he could reach but was unable to find a door. Based on the way the bars had moved earlier, Snape had used some sort of spell to open them.
Unable to get through the bars, Harry turned back to the table, noticing some objects on its surface. He cautiously approached and recognised what it was first by the smell – food! He hurried over, becoming aware for the first time of how desperately hungry he felt. The food and drink probably had potions in it but his stomach felt as though it were eating itself, and he was far too hungry to ignore the offering. He crammed the first thing he could grab - a sandwich - into his mouth, not caring that he didn't recognise the contents. He washed it down with pumpkin juice and then drank the chicken soup which had gone cold. He licked the bowl and plate clean, not feeling satisfied by the meagre meal.
Once he was sure he had eaten every crumb and licked every drop, he returned to his exploration. The bed was flat against the floor with four dark, twisted, metallic posts that disappeared into the ceiling. He ran his fingers over the strangely shaped rods and discovered carvings of dragons that slithered up and down the posts. Each dragon was about as long as his forearm and held a ring in its mouth. Their bodies were etched with carvings although the designs on their backs looked more like runes than scales. He hated not having his glasses. For some reason, the fact that he had trouble seeing bothered him more than his loss of magic. He expected them to restrain his magic but keeping his sight from him as well reminded him constantly as how helpless he was as their captive.
He began to feel sleepy as he explored all the posts on his bed to check for differences between them. "I knew you poisoned the food!" he yelled at the empty walls, wishing Snape was there so he could rough him up. He collapsed back against the bed, strugglingly to stay mentally alert. "Even if you heal these injuries, he's still going to know you gave them to me. He'll read it in my mind. "He'll punish you for disobeying his orders. I hope I get to see it." He nuzzled his pillow. Sleep seemed an excellent idea. "After I kill him, I'll kill you."
When Harry woke, there fresh food rested on the table. He ignored it until his stomach twisted with pain, then staggered over, and ate with gusto. His - lunch? - consisted of two more of the strange sandwiches, which tasted slightly of fish, along with a thick stew of potatoes, carrots, beef, and onions. Resting beside the dishes were two glasses, one with pumpkin juice and another with water. He downed them after finishing off the food and finally felt full.
After his meal, Harry used the toilet and brushed his teeth. It seemed pointless to comb his hair but he did it anyway. Without a mirror he had no idea if he was making his unruly hair better or worse. Once he was sure he had no tangles, he set the comb back down. A feeling of sleepiness came over him and he gripped the edge of the sink. "Do you drug everything, you greasy bastard? Just turn me over to Voldemort and be done with it."
"What makes you think I am going to turn you over to the Dark Lord?" Snape's voice floated over to him from the opposite side of the room. Harry spun around to see Snape standing just outside the bars.
"I doubt you are keeping me for the pleasure of my company." Harry grumbled as he made his way over to the bed so he wouldn't collapse on the floor. "Do you have to drug me silly?"
Snape stepped through the bars and strode over to him. "If I didn't, you would throw another little fit and exacerbate your injuries." He grabbed the corner of the sheet Harry was wearing and yanked it off, exposing Harry’s body completely. Harry rolled onto his side and covered his genitals with his hands in embarrassment.
"He's going to know." Harry informed Snape as the Death Eater pulled out a bottle from his robes. "Even if you heal my injuries he will know so there's no point."
Snape pushed Harry onto his stomach and poured the liquid over his back. "I have not forgotten that your Occlumency is pathetic."
"And whose fault is that?" Harry mumbled into his pillow as Snape's fingers stroked the oil into the wounds.
"Yours," answered Snape shortly. "Your friends, your classmates, the entire Order is at risk because you couldn't keep your nose away from where it didn't belong."
"Fuck you," whispered Harry, too weak to do anything but lie there like a doll as Snape turned him over and poured the liquid over his chest. Snape's fingers moved quickly as if Harry's skin would burn him if he lingered. He finished with a couple of swipes at marks on Harry's face, then washed his hands in the sink as Harry drifted off.
"I hope he casts the Cruciatus on you for the injuries," said Harry before passing out.
Snape had gone when Harry next regained consciousness. How long did he sleep? The lights in his cell never went out and he had no idea how long it had been since he had been captured. There was fresh food laid out on the table but his stomach no longer ached and he decided to ignore it as long as possible. He examined his torso, finding that most of his wounds had healed. Only the severe cuts had left marks and few scars that remained were healing nicely. In another few days, he might even be blemish free.
His stomach growled as he dressed himself in his sheet and crossed the room to grab the bars. "Snape!" he yelled, hearing his voice echo down the hallway. "Snape! I'm not eating anything until you talk to me!" He waited, squinting in the bright lights. "Snape!"
Snape arrived after Harry's voice began to grow hoarse. He slammed open a door at the end of the hallway opposite from where the bathroom was and stormed over to the bars in a swirl of black. "You had better be in mortal peril." He stopped opposite Harry, his face so angry, Harry could almost feel his displeasure radiating off of him. The dark line between his eyebrows was even darker than normal and his eyebrows crowded around it.
"Snape." He coughed and pressed his face through the bars, trying to make out more of Snape's face clearly. "Are you just going to feed and drug me? Why am I here?"
"I had hoped you had enough brains in that cobwebbed head of yours to figure that out without me explaining to you in detail, but obviously you have less intelligence than I originally considered."
Harry rolled his eyes, but Snape ignored it, stating, "When I factor in how stupid I regarded you originally, I am forced to now conclude that your IQ is less than your age. I admit I was wrong, Mr. Potter, when I said that you weren't special. How you managed to not flunk out of Hogwarts is beyond me, although I suspect a certain Miss Granger had a rather large hand in that. It is a shame that the Dark Lord didn't mark her, as I think we would all be better off."
Harry glared up at him through the bars. If he had his magic, he would've hexed the bastard until he bled out his ears but even giving the Death Eater the yelling he deserved would probably just result in his voice being taken away again. "I don't even remember how I ended up here. If I could remember then I might be able to figure it out but I can't."
Snape tilted his head. "You don't remember? Legilimens!"
Harry tried to mentally force Snape out as the Death Eater rifled through his memories.
"Searching for something?" asked Snape and Harry thought of the locket he and Dumbledore had found.
"With whom were you searching?" Ron and Hermione sprang up in Harry's mind and he saw the camp where they had stayed.
"Weasley and Granger, I see." Their faces rose and swam before him.
No. No, he mustn't let him know. Harry tried to focus on other memories of his friends, sending them up to Snape to distract him.
"What about the Order? Did they help?" Harry's thoughts slipped to the Order before he managed to focus only on Sirius. Snape watched Sirius fall through the veil before trying to shift Harry’s attention. "They weren't much help in protecting you from Lucius." He continued but Harry had no recent memories of the Death Eater and focused on his old ones. Snape finally released Harry's mind.
"Still as pathetic as ever at Occlumency I see," snarled Snape. "When I bring you before him, the Dark Lord will read your mind as easily as a book."
"You saw to that," snapped Harry.
Snape drew himself to his full height. "If you called me here to hurl more insults and accusations at me, I assure you I have far better ways of occupying my time." He turned to leave.
"Wait!" Harry reached through the bars for him. "Give me clothes!"
Without looking back at Harry, Snape said, "You are in no position to demand anything."
"I need clothes, you pervert!" Harry yelled. "Or are you just keeping me naked because you like the view?"
Snape disappeared in a flurry of black, stalking back towards the door he had entered from. Harry crossed the room and threw himself on the bed. Snape returned and tossed a small black pile at him.
"Now eat and BE QUIET."
"What about my purse?" Harry quickly pulled on the black t-shirt and black silk bottoms.
"It was given to the Dark Lord."
"Does he still have it?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"He destroyed what he did not keep," Snape informed him before stalking off.
Harry stumbled over to the table, holding the bottoms, which were far too big for him, in place. Ice settled in his stomach, even through the thick haze of drugs.
Voldemort would have no reason to keep his mother's letter, the picture of his father and himself, the shard of Sirius's mirror, the photo album, or the Marauder's map. If Harry was lucky, the Snitch and the broken wand pieces had been spared. He hoped like hell that the Invisibility Cloak had been with Hermione. He didn't know what was worse – the idea that the Cloak might be in the hands of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, or that it had been destroyed and he had nothing left of either of his parents but his memories.
The thought that he was probably all that remained of his parents crushed him deeply. What the hell had he been thinking? He should've put those precious items in his vault or given them to someone else to hold on to instead of carrying them with him. Instead, he had enabled Voldemort to not only take his parents' lives, but strip away nearly every tangible piece of them.
His emotions warred with each other and he desperately tried to bring his true feelings up past the thick layer of calm but he just couldn't do it. Not knowing what else to do, he ate the food, which was the same as the last meal only in greater quantity. He finished all of it, not knowing when his next meal would come and returned to his bed to wait for the sleeping potions to kick in.
Snape had said 'when' not 'if' which meant that he was bringing Harry to Voldemort. Harry wasn't sure why he felt such a feeling of dread in his chest. He had expected it from the beginning, but to have Snape confirm the matter made it suddenly a matter of time and his time seemed short. As much as he hated the greasy git, Harry knew that he was right about Harry's poor Occlumency skills. Voldemort would be able to see his thoughts and he'd learn that Ron and Hermione were out trying to destroy his Horcruxes. If Snape had not known with whom Harry was hunting for the Horcruxes, then that meant Ron and Hermione were probably safe for now. Harry had to protect them. He'd never be able to clear his mind, not when facing Voldemort, but he might be able to focus his thoughts so that Voldemort only saw some of his memories. If he controlled what Voldemort saw, he could still protect his friends. Harry practiced forcing certain memories to dominate his mind until the potion overcame him.
The next meal was twice as large as the last but the same ingredients. It was enough food to feed two people for at least two days. Harry poked his finger at it, wondering what parts of it were drugged. Maybe if he ate each dish separately he could figure it out. Then again, knowing Snape, probably the whole meal was drugged.
"There's no need to glare at your meal," said Snape from the bars. "Your wounds are healed enough that I no longer need to drug you with sleeping potions although I will not hesitate to dope you up if you disobey me."
Harry stared at him. The bastard knew how to move silently when he wanted to. After regarding him suspiciously for a moment, Harry shovelled food into his mouth. He didn’t trust Snape, but knew if the food was drugged that he would find out eventually. Not eating was pointless.
"For one so small, it is amazing how much you manage to eat," commented Snape.
Harry glared at him as he continued to devour the stew. "I wasn't always given as much food as I wanted. Besides, I don't know when you will stop giving me food, so it's best for me to eat as much as I can while I have access to it."
Snape could not argue with that logic. "Once you finish your meal you will take a bath. Again, you can come willingly or I can force you. The choice is yours."
Harry chewed his sandwich and toyed with the idea of refusing to do anything Snape wanted him to, but he had a much better chance of escaping when he was outside of the cell. Besides, if he refused then Snape might bathe him himself and that idea gave Harry a shiver. After he ate as much food as he could stomach, he got to his feet and walked over to the bars.
"Put your hands in between these two bars." Snape ordered him, pointing out two bars which were next to each other. Harry glared up at his fuzzy face but shoved his hands through the bars. Snape touched the left manacle with the tip of his wand and muttered a spell Harry couldn't make out. A chain appeared out of nowhere, attaching itself to a half ring on each of the manacles so that Harry’s arms were chained together with a five inch chain.
"Oi!" He protested and pulled his arms back through the bars. He tried to break the chain but it was as if the cuffs had been built with the chain already intact. Snape stepped away from the bars, which finally opened.
"First door on the right," said Snape.
Harry scowled but walked to that bathroom, clutching his bottoms so that they wouldn't fall off as he walked. "How am I supposed to take off my shirt with this on?" He gestured to his bound wrists.
"I will remove it after you get in the tub," answered Snape briskly. The bathroom door was open and Harry stepped through and stood in the centre of the rug. Snape entered behind him, closing the door while spelling the bath tubs taps open.
"D'you have to be in here too?" complained Harry as he stepped out of the bottoms. He gripped the edge of the tub with his hands and climbed in.
"I told you before; I need to make sure that you don't kill yourself," said Snape tersely. He whisked his wand and muttered a charm causing the chain to disappear.
"I bet you'd love that. It's a shame Voldemort doesn’t allow it." Harry peeled off the shirt and tossed it to land with the bottoms.
"If I wanted you dead right now, Potter, I'd prefer something far more satisfying. I think I'd strangle you." Snape tucked his wand back in his robes and moved to his place against the wall.
"I'd hex you," Harry informed him as he searched for the soap through the bubbles. He had never imagined Snape as the sort who took bubble baths. "Or maybe poison. It'd be great if I poisoned the poison master."
"Based on how pitifully you did in class without my help, I have no doubt you could brew numerous deadly potions; however, I doubt you'd be able to do so on purpose."
"Without your help?" Harry scoffed and scrubbed shampoo into his hair. "You did nothing but make it worse."
"Have you forgotten last year already, Potter?" Snape sneered. "I doubt your improved potion making skills had anything to do with Slughorn's teaching."
Harry ducked under the water to rinse off the shampoo. "It showed that I'm very good at brewing when given clear directions and I don't have a greasy git breathing down my neck."
Snape snapped a towel from the rack. "Get out of the tub, Potter. I've had quite enough of your insufferable presence for a day. When the Dark Lord arrives you can annoy him instead."
Harry grabbed the towel and climbed out of the tub. He dried himself off and calculated. Even though he had seen Snape put his wand away, his vision was far too fuzzy to see where it had gone and even if he grabbed it, he doubted he could cast magic. If he wanted to escape he would have to physically disarm Snape. Most wizards became confused when physically attacked, but Snape wasn’t a pureblood. Harry would have to catch him completely off guard to be able to knock him out. Moving away from the tub, Harry pulled on his clothing. Snape stepped beside him to spell open the drain. Harry took his chance and lunged at Snape.
Although Harry was small, he knew how to throw around his weight from being beat up by Dudley and his gang. He rammed his body against Snape with enough force to knock the Death Eater into the tub and took off running. He was also quick, even in bottoms far too large for his frame. He dashed down the hall, choosing the door at the other end of the hall from where the bathroom was located. He closed it quietly just as Snape burst through the bathroom door. He heard Snape underestimate his speed and open the door across from the bathroom.
Turning around, Harry quickly examined the room he had ended up in. It was a library with books covering nearly every inch of the walls, a fireplace, and scattered furniture including a couch, two chairs, and three tables. Harry dashed to the fireplace and searched desperately for Floo powder. Not finding any, he raced around the library trying to find a door other than the one he had come in. He didn't find another door, but he found stairs that led up, so he scrambled up them, his fingers digging into the thick, dark carpet. He ended up in a narrow, carpeted hallway that had three doors. Choosing the one nearest to him, he stepped into what had to be Snape's bedroom. A wide bed with black sheets took up most of the room. In between it and the door along one wall rested a writing desk that had papers and books organised in neat piles. Across from the bed stood a large wooden wardrobe. To the left and the right of the wardrobe were two doors. He heard footsteps and, realising he wouldn't be able to escape back out through the front door with Snape approaching, opened the door on the right. He found himself in Snape's bathroom. Closing the door, he chose the other and discovered Snape's cupboard, which was filled mostly with black. He spun around and noticed a window behind him covered in thick curtains. He was about to throw them open when he heard Snape reach the top of the stairs and he dived under the bed.
The door to the bedroom slammed open and Snape stood dripping wet in the entry way. He snarled, "I know you are in here, Potter." Harry held his breath as Snape strode to check the bathroom and cupboard. When Snape opened the cupboard door, Harry quietly rolled out from under the bed and darted towards the bedroom door. He was half way through it when Snape's Petrificus Totalus struck him in the back. He fell forward, landing with his head and upper arm hanging out over the stairs. Snape marched out of the bedroom and stood staring down at Harry.
Snape hissed, "Mobilicorpus," and floated Harry back to his cell. Harry raged inside his mind. If only he hadn't stopped to search for the floo powder! As Harry floated through the library he wondered where the hell he was. Snape's personal home? Where were the other Death Eaters?
Snape sent Harry over to the bed and manoeuvred him so that his out-stretched arms rested near the posts at the head of the bed. He muttered the same charm he had used to create the chain, “Concretio Ferratilis.” Pulling a vial out of his robes, Snape grabbed Harry’s jaw with one hand and uncorked the vial with the other. As soon as he released the body bind, he forced Harry's jaw open and poured the potion down his throat. Harry twisted his body and tried to knock the potion out of Snape’s hands but something prevented him from moving his arms more than a few inches. Snape held Harry's mouth and nose closed while Harry struggled, trying to hard to kick him
Harry was only able to hold out for so long and when he finally needed to breathe, he swallowed. Snape released him and stepped away from the bed. Harry gasped for breath while he twisted to look at his wrists. Chains connected the bindings on his forearms to the rings on the bed posts. He tugged as hard as he could, but the chains were as strong as the one Snape had made earlier.
Snape said, "All you managed to do with that little display was make me angry."
"Good." Harry tried to kick him again.
Snape left in a blurry smear of black.
Harry tugged on the chains until the sleeping potion Snape had fed him left him too tired to move. "Next time I'm in your bedroom I'll set your bed on fire." He assured the ceiling before he drifted off.
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