Closing his eyes, he cast the strongest summoning spell he'd ever attempted to call the grisly body parts to him, but nothing appeared.
"A fitting punishment for a betrayer, don't you think?" A not-unpleasant voice enquired almost mildly from behind him.
Harry whirled, his wand slipping into his hand, even as an amused "Expelliarmus," sent it flying across the room.
His host had entered through the door on the far side of the rack. Severus' bloodied form lay between them, exposed and vulnerable.
"You must be the great Harry Potter," the man Harry recognized from Carl Westfield's rape memory greeted with what might have been a winning smile in other circumstances. Burke was a physically handsome man, with broad shoulders, dark hair, and grey eyes. He looked about forty now. Merlin alone knew how many deaths it had taken to reverse his age that far. Burke was dressed in a dark suit that seemed more suitable for a dinner party than a torture session. "I'm surprised that someone powerful enough to locate us and slip through my wards would be disarmed so easily, but you are a rash Gryffindor, after all." The smiling fiend gestured with his chin towards Severus. "He knew you'd come. He called out your name through it all."
"Burke," Harry snarled, letting the hate and anger amplify inside him, feeding it. He needed the focus it would give him now, more than anything. Although he hadn't duelled since Voldemort, he knew that he was powerful enough to take down any number of wizards. His magic was uncanny, its power eclipsing even the most seasoned of Aurors. But he could feel how strong Burke was. He didn't think that even Voldemort had projected this kind of power. The sheer malevolence of Burke's magic was terrifying. This man made Voldemort feel wholesome.
Harry thought it might take everything he had to best him.
He would have felt more confident with his wand in hand, but he didn't need it now. All he needed was enough focus to target the demon in front of him. Severus was between them. He wasn't going to risk his lover getting caught in the middle of this. He knew what he was capable of, and, looking down at what was left of Severus, he also knew what Burke was capable of.
"He's quite fond of you, you know. If I thought either of you were going to survive this night, I'd tell you to beware. He was quite fond of me as well once, but that didn't stop the snivelling mudblood from selling me out to Voldemort. But, this is amusing. You'll appreciate this. He wasn't afraid of dying. He wasn't even afraid of the torture at first. When I reacquainted myself with that tasty mind of his, I found that the only thing he truly feared was your learning the truth about him."
Harry's gaze dropped to Severus' face, which was still turned towards him. He'd hoped that Severus might have lapsed back into unconsciousness, but that massively swollen eye was still parted. Severus seemed to be following Burke's every word.
Trying to block out the sadistic bastard that had done this to Severus, Harry concentrated on his hate, building it, focusing it, but it was hard not to listen to what Burke was saying.
Like most megalomaniacs, Burke obviously loved the sound of his own voice. For, even though Harry hadn't responded to a single one of his conversational overtures, Burke continued with, "He'd rather die than have you know that he was Malfoy's whore. Did you know that from his first week in Hogwarts, he was on his knees in front of Lucius every day for his first four years at school, and when Lucius left, he gave his arse to any upperclass Slytherin who wanted it? When I joined the Death Eaters, the most powerful among us used to pass him around like a pack of Muggle smokes. I saw from his more recent memories that he still loves to be buggered, and believe me when I say that I gave him a good fuck or two, for old time's sake. What I don't understand is why someone like you would taint yourself -"
Still concentrating on the nuclear level explosion building inside him, Harry tried not to listen. His gaze was fixed on Severus as he used his injured lover's horrible condition to fuel his hate.
Severus had seemed to be staring unblinkingly at him when Burke began to talk, as though he, too, were attempting to block out the man. But when Burke began speaking about Severus' time at school and all that bullshit about being Malfoy's whore, Severus winced, and the one eye visible to Harry squeezed shut.
Up until that moment, he hadn't even considered that Burke's accusations could be true, but suddenly, Severus' aversion to telepathic contact between them made perfect sense.
Harry didn't know how he felt about the things Burke had told him. The only thing he knew was that he had to get Severus away from this monster.
That this degenerate would torture Severus like this, and then so joyfully strip away his last bit of dignity was the last straw. Harry was finally where he needed to be both magically and emotionally to deal with this sadist.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Harry shouted before Burke could spill any more filth about Severus' past.
"That isn't the wisest approach to take, boy. I have you at a marked disadvantage here," Burke laughed.
Totally focused now, Harry tapped those hidden reservoirs of power that he'd only touched that one time to save Ron. When he'd fought Voldemort, he hadn't had power like this at his disposal. It had taken Professor Dumbledore's death to raise the power levels to this potency. But that was ten years ago. Tonight, he was like a Muggle atomic weapon, all fire and explosive vengeance. He fed that payload of raw magical energy to his existing hate, felt it reach critical mass inside him.
While Burke laughed at whatever expression was on his face, confident that he had the upper hand now that Harry was without his wand, Harry tightened his intent and turned himself into the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb.
Even an egotist like Burke couldn't ignore the rise in power for long. Harry watched the malevolent smile fade from Burke's face as the other wizard became aware of the growing energy levels in the room. The enclosed, foul-smelling torture chamber had the same kind of feel that the air would get before a summer lightning storm.
Harry raised his hands. He saw Burke's malicious grey eyes widen as the first blue sparks danced between his fingers, and then . . . Harry let the pent up fury inside him loose.
The contained blue lightning streaked right over Severus, leaving him completely unharmed, but the instant the mage fire touched Burke's chest, Burke's wand dropped out of his hand and the man ignited. It wasn't even a duel. Burke never uttered a word or lifted his wand. The bastard wasn't even able to raise his shields, let alone mount any kind of counterattack, before the blue lightning consumed him and he started screaming.
Harry watched with something between shock and awe as his mage fire lit Burke's flesh in eerie blue flames that were chillingly reminiscent of Avada Kedavra's green light. The torture chamber reflected that weird blue glow, looking even more sinister by that unnatural illumination.
As the mage fire consumed Burke whole, and his shrieks and the stench of his burning flesh filled the room, Harry looked inside himself for a reaction. There was a part of him that believed that there should be regret or sympathy at the death of another human being, but with Severus' brutalized body lying between them, he couldn't feel anything but satisfaction as he watched the other wizard die. This was the fiend who had hurt Severus and Ron, killed Ron's team, and raped poor Carl. Burke deserved this and more.
The bastard would never rape again, never kill, never maim. That was all Harry could think when Burke crumpled to the ground as the burning blue fire ate his flesh away.
Burke's ending was nearly anticlimactic; it was so fast. When the last blue flicker faded, all that was left was a scorched skeleton and the stink of burnt flesh, not that the last was all that noticeable in the reeking chamber.
Staggering a little at the power he'd just extended, Harry summoned his own wand from where it had flown to the corner, calling Burke's to him as well. He'd need proof for the Ministry that Burke was dead.
Even those simple actions were hard. His mind felt dazed, his body weak and drained. But he couldn't afford to fall apart now. He had to hold it together for Severus.
He put his wand in the robe pocket next to Severus', and Burke's in the opposite pocket. He didn't want anything of Burke's anywhere near anything that had to do with Severus.
Turning back to where Severus lay on the rack, Harry did his best to control his horror and panic. He wanted, needed to free Severus from those chains, draw him into his arms, and carry him back to Hogwarts, but even if Severus' height hadn't made the possibility of carrying him improbable, his physical condition made it impossible. Severus was simply too injured for touch.
With a thought, Harry popped open the manacles binding Severus to the torture device and gently levitated Severus up. Recognizing how cold the dungeon was, and how real the threat of shock, Harry manifested a blanket and used his magic to wrap it around his naked lover.
He took hold of a corner of the blue blanket to establish direct physical contact with Severus and then prepared to apparate them out of this hellhole.
He had no need to be subtle while apparating home. Burke was dead. There was no one else here to prevent him from rescuing Severus. He simply blew Burke's wards wide open.
Hogwarts was another matter. With barely enough strength to hold both Severus and himself in transit, Harry persuaded Hogwarts' wards to let him back inside the castle. He aimed them at the infirmary.
Due to the late hour, he didn't even try to circumvent the alarms. Everyone would be asleep and he was going to need help as soon as they materialized. He knew he'd never have the strength to actually go look for someone. He let the alarms go off, and prayed that someone would get there to help Severus before he collapsed.
When he and Severus materialized in the centre of the infirmary's main ward, claxons were sounding at a loud enough volume to wake the entire school. He winced as their deafening keen sliced through his pounding head.
The infirmary door flew open. Filch came barrelling in, a broad axe from one of the school's numerous suits of armour clutched in his arms.
"Get Madam Pomfrey. Professor Snape needs help. Please . . . . " Harry begged, sinking to his knees, using all his remaining power to keep Severus in the air where there would be no pressure on his injuries.
His long grey hair wild around his frightened, homely face, Filch nodded and turned to race in the opposite direction with just as much haste.
Less than three minutes later, the infirmary door burst open again. Dressed in a long white nightgown and pale blue dressing gown, Madam Pomfrey ran to them. Minerva was fast on her heels, also in her nightclothes, in her case a green nightgown and grey dressing gown. Hermione, still fully dressed, and Ron in nothing but his nightshirt joined the crowd in what seemed like seconds. Harry could hear more teachers crowding around outside the infirmary doors, but Filch appeared to have had the sense to have stopped them there.
"Oh, my God," Harry wasn't sure which one of the women spoke.
All he knew was that someone else's magic reached out to support Severus midair – Poppy, he recognized the gentle feel of her energy. He could feel Minerva's power all around him as she focused on Hogwarts' wards, and a moment later the horrible wailing of the claxons stopped.
Harry sagged as his burden was removed from him.
"Harry?" Hermione was at his side in a heartbeat, kneeling down to embrace him. "You did it. My god, you did it!"
They all turned as a gasp and exclamation sounded beside them. Madam Pomfrey had peeled away Severus' concealing blanket.
Hermione gave a choked back, "His poor hand -"
"His injuries are extremely severe, Harry," Poppy said, running her wand over Severus' form. Harry couldn't help but notice the blood that was dripping from Severus onto the infirmary's pristine stone floor now that his blanket had been removed. "He needs -"
"No. Not St. Mungo's," Harry denied before Poppy could finish voicing her suggestion. "He won't last a day there. Please . . . care for him until I . . . can heal him. Keep him alive. That's all I ask."
And then he was falling face forward towards the floor. He had the vague impression of a blue blur that was Ron in his nightshirt moving to intercept him, and then blackness.
*~*~*
Harry wasn't sure how long he was out. When he opened his eyes, he was in an unfamiliar room. The bed he was in had no canopy, so it wasn't Severus' or his own room.
The first thing he saw was Ron's familiar profile. His old friend was sound asleep in a chair beside his bed. Ron was fully dressed now in his familiar brown robes.
"Hey," Harry gently called.
Ron started awake. "Oh, you're awake. How are you?"
"Where am I seems more the question," Harry said.
As he looked past Ron, he was able to answer his own question. Severus was in a similar bed across from his, with a sleeping Hermione sitting in a chair beside him.
The fact that Severus wasn't floating midair and was dressed in an infirmary nightshirt reassured him that at least some of his lover's wounds had been healed. Even from here, he could see that the skin on Severus' face was no longer covered with cuts. The area around his eyes was still discoloured a bit, but most of the swelling appeared to have gone down, and his nose was its usual long, straight ski slope, instead of the smashed mess it had been last night.
Harry had to hand it to her; Madam Pomfrey was damn good at what she did.
"You're in a private room in the infirmary," Ron answered.
Now that he was looking around, Harry could see a familiar painting on the wall of a girl flying a kite. He and Severus were in the same room Carl had occupied last October. From the quality of the sunlight slanting through the nearby windows, he thought it must be late afternoon.
"What time is it?" Harry asked, sitting up.
"Just gone three," Ron answered.
"Oh, you're awake!" Hermione said from the chair near Severus, waking up herself. "How do you feel?"
