He had promised

As the time to go collect Harry crept closer, Severus checked the time religiously, not wanting to be late. He had promised his son he would be there on time, and he meant to keep that promise no matter what. Therefore, when it was only a quarter hour till he was due to return to the Weasleys, Severus was vexed to find Dumbledore calling him through his floo.

"What do you want?" he said, his tone more clipped than he would have normally employed with his employer, but he had a timetable to keep. "Sir?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly, but said nothing about Severus' tone. Instead, he said, "Severus, my dear boy, I have a situation I need to discuss with you."

"Can it wait, Headmaster? I have somewhere to be, very soon."

"I'm afraid it cannot. It should not take too long. Would you care to floo through to my office? The current password is Fizzing Whizbees."

Severus suppressed a snarl, barely. "Yes, of course. I'll be there straight away."

"Excellent, Severus. Excellent. I'll expect you shortly."

Pressing his lips together, Severus waited till Albus' face disappeared before he grabbed the box of floo powder on his mantle and threw a handful into his fire as he called for the Burrow. "Molly!" he yelled immediately afterwards. "Molly Weasley!"

Though his face was viewing the Weasleys' sitting room, he heard a scattering of sound from another room, including a cry from Harry, he was sure. After a moment, Molly's face was in front of him.

"Severus!" she said, surprised. "Goodness, you startled me. Well, come on through then. Harry's anxious for you."

Severus swallowed his anger and disappointment. "I have a meeting with Albus, presently. Please let Harry know I'll come for him as soon as I can. Tell him I'm sorry--"

"Father!" Harry called, and Severus saw him running into the room, a mixture of relief and joy suffusing his pale face.

"I'll be back in just a few minutes, all right, Harry?" he said quickly. He knew Albus was waiting, and though he wanted to skewer the man for making him break his promise to his son, he couldn't do anything of the sort and keep his job. But he would make it up to the boy; he had to.

"Father, it's time to go home, right? I can come home now?"

"Soon, Harry. I'll be back soon." He turned to Molly. "Molly, would you please . . ."

"Of course," the woman said, and thankfully rose and went to Harry. "Come on, Harry dearie, let's get that picture finished before your father comes to pick you up, all right?"

"But Daddy's right there!" Harry cried again, and lunged for the fireplace. Severus couldn't take the expression on his face, not on top of the guilt he was already feeling. He pulled back, out of the floo, and heard the end of Harry's call of, "No!! Father, wait!!"

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Severus counted to ten before he took another handful of powder and snapped, "Fizzing Whizbees," even as he cursed Albus Dumbledore in his mind.

---

Molly cursed Severus in her mind, even as she cuddled the poor boy, Harry, to her chest in an attempt to calm him. She had never found a boy less fond of cuddling, though, and after he thrashed about for a moment or two, she let him go, with the admonishment to "stay out of the fireplace."

Even as he stumbled away from her, he obeyed, albeit barely, coming to a halt on his knees inches in front of the hearth stones. He looked so broken and lost, she just didn't know what to say to him. It would have been better for Harry, she thought, if Severus had just gone to his meeting and come afterwards, if a little late, than to put the boy through this. On the other hand, Harry had been watching the timer she had set for him in the kitchen like a hawk, ever since Severus had gone at lunchtime, counting down the time till his return. Who knew, but he might have been more upset if Severus had not shown up on time with no warning.

Then she gathered herself and approached the boy. She was a mother to seven children; surely she could pacify one homesick boy.

"Come now, Harry, come back to the kitchen and we'll finish those drawings," she offered again.

Harry shook his head. His arms were wrapped around his body, as if he were hugging himself.

"How about a nice cakie, sweetheart? Or some cocoa?"

"No, ma'am," he whispered. "Want Father."

"I know you do, Harry dear." She sighed, wanting to soothe his obvious hurt. "But the Headmaster called him in for a meeting just now. There wasn't anything he could do but go. He said he was sorry he had to be later than he planned, but he'll be here as soon as he's able."

"He promised." Harry was barely audible, though Molly was crouching right beside him. "He promised."

"I know," Molly told him, her heart breaking for the boy. For Severus, too, if she could admit it. "And he said he was awful sorry. He looked sorry, to me, in fact. Looked very unhappy. But I'm sure he doesn't want you to be miserable, too. He'd rather you were well and happy, I know it."

But Harry was shaking his head as if he didn't believe her, even as his body rocked slightly, back and forth. Glancing over his shoulder, she caught sight of her two youngest, and beckoned them into the room. "Ginny? Come here a minute. Ronnie, go and bring in that game you were playing earlier. Gobstones, was it? Let's have a game with Harry here."

"Inside, Mum?" Ronnie looked at her, aghast. "You never let us play that inside."

It was true; she hated getting the sticky mess of the stones on her carpet or even on the stone flagging. But it was easy enough to clean up, in truth, just a little swish of the wand. And she knew Harry loved the game. "Just this once. I think Harry would like to stay by the hearth, so he's all ready to go when his father comes for him. All right, Ronnie?"

Her youngest son grinned. "All right, Mum!" He scampered away to get the set of stones, and Ginny crept closer to where Harry was huddled in front of the fireplace.

"You okay, Harry?" the girl asked, and Molly smiled at her, pleased that she asked after him. Ginny was sometimes so boisterous with her brothers that she didn't have a care for anyone else's feelings, just needing to make sure she was heard above the fray.

Harry didn't answer. His mouth was moving, though, but Molly could not hear what he was saying. When Molly leaned a bit closer to him, she heard his harshly whispered words: "Stupid, ugly, horrid, unnatural freak. You're a freak. Unwanted, horrible, nasty, little freak. . . ."

His arms were still hugging himself tightly, as if he had never been hugged by another person, or been given comfort at all in his short life. Molly could not even imagine such a horrible thing. When she touched his shoulder, to offer him some comfort, and perhaps pull him into a hug, he jerked back as if he had been burnt, and his harsh words about himself went up in volume. "Such a stupid, ungrateful, loathsome, nasty freak! Can't touch, no one can touch you, you dirty, little freak."

He continued on in this vein and seemed unwilling to stop, even when Molly told him again and again he wasn't any of those things. It was like he didn't hear her, or didn't want to believe her. Or maybe that he couldn't.

Ginny had drawn back from him, looking as though she wanted to cry. Drawing her daughter into her arms and holding her tight, Molly could completely understand.

----

"What is so all fired important that you had to speak to me now, Headmaster?" Severus asked as he stepped out of the floo, peeved beyond measure.

"Have a seat, Severus," Albus said instead of answering. He gestured to one of the empty ones in front of his desk, and it was only then that Severus realized he was not alone with Dumbledore in the office. "Please."

With an irritated huff of breath, he complied, sinking into a chair and taking in the other two people in the office, a man and a woman . . . both of whom looked familiar. The woman was middle aged and rather stately looking, with short graying hair and thick eyebrows, and the man was tall -- Severus could tell, even while he was sitting -- bald, and black, with a gold earring in one ear. Then it hit him: Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The former was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the latter was an Auror of some repute.

Suddenly, Severus was glad he was sitting. There was only one reason these two would be waiting for him in Dumbledore's office. His thoughts immediately went to Harry, and he mourned the fact that he would never get a chance to say goodbye to his son. He turned a panicked gaze on his erstwhile employer, trying desperately to think of what he had done to make Dumbledore decide to ship him off to Azkaban. Had he stepped over the line with one of his students? Had a parent complained about his harsh words or numerous detentions, to make Dumbledore realize he should not have a former Death Eater on staff?

Grasping at some semblance of courage, he drew himself up, assuming a disdainful countenance. He would go quietly, with dignity, but he decided that he must learn the Headmaster's reasoning for doing this now. Had he not been a faithful servant since his return to the Light seven years ago? "Albus," he said, deliberately using a familiar form of address, so as to remind the man on the other side of the desk that they had once been close, close enough for Severus to trust him with his deadliest secrets. "Would you do me the courtesy of telling me why?"

"Why what, my dear boy?" Albus asked, infuriatingly. His bright blue eyes were serious, with ne'er a twinkle, but the Headmaster did not look angry or disappointed. More . . . wary? Did he think Severus would put up a fight? Well, he would, if only for Harry's sake, if there was some chance he could get away and get to the Burrow before being caught . . . but where would such a tactic get him? Nowhere, except a life on the run, subjecting Harry to the same, or, if he were unable to get to Harry first, he would never see his son again, regardless of whether he was in prison.

"Why what?" Severus repeated sharply. "How about, why you deemed it necessary to have me arrested," Severus said sharply, not adding the now, as he would have liked. His life was just falling into place, and Albus knew it, with a new career teaching dunderheaded brats, which he could likely have done without, but more importantly, he was just getting to know his son, and that he could never do without. Not anymore. His voice was thick with emotion as he accused, "I thought we had an understanding."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Severus had the rare pleasure of seeing Albus shocked. The older wizard's mouth actually dropped open. "Severus, I . . ." He also seemed at a loss for words. A double whammy, to be sure. Did he think Severus would not figure out why these two were here? He was insulted, if that were the case.

But Albus was shaking his head, seemingly having recovered his lost composure. His expression had turned rather wry, in fact. "Ms. Bones and Mr. Shacklebolt are not here for you, Severus. Not directly. I am sorry if I gave you that impression."

The moment's relief Severus felt, all the way from head to toes, with the single thought that he was not being locked away from his son reverberating through his heart and mind, over and over, lighting up something akin to joy in his very being . . . that relief vanished utterly in the next second when Dumbledore continued, "No, no, my dear boy. They came to tell me that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban."

Now it was Severus' turn to be at a loss. Why would Dumbledore be telling him this? It was not as if he could not protect himself from the murderous, back-stabbing Black anymore. He was a far cry from the stumbling, awkward seventeen-year-old the bastard had tormented while at Hogwarts, and Black no longer had an audience to play for, either, what with Potter dead. . . .

Oh, God. No.

It hit him, all at once, and in that instant all of his bones melted. He could not have held himself upright even under the Imperious. He slid down bonelessly in his chair, and noted in some distant portion of his mind that Dumbledore had come around from behind his desk and to his side, almost as quickly as if he had Apparated there.

"Severus." The word echoed as if from across a vast space. "Severus, it's all right. Harry will be protected."

It would not be all right. Black had all but murdered the Potters, although he used the Dark Lord's wand to do it.

Severus' bones appeared as if by magic, and he sat forward in his chair, fists clenched as tightly as his jaw. He snarled, "How can you say that!? That lunatic blew up twelve Muggles, just to get at Pettigrew! He'll stop at nothing to kill my son, just like he tried to six years ago!"

And then Severus gasped, having let that particular kneazle out of the cauldron. He pressed a trembling hand to his face. This was not one of his better days.

"Severus, it's all right," came Dumbledore's calm tones again. The understanding in his voice was nearly Severus' undoing. But he had to keep it together, had to keep up appearances. "Both Ms. Bones and Auror Shacklebolt already know of your adoption of Harry." Underlying that statement was the hint that they did not know that Harry was, in truth, his biological son. Perhaps Albus did not want them to know, for some reason. Perhaps he was letting Severus decide on his own whether to tell them. Yes, Severus thought, Albus might be that subtle. His employer -- still? he wondered -- went on, "Amelia, in fact, was my contact at the Ministry who aided us in getting the paperwork through so quickly."

Gulping down a breath like it was razor wire, Severus could do nothing but nod, his face still covered by his hands. Sirius Black had escaped from the most secure prison in the wizarding world. How was that even possible? And how long would it take for him to come after Harry and finish the job he'd started when Harry was just a babe in Lily's arms?

He had to go to the Burrow. He had to see if Harry was all right. What if Black had discovered where Harry was? Oh, god!

He was already out of his chair and halfway to the fireplace and the floo network when Dumbledore brought him up short. "Severus. Becalm yourself. Black can not have found him already. We must discuss what precautions you and Harry must take now."

Severus stared at the Headmaster incredulously. How could he be expected to carry on a conversation with his son in mortal danger?

"Sit, Severus," Albus said more forcefully, and Severus felt compelled to obey the tone of voice that the Headmaster used with him so infrequently. He collapsed into the chair he had recently vacated. "Running off half-cocked will do neither of you any good," Dumbledore continued, and pushed a tin of sweets at him, whilst giving him an earnest smile. "Lemon sherbet?"

It was all Severus could do not to scream.

---

When Severus finally reached the Weasleys, it was almost three hours later than he had originally promised his son he would be there. Within seconds of coming through the floo, he was kneeling in front of the hearth. Harry was in his arms, sobbing his relief, and Severus, for just a moment, nearly joined him with tears of his own.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered over and over into the boy's fine, dark hair as he patted circles on the boy's back, attempting to soothe the tight muscles of his back and shoulders. "I'm so sorry I was late. I'm so sorry, Harry, please believe me. . . ."

From the look on Molly Weasley's face, and her husband's, as they sat next to each other on the sofa with their hands clasped together for support, the last three hours had been rough on them, too. While cupping Harry's head against his chest, he mouthed words of apology to the two of them, earning a sharp nod from Arthur and a tear-filled sniff from Molly. He would apologize better later. He could not afford to antagonize her at all, as without their cooperation, Harry would not be able to come back here again. Not until Black was captured and Kissed by the Dementors they had waiting for his return to Azkaban.

Rather than rely on their unstinting cooperation, though, Severus had been willing to take Harry and run, just to not be anywhere that Black could get a hold of him. They would go far from Hogwarts, or the Burrow, or even the whole of Britain. They would go somewhere far, far away and be safe.

Merlin knew, though -- as did, apparently, Albus Dumbledore -- that no where would be truly safe from the likes of Sirius Black. No one in the Ministry knew how he had broken out of Azkaban, but that he had done so meant he had the tenacity and drive to find Harry anywhere in the world and finish the Dark Lord's job. Thus, Severus realized, (with Albus' help, of course, after much debate) that he would be better off just making his home and the other places he frequented as impenetrable as possible against that filthy murderer's incursion.

Harry's sobs had turned to hitched breaths and hiccups, but Severus did not relinquish his grip on his son, still holding him close, wrapping him in as much safety and warmth as he could, while he could.

"I would never leave you, Harry," he said, now that the boy was probably able to hear him again. "Never. You're my son, forever and ever, and I'm very sorry I was late." He pressed a kiss to the top of the boy's head. "Please believe me, Harry. I will always return for you."

"O-okay," came the stuttered acceptance, along with a hard squeeze from Harry's thin arms which had snaked around Severus' neck where he was clinging for dear life.

Nodding once, Severus stood, still holding his son in his arms. "Molly. Arthur," he said solemnly and inclined his head. "I need to ask you an enormous favor."