Grey
Summary:
Harry and Snape are captured only to be presented to the Dark Lord. With Snape badly injured Harry was on his own in an attempt to get them both out...
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Chapter 1: Capture and Revelation
"Let me go! Let go, you crazy bitch!" Harry yelled as Bellatrix Lestrange dragged him and a half conscious Severus Snape behind her across a large stone hall. Cackling, she tossed both of them in front of an ornate throne carved of ebony with redwood inlay at the back of the hall, at the feet of Lord Voldemort in all of his serpent hybrid glory, red eyes and all.
"And what treasure have you brought me my Bella?" Voldemort asked with a laugh before taking a proper look at the two captives that the cackling madwoman had tossed at his feet. "Well, well, well, Mr. Potter, how good of you to join us, and Severus... you have more than a few questions to answer."
"Sod off wanker! I'm tired of you all trying to kill me! None of you even bother to tell me why! I can't get anything from the other side either," Harry fumed.
Realizing a moment later that Snape wasn't yelling at him to shut up because he was actually hurt, Harry scrambled over to check one of the only teachers who had reliably tried to keep him safe. Quickly and with obviously far too much practice for his age and supposed background he checked the potions master over. When he checked for a concussion he found one and swore under his breath, carefully adjusting his grip and the way that Snape's head rested on the floor. The rest of the people in the room watched his actions with more than a little surprise as a gleam of interest and sudden avarice began to glitter in Voldemort's own gaze.
"Your diagnosis?" Voldemort asked casually, curious to know what his young enemy had concluded and what he would say on the matter.
"Concussion, a pretty bad one, still bleeding wound to the head, probably the reason he's got a concussion, something cut his side but his clothes and robes are soaking up the blood. He might be loosing too much, I'm not sure with the heavy clothes he wears and the fact that its black. The way Bellatrix dragged us in here didn't help any, and he could be bleeding internally after the way I saw him tossed into the side of a building by that mis-aimed blasting hex," Harry muttered absently as he continued trying to do what he could for the older wizard.
"~Tom, is this the sneaky spy? Has he hurt you? May I eat him?~" A hissy voice reached Harry's ears from somewhere near Voldemort's feet as Nagini slid out from under the man's throne.
"~No! You can't eat him, he's mine!~" Harry hissed back viciously, as he quickly moved between the snake and the downed professor, stunning the room into silence as they realized the snake language had come from Potter of all people.
"~Yours? The mark on his arm says he's mine.~" Voldemort hissed back quietly, echoing through the rest of the room. Harry paled as he realized his mistake and refused to meet the man's gaze, while still doing his best to shield the man behind him. "~You will answer my questions, fully and truthfully or I will make you watch him die as he is torn apart. Have I made myself perfectly clear?~"
"Yes," Harry practically whispering his answer as he switched back into English.
"Why did you claim him as yours?" Voldemort asked, starting the interrogation, easily following the language switch. Harry shrugged non-commitally earning a warning. "Full and Truthful disclosure, little Harry."
"I honestly don't know. I just know that he's mine even if I didn't know until I said it. Its like something about him is... singing to me. Something on his left arm, or in his chest. I figured that the singing from his arm came from you and how you make my scar burn but the other..." Harry trailed off uncertainly. Voldemort watched the young man intently.
