Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Professor Snape lifted the curse almost as soon as he cast it, tensely glancing behind him as he did. The distant murmur of voices from above continued unchanged. Harry watched silently from his position on the grime-covered floor, struggling to regain his composure as Snape cocked his head and listened cautiously to the silence from the stairway. He entered the room without a word and knelt by Harry’s side, pulling several vials from the pocket of his robes.

Harry, still panting slightly from the pain of the curse, blinked at him repeatedly, but remained silent, as well. His Potions Master’s eyes glittered darkly, but Harry couldn’t read the emotion behind them. Snape held out a potion to him, and Harry took it with a trembling hand.

"Drink that quickly," Snape commanded coldly. His voice was a mere whisper, his teeth gritted together as if he was loathe to be so close to Harry. Harry imagined he probably didn’t smell so good, and the grease in his hair could rival Snape’s own.

"What is it?" Harry tried to ask, but his raw throat burned. He still wasn’t about to trust anything Snape would give him without inquiry; there was no love lost between these two.

Snape sneered at his insolence, but, as his eyes raked Harry’s broken form, Harry could have sworn he saw a brief trace of something like compassion in his eyes. That emotion was so foreign to everything he had ever known and experienced from Snape that he was certain he must have been mistaken.

"It’s a Strengthening Potion. It’s very mild, so it should go undetected. Unfortunately, that also means it won’t last for long. It should help get you through the next hour, anyway. Hurry up! I’ve several more you need to take, and I don’t have a lot of time. They expect me to be torturing you and will soon want to come down for the show," he barked. "Take this chocolate, too."

Harry gulped the contents of the vial, grimacing at the bitter taste. He thought he detected a brief smirk from the corner of Snape’s mouth and was certain the man had purposely done nothing to improve the taste of the potion. He couldn’t help the amusement that shone in his eyes over the fact that Snape was giving him chocolate. He hoped the twins would find out about it. It did help ward off the lingering chill from the effects of the Dementor, however, so he gobbled it up greedily.

"Now this one," Snape said, handing Harry another vial. "It should at least help you to walk. Being as dim as you are, even without those head injuries, I need to make certain you understand that it would be better to keep the fact you can walk from your captors until you need to get away."

Harry ignored the barb. "Why now? What’s going on?"

Snape watched as Harry drank the second potion before answering. "I’ve informed the Order of your location. Our curse breaker is about to break through the wards. Help should be arriving shortly."

Harry couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips, and he briefly shut his eyes in thankfulness. He knew Snape was referring to Bill, and his heart soared at the thought of seeing Ron’s brother again. Despite his trepidation over anyone getting hurt to rescue him, he desperately wanted to get out of here.

"Don’t get overconfident, Potter. The Dark Lord is also expected today, and it’s down to a race to see who will arrive first."

Harry cringed. So, this was it. "What about Ron?"

"Mr. Weasley has fared much better than you. They’ve gone to retrieve him and will be bringing him to your cell shortly, before they move you both outside. The Dark Lord is planning a bit of a show. He wants an audience to see the destruction of the Boy-Who-Lived and the triumph of the Dark Lord. He wants to prove you didn’t live, after all, merely survived a few extra years," Snape answered with a twitch. Despite the seriousness of the situation, it occurred to Harry that this was the most civil conversation he’d ever had with the man.

"Here, take this last potion, it should help to dull some of the pain. Voldemort would be able to detect if I gave you anything to help the effects of the Cruciatus, and we can’t risk that. All of these potions are temporary, and the full weight of your injuries will come crashing back down upon you when they wear off. You need to get to an Order member before that happens, because, most likely, you’ll pass out. They all have Portkeys to transport you back to Hogwarts."

Harry drank the last of the potions and coughed slightly. He opened his eyes to find Snape staring at him, his expression unfathomable. The potions seemed to be doing their job, because he was suddenly feeling stronger than he had in days. Even the ache in his knees was gone, and he could breath easier, despite his broken ribs. He pulled himself to a seated position.

"Why didn’t you inform Dumbledore that Trent was really Narcissa Malfoy?"

Snape clenched his teeth as he hissed, "The Dark Lord doesn’t happen to share your noble ideals. The only one within his organization who knows everything that is going on is himself. You’d be wise to pay attention to that if you ever expect to beat him."

Harry held his breath, feeling the panic set in again. How am I supposed to beat him? I can’t even stand up.

Harry just blinked at Snape, positive he hadn’t heard him properly. "What?"

"When he performs the Legilimency spell upon you, don’t put up a big fight – just enough to be convincing – then, let him have the information he wants."

"Are you crazy? I’m not giving him anything–"

"Listen to me, you arrogant little brat, and listen well. I’m not here risking my own neck over any great desire to see you survive. I’m doing it because the Headmaster asked me to help. He seems to feel you are necessary, and that we must get you away at all costs. You are not in any condition to fight him and win; he’ll get the information, anyway, and your mind will be left shattered."

"If you let him believe you are fighting him, but surrender the information he wants, it will give him pause. You certainly needed time to digest the contents of the prophecy. He will, too. He’ll not want to eliminate you as long as there is a slight risk it could go wrong for him. He likes to be in complete control. The ‘marking you as his equal’ will distress him. It will remind him of what happened the last time, and he won’t risk that again without looking at his options carefully."

Harry started at Snape’s words. So, he does know what the prophecy says. What he said made sense, but Harry remained unsure. Dumbledore had wanted this information kept from Voldemort…what if Snape was working as a double agent? But if he were, he could have just given Voldemort the prophecy at any time.

"Professor Dumbledore would, of course, prefer the Dark Lord not get the information, but he knows your survival is more pressing. He believes you will one day be a credible opponent, strong enough to defeat him, but you’re not ready for this yet. If you take him on now, we’ll all lose, and I don’t wish to spend the remainder of my days in service as a spy. You’re too weakened after spending the week with a Dementor, and he’s going to get this information out of you, anyway. I know you have some acting abilities, Potter. You’ve certainly pulled the wool over the eyes of most of the staff. Use your…talent…for something useful."

Harry studied the man in front of him for a moment, weighing his options. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

Snape looked at him coldly for a long time, and Harry didn’t think he was going to answer. He was surprised when Snape did begin to speak. "Despite the fact that I despised your father to the day he died, I owe him a life debt. I take that responsibility seriously. I also feel I owe one to your mother."

Harry looked up sharply; Snape had never mentioned anything about Lily since that night Harry forced his way into Snape’s memories. "My mother?"

"She was a Healer, and she cared for me after I turned from the Dark, before I turned spy for Dumbledore. She was a compassionate person, and we were…friendly once, for a brief time in school. She was Muggle-born, and my family forbade the friendship. Potter’s family, despite being pureblood, obviously had no such qualms." Snape’s voice was quiet, almost hypnotizing, as his eyes remained focused on the past.

"I was on duty the night your parents were killed. I didn’t know what was happening and couldn’t get help in time. I sent word after the Dark Lord entered your parent’s cottage. I saw the brilliant flash that I assume was when he lost his body. I was still in the house when Hagrid arrived to bring you out."

Harry listened with a lump in his throat, deciphering the truth behind what Snape was telling him. Snape was the other man with whom Moony had told him his mother had been involved. Snape’s family had put a stop to it, and he went along with them, then became jealous of James for not having the same pressure from his family. This was too much for Harry to comprehend at the moment, and he shoved it to the back of his mind. Getting him and Ron out of here was the priority at the moment. I’ll deal with this later.

Suddenly, he became aware of other voices outside his cell. Snape stood up and moved quickly away, removing his wand and again holding it on Harry. Remembering what was supposed to be happening, Harry lay back down on the floor and tried to look like someone who had just been cursed.

Two Death Eaters that Harry recognized as Macnair and Nott shoved a disheveled-looking Ron into the cell. Ron was arguing with them as they pushed him, and he could tell Ron was getting on their nerves. Harry had to cover his smirk. Good for you, mate.

Ron looked thinner than he had when Harry had seen him last, paler and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes making the brilliant blue stand out vividly. Although slightly the worse for wear, he seemed healthy overall. Obviously, the assessment was not mutual as Ron’s face dropped in horror when he got a look at Harry.

"Bugger, Harry, you look like hell!"

"Did you get a chance to show the Potter brat what you thought of him?" Macnair asked Snape. The trio of Death Eaters moved into the hallway to discuss their plans, while Ron knelt down at Harry’s side and helped him to sit up. Harry couldn’t risk telling Ron he was feeling all right, fearing one of the guards might overhear him.

"Bloody Hell, Harry, what have they done to you?"

Harry just blinked tiredly, trying to convey with his eyes that he was all right. Ron was incensed, and Harry noticed the red coloring of his friend’s face as he stood and whirled on Snape and the others. "Getting a real kick out of this, are you, Snape? None of you would stand a chance against him in a real fight."

"Sit down, Mr. Weasley," spat Snape. "Unless you want a dose of what we served to Mr. Potter, I suggest you hold your tongue. We could easily have that Dementor back in here to quiet you down."

Harry couldn’t help the shudder that ran through him at mention of the Dementor, and he knew Ron was aware of his reaction. He paled slightly, but his fury appeared to be overpowering that fear. He pulled his fist back and swung at Snape while Harry screamed, "Ron!"

Snape ducked, and Ron’s fist connected with Nott’s jaw. Harry heard the crunch and saw the man flung back against the wall. Macnair raised his wand, but Snape knocked his hand away, sending the jet of red light streaking harmlessly into the air.

"Don’t stun him now, idiot. The Dark Lord wants him coherent. He wants Mr. Potter here to get the full effect of the pain he’s about to inflict on Mr. Weasley. Let’s move them to the location."

"How do you want to do this?" Macnair asked, before the three lowered their voices in discussion.

Ron knelt down next to Harry again. "Hang in there, mate."

Harry couldn’t stand the fear he saw in Ron’s eyes. He was also deeply touched by Ron’s loyalty. "Ron, listen to me," he whispered. "When we get outside, keep your temper and stay down. The Order is on the way. Bill is bringing the wards down right now."

"How do you know?"

"Whatever happens," Harry continued, ignoring Ron’s question, "just try not to draw attention to yourself and get to any member of the Order you can. They’ll have Portkeys to get you out of here. If anything happens…if I…tell Ginny…tell her…"

"We’re both getting out of here, Harry."

"That’s the plan, but if anything goes wrong…please tell her…"

"She knows, mate. She knows."

Harry nodded solemnly, before the two were lifted up and hauled outside.

Harry was blinded by the bright sunlight when they first emerged from his dark dungeon. Somehow, being locked away with the Dementor had made him forget it was actually June. The sun was warm, and the smell of wildflowers wafted fragrantly through the air. It reminded him of Ginny’s hair, and he smiled. Merlin, I want to see her so bad.

The area they were brought to was set up for what looked like some kind of stage production. A circular stone was raised slightly above the ground, and Harry was dumped unceremoniously in front of it. Ron was dragged upon the stone dais and made to stand to one side as he was tied to a metal pole. Snape knelt in front of Harry and strapped his wrist into a cuff secured to another black metal stand. It was very similar to the cuffs he’d been placed in when they’d first arrived.

Snape quietly muttered an incantation, and Harry opened his eyes wide in surprise. Although the cuff appeared to be secured tightly around his wrist, Harry could feel how loose it was. He could easily slip his hand out. Snape must have used some kind of concealing charm. He nodded slightly to the impassive Potions Master.

He screamed out in sudden pain as his scar seemed to rip open, and his vision blurred with the intensity. Snape looked at him in alarm as he clasped both hands to his forehead. He could feel a warm, sticky substance. Had his scar burst open? That had never happened before.

Harry knew what the blinding pain meant...Voldemort was near. A moment later, he saw him striding forth from the manor, his long cape billowing in the wind. Lucius Malfoy followed closely at his heels, his head bowed meekly in subservience.

Harry’s heart began to beat madly, but he stared defiantly into the red, pitiless eyes that had haunted all his nightmares. He wouldn’t cave in to his fear now. He’d come too far for that, endured too much. There would be time for the fear later…

"Potter," Voldemort hissed.

"Tom," Harry answered, remembering Dumbledore’s use of the man’s given name.

"That name means nothing to me," Voldemort nearly screeched, and Harry saw Ron pull back in horror from the creature in front of him. Ron had never seen Voldemort in person before. Harry couldn’t blame him for his revulsion. Tom Riddle was now a grotesque cross between a man and a snake.

"Then you won’t mind my using it," Harry replied, getting a surge of pleasure from Voldemort’s obvious fury. He felt slightly reckless from the pleasure that tormenting Riddle gave him. The pain from his scar was blinding, and he had to force himself to concentrate in order to block it out. Where is the Order? They had better hurry, Harry thought, as he didn’t think he could hold him off for long.

As if answering his call, the air was suddenly filled with the popping sounds of wizards and witches Apparating on the grounds. Harry could see Remus, Tonks, and most of the Weasleys. Even Dumbledore himself was there. The Death Eaters began to surge forward as the battle commenced. The air became littered with color as curses volleyed from each side, exploding in the air with great bangs as they met.

Voldemort took another step towards Harry, sending Snape, Macnair, and Nott off to battle, while he extracted the prophecy from Harry’s mind. He seemed impervious to the sounds of the raging battle going on around them. Harry felt a thrill of fear course through him as the cold, red eyes locked on his determined green.

"You have some information I’ve waited a long time for," he said casually as Harry felt the intrusion within his mind. Instantly, he put his shield up, but the pressure was more powerful than anything he’d ever dealt with before, even holding off Snape. His entire body began to shake, and he was glad he was already seated. The effort to hold his shield was intensified tenfold due to the intense pain in his scar. It had never occurred to him how much of a problem it would be.

He felt his Occlumency shield crumbling and allowed it to fall, the words of the prophecy playing like a recording in his mind. He saw the snakelike eyes of his enemy fly open wide as he realized the full impact of the words.

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Jonathan Taylor battling fiercely with Macnair. "Hang on, Harry," Jonathan yelled. "Concentrate on those you love."

Voldemort hadn’t abandoned the fight, like Snape suspected he would. He remained within Harry’s mind, probing, searching… Harry was beginning to feel drained again and suspected the potions were starting to wear off. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind. Still, he forced himself to focus on the Weasleys and how much they all meant to him. Everything he’d ever learned about real family was taught to him by the Weasleys, and he cared for them all very deeply.

Voldemort suddenly screamed in pain and took a staggered step back from Harry, his eyes filled with confusion, his hand clutching at his chest.

"That’s right, Harry. Focus your thoughts on everyone who loves you," Jonathan instructed while still parrying Macnair’s spells.

Harry’s head pounded from the struggle to keep Voldemort out, but it appeared to be working. He focused on more of the memories he cherished.

Voldemort held his own head in both hands, much the same way Harry was. His nose was bleeding slightly, and he staggered as he moved. He turned his fury towards Jonathan, who continued to yell encouragement to Harry.

Voldemort raised his wand and snarled, "Avada Kedavra!"

There was absolutely nothing Harry could do. He watched as the jet of green light hurtled towards his mentor in slow motion, striking him full in the chest. Jonathan’s eyes opened wider slightly, before he crumpled dead in a heap on the ground.

"Nooooooo!" Harry screamed, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. He rose to his feet for the first time since the encounter began and would have run towards his teacher, even though he knew it was already too late. His breathing was ragged; shock and horror threatening to take over. No! Not now. I’ll think about it later…

Voldemort steadied himself, seeming to gain strength from Harry’s pain, and blocked his path. Harry again felt the invasion in his mind. This was it, Voldemort was going to kill him, and the prophecy would be fulfilled. The more Harry allowed the fear to overwhelm him, the stronger Voldemort’s intrusion became. Harry could see Ron staring in horror and knew he’d be killed instantly after Harry fell. Steeling his resolve, Harry steadied his emotions and turned back toward the monster that had hunted him all his life.

This time, however, he knew what to do. He remembered how Ginny had told him it would infuriate Tom in the diary when her loyalty to Harry wouldn’t be swayed. His thoughts turned to Ginny.

Harry was startled by the intensity of his own emotions as Voldemort was slammed backwards and crumpled to the ground. Blood poured freely from both nostrils, and he appeared too weak even to raise his wand. His red eyes were mere slits, conveying his anger and intense confusion. The two opponents each lay on the ground, unable to move and panting heavily.

"This isn’t over," Voldemort finally said.

"Stay away from my family," Harry ground out.

Voldemort grabbed onto something from within the pocket of his robes and disappeared instantly, leaving his Death Eaters to continue the battle. Obviously, he’d had a Portkey; he was in no shape to Disapparate.

Harry was stunned; he’d hurt him. He had truly hurt him. His eyes raked the surrounding grounds; there was no way he could get up. Although the battle had obviously drained Voldemort of his power, it had taken Harry’s, too. He felt incapable of so much as a levitation charm at the moment. All the pains from the torture, the lack of food and sleep, and the effects of the Dementor crashed down upon him. Snape’s potions had worn off. The pain in his ribs made breathing difficult.

There were other battles still raging everywhere Harry looked. The Order was fully engaged with the Death Eaters. He could see Tonks fighting with Lucius Malfoy while Moody was cursing Narcissa. His heart nearly stopped beating as he saw a still-worn looking Remus again facing off with Wormtail. Harry chewed on his lower lip as he tried to stand, the pain in his knees not allowing him to do so. He clutched at the ground, trying to pull himself closer to lend a hand. It turned out to be unnecessary as a moment later, Remus aimed his wand at Wormtail and spat, "Corpus Inflammare!"

Harry watched in sickening fascination as Wormtail’s body went up in flames. He screamed in agony and rolled on the ground, trying to douse it, but to no avail. Remus stood above him mutely, a stoic expression on his face, but made no move to save him. The expression on Remus’s face frightened Harry, and he wanted to get over to him to touch him and make certain he was real. Wormtail’s screaming finally ceased, and Remus slumped to the ground, staring at the pile of ash that had once been his childhood friend. The only visible remainder was a scorched silver hand.

Above him, on the circular, stone platform, a slight movement caught Harry’s eye. He raised his head wearily to see Draco Malfoy stalking towards him, a murderous expression on his face. Even in his exhaustion, Harry couldn’t help but be baffled by Malfoy. After all, he’d just battled with the most-feared wizard of their time, and he’d held his own. Did Malfoy honestly think he was going to quail under the heated stare of a glorified, tow-headed ferret?

Harry knew he didn’t have the ability to raise even a weak shield, never mind to counter a curse, but Malfoy didn’t know that. He’d have to bluff and hope to distract him until help arrived. The look on Malfoy’s face showed he’s seen the battle between Harry and Voldemort, and it hadn’t ended at all the way he’d expected. The fact that Harry was still alive seemed to be a great insult to Malfoy’s integrity.

He strode angrily towards Harry, a glint in his eye and sneer on his lip. Harry met the gaze unflinchingly but was surprised as a shadow fell over him. Ron had freed himself from his bonds and moved to stand in front of Harry, blocking Malfoy’s path. Malfoy nodded as if accepting a challenge.

Both boys wore expressions of grim determination as these lifelong enemies circled each other warily. Each felt justified in their loathing, and nothing and no one would stop this battle now. There was no Hermione to tug on Ron’s robes, no teachers to intervene. They weren’t students; it was a battle between a Death Eater and a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

They fired several curses back and forth, each managing to get their defensive shields up in time. They’d seen each other battle during the DA and knew each other’s weaknesses. Still, for a time, they seemed fairly evenly matched. Malfoy struck the first hit, aiming at Ron’s wand hand. "Ossis transit!"

Harry winced when he heard the bones in Ron’s hand crunch, and Ron screamed in pain, agony written all over his face. Ron gripped his wand in the other hand while Malfoy stood there gloating.

Ron hissed, "Expelliarmus!"

The force of Ron’s anger behind the disarming spell sent Malfoy hurtling backwards. His head struck the metal post that had been used to bind Ron with pounding force. The sickening sound as his head connected with the immovable post echoed in the stillness. Malfoy’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he crumpled to the ground, a trickle of blood coming from both his nose and his mouth. He was unmistakably dead.

Ron stood there in utter shock, unable to comprehend the suddenness of what had just happened. His mouth worked furiously, but no sound came forth. All the color drained from his face as he sunk to his knees in horror over what he had done.

Harry wanted to go to him, to say something, to let him know it wasn’t his fault. It was self-defense. He found he couldn’t drag himself that far; his body hurt more than he’d ever remembered, and his grip on consciousness was failing. Bile rose in his throat as he stared at Ron in pain. Harry was so terrified at the idea of having to murder, and now it was Ron who had to deal with that guilt. His vision dimmed as the scenery around him seemed to fade in and out of focus. He knew he was grievously wounded, but was certain Madam Pomfrey would be able to take care of it when he finally returned to Hogwarts.

An unearthly scream of fury rose through the air, echoing over the vast openness, as Narcissa Malfoy stared at her son, lying in a heap on the raised platform. The sound seemed to vibrate and drown out all the other sounds of battle until Narcissa Disapparated with a "pop."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, with the intensity of animals defending their cubs, had dispensed a number of opponents as they made their way over to the two boys. Nothing was going to stop them from reaching Ron and Harry. Mr. Weasley, the quicker of the two, bolted ahead, and he ran to the top of the platform to kneel down beside Ron, who was obviously in shock. Harry could see tears in the man’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around his son. Ron had silent tears of his own streaming down his face, and he kept shaking his head in denial, staring at Malfoy’s prone form. Mr. Weasley patted Ron gently on the back and whispered something in his ear. Ron never even acknowledged his father’s presence as a Portkey took them away.

Mrs. Weasley finally reached the platform and rushed to Harry’s side, her own eyes filling up at the sight of him. She reached out to touch his face, then pulled her hand back, her eyes searching for some part of him that wasn’t bruised. Harry struggled to hold his composure; the full weight of everything that had happened since Ginny received that note from Malfoy was beginning to break through his calm exterior. Wrapping his arms around himself in a pitiful attempt at comfort, he looked away from Mrs. Weasley and fixed his vision firmly on a tree nearby, blinking furiously.

"Oh, Harry, dear. Everything will be all right now." She wrapped her arms around him tightly and held him as she’d done once before, after the Third Task, like a mother would. "You’re safe now, Harry. You’re safe, and everything will be okay." She continued to whisper these gentle, soothing words, and he wished she would stop. They were bringing him dangerously close to the edge.

Without warning, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, and he felt his face scrunch up in misery. He buried his head in Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder, finally allowing the sobs to wrack his bruised body. She just held him tightly and allowed him to cry. The memories the Dementors had forced him to endure fought for prominence in his mind, and he was helpless to shut them off. He cried for Sirius, for his parents and the home he’d never see, for Jonathan and for Hestia, for Cedric and the Burrow. He cried for Ron and the burden he’d now have to live with for the rest of his life, for Moony, forced to kill the last of his childhood friends, and for all the fear and terror he’d experienced facing Voldemort. He went over that silent list of names of all the victims in his mind as he finally allowed himself to grieve in Mrs. Weasley’s safe embrace.

He wasn’t aware of Professor Dumbledore approaching, or of him taking in the scene with sorrow and standing guard while Mrs. Weasley offered her comfort. He just finally allowed himself the one thing he’d always secretly longed for, to be held by a mother. This was a comfort even Ginny could never have given him. Somehow, within Mrs. Weasley’s arms, he could feel the presence of Lily Potter and knew from a deep, long buried part of himself that she would approve of this woman to act as her surrogate.

He didn’t know how long it was that she held him there, but, eventually, he felt the pull of the Portkey as the two of them were sped back to Hogwarts, back home.

A/N: So, there you go! I know JKR has something planned for the debt Wormtail owes Harry, but I really wanted to let Remus get him. *Shrugs*, so I did. Samhaincat, I’m so sorry about Malfoy, (well, not really, but I know you like him). This was all plotted out long before I "met" you. The scene here at the end with Mrs. Weasley was strictly for me. I’ll never forgive Hermione for interrupting at the end of GoF and I’ve always wanted to redo that. So I did.

Special thanks to my betas Mistral, and ChaoticK. Mistral, I was so intimidated by PhoenxSong before I started posting here, but you’ve been really great.