“So this is where the great muggle lover works. My, I expected something a bit grander than just a few bits of silver and some old paintings…”

Dumbledore toyed with a lemon drop. He looked up at Bella with a calculated gaze.

“What brings you here Bellatrix?” he spoke calmly, holding the sweet between two gnarled fingers.

“It is not you who I seek, old man. Severus, dear friend, I propose a swap. If you come with me, I shall return the boy unharmed… well, perhaps further unharmed might be a better turn of phrase,” Bellatrix smiled knowingly and held out her hand from the fire.

Dumbledore studied the two Slytherins, lost in his own inner monologue for the briefest of pauses…

Here stood before him were those who had been considered Lord Voldemort’s chief lieutenants - the most trusted of all his band of followers. Sharing such a past, they were now ideologically polar opposite - yet both fuelled by such similar emotions: passion, fervour and desire, both channelling their dark pasts in order to create a future out of the chaos of their yester years.

Severus - his own loyal servant. A man who devoted his entire life to paying penance for his misspent youth- a debt he paid by expelling a burning and ferocious familial love, a passion for the protection of those he cherished, and a desire to repent his unforgotten sins.

Bellatrix LeStrange… another faithful subject, yet one he could never call his own for she spent her life in homage to her one true master, the so-called Dark Lord. Binding her passion and desire to his willingness, Bella would do anything for Tom Riddle, much as Severus would give Lily the world had she asked for it. Since the disappearance of Bellatrix’ master- her devotion had turned into an endless quest for his return, leading to the frenzied attack on a ministry official which enabled her to escape, with wand, and kidnap Harry.

***

The lemon drop felt hot in Dumbledore’s hand.

Dumbledore now had his plan in place- the question being how could he convey it silently to Severus.

“Here Severus, you shall be in need of a light refreshment at some point today. There’s no better palate cleanser than a lemon drop, I do believe. I find them the key to good digestion, don’t you know...” Dumbledore said in his usual irreverent way, a cryptic half-smile painted on his face, hoping Severus would pick up on his clue without need for an additional emphasis.

“Do I have your solemn vow as a witch that if I go with you, Harry will be not be harmed further?” Severus chose his words delicately.

“Leave your wand behind with the Mudblood Champion and in the name of our Lord, Severus, it is done.”

And with her final words Severus removed his wand and left it on Dumbledore’s desk. He pocketed Albus’ token, throwing a final look of disgust at the Deatheater, he reached out and roughly took her hand in his own before being engulfed in flames and spirited away from Hogwarts.

***

They tumbled out of the fireplace in a haze of dust and acrid smoke. Severus stood, stiffly, and tried to regain his sense of decorum. His eyes darted around the room in reconnaissance.

“What have you done with Harry? What do you want with me?” He spat venomously.

“You always were one to cut to the chase… always so ruthlessly efficient… I remember --”

“We don’t all play with our food LeStrange, now is not the time for nostalgia.” Severus interrupted, sharply.

Bellatrix flourished her wand, and conjured an old leather bound book.

“Luctor et emergo… ring a bell?” She purred.

Severus’ impassive mask faltered for a brief moment as he contemplated the ancient rite the woman was suggesting. He knew full well what she meant. Luctor et emergo was old magic. As far as the man knew it had not been evoked for centuries, seeing as it was illegal throughout the wizarding world- only studied by the darkest of magical beings.

His role suddenly became clear, and the guilt that had been kept at bay rose up inside him, gnawing at his chest. It was his fault that Harry had been kidnapped. For once the boy was not to be the target- he was just a decoy, a tool in Bellatrix’ delusional plan.

“I feel privileged that you would think of me. Perhaps knowledge of your brother-in-law’s deflection to the ministry was not available in Azkaban. I’m sure you must be a little behind on current affairs, as if you believe me to be the only deflector you are sorely mistaken. I must repeat my request, where is the boy?”

“I’m fully aware of Lucius’ shortcomings, Severus. There is no need to confuse them with your own. We both know the truth, you chose the winning side rather than fight with honour- selling our secrets for a chance to gain that Mudblood’s affection. I think I shall have a little fun first. Perhaps Master Harry might enjoy the spectacle… Wormtail, fetch the boy!” Bellatrix placed her book beside the fire and drew forth her wand, pondering over which hex to use first. As long as Snape remained alive, she would still be able to perform the sacrifice needed to resurrect her master, there was no need to deny her the satisfaction that she had been craving the past five years – after all, the night was yet young.

***

Harry was cold. His clothes were ripped and his glasses smashed during one of Bellatrix’ more exerting curses. He did not mind the hunger, or the endless shaking of his rattling joints. Harry felt he could endure it all, if only they might give him a glass of water. His throat was parched; his mouth so dry he felt like it would crack in two if he attempted to speak. These people were wicked through and through, so Harry knew it was pointless to try and appeal to better natures that they did not possess.

The door to his cell was pushed open and Harry felt himself rising in the air again as Wormtail came to collect him.

He was lowered to the ground gingerly. He could make out another shape in the room, a dark looming presence. Harry looked up at his Father and tried to speak, the only sound escaping his mouth were moans- he had not even enough strength to formulate entire words.

Severus looked at Harry with an inscrutable expression. It was as if he would not be in any more pain even if someone cut out his heart and proceeded to stamp on it in front of him. The boy was a pitiful sight, unnaturally pallid and sweating. His eyes swollen and his skin riddled with abrasions and bruises. He would need a healing potion before long.

“Now that we are all gathered, I think it is time to start the evening’s entertainment, we shall show Harry what happens to half blood traitors.”

And with these final words Severus was thrown off his feet by the force of Bella’s first hex. As he shut his eyes he thought that the pain induced by the curse was mild relief from the pain of knowing that he had caused Harry to suffer such malice.

He would remain stoic, as he had always done when facing the Dark Lord’s wrath. There would be no tears, whimpers or screaming passing his lips. Severus knew that this was the only way to deny Bellatrix satisfaction. Bellatrix always loved the manifestation of pain in others, she loved watching her victims writhe in uncontrollable agony, and so by silently bearing her torture he would have the upper hand.

***

Harry wondered if this man really was his Daddy.

Why would his Daddy be silent, letting that cruel woman to curse him into oblivion?

The man certainly looked like Daddy. The same tightly pursed lips, bent nose and slick black hair. He had Daddy’s frown of concentration, the one he wore when he was making a particularly tricky potion- the one that warned Harry not to even think of distracting him. And yet, Harry wondered how the man he knew -the man who was quick to scold him over the slightest complaint- could be silently enduring such a brutal attack without even trying to fight back. It was with that thought that Harry finally understood why Aunt Minerva said Daddy was the bravest man she knew.

As quick as the onslaught had started, it was over.

***

Bella was furious.

Snape was not going to react, she was sure of it. She could not hex the boy for fear of breaking her vow. Perhaps later she could have Wormtail crucio him, at least then it would be Wormy’s head on the line rather than her own.

Bellatrix did not care for Wormtail; he was a snivelling waste of a man.

She remembered him from her days at Hogwarts, he was always palling around with her despicable cousin, that beast and Potter’s Father: a weakling needing protection from whoever deigned to offer it to him. Her master knew Wormtail for what he was, the stupid rat would have been dead at the last meeting had he not been made secret keeper for the Potters.

She had only chosen him to escape with her because of his little trick, transforming into a rat and stealing the keys to her cell so that she would be able to pounce when the ministry officials came to make their weekly inspection.

She supposed she could have left him behind, he probably deserved it - but two of her Lord’s faithful were needed to perform Luctor et emergo, and while Wormtail was as pathetic as they come – he had not betrayed his master. The calibre of those casting the spell would not alter the consequence. She had enough power for the two of them, by killing Snape and shedding a thimbleful of their own blood she would have the means to bring the Dark Lord back from whatever limbo he was stuck in.

He who struggles will emerge the victor… He who falls shall rise again.

No one knew the importance of these words like Bellatrix LeStrange.

With a wave of her wand an unconscious Severus Snape and a weeping Harry Potter were banished to the small cell, leaving Bella to prepare herself for the next stage of her plan.

***

Harry hadn’t wanted to cry. He should have been strong, but he had cracked.

There was blood trickling from the corner of Severus’ mouth from where he had been biting his tongue to prevent himself from screaming.

Harry didn’t know what to do. He was the child. Adults took care of him, not the other way round. He tried to think back to the last time he was hurt, what Mummy had done to make him feel better. He reached out a hand tentatively, and grasped Daddy’s big hand in his own, giving it a slight squeeze to let him know that he was there. He shakily moved a little closer, clinging to the hand, and at the same time bending forward to reach down and softly kiss Daddy’s forehead. He wiped the blood off Daddy’s face with his shirtsleeve, and lay down beside him- resting his little head on Daddy’s chest so that he could listen to the beating of the man’s heart.

The tears were back again. Running freely from Harry’s huge red eyes. He hiccupped and thrust his hand over his mouth so that he could choke back the sobs. He was supposed to be a big boy, he was going to be a big brother soon – not crying all over the place like some stupid little kid, and now he had made Daddy wake up when he should be resting. Rest was what sick people needed, after all.

***

Severus felt something wet on his skin, he felt a slight pressure on his chest and realised that Harry was clinging to him. Severus was not one for hugging, but if ever there was a time for one- he supposed this would be it. He reached out a hand and began to pat Harry’s back. He felt Harry stiffen, and then the weight was gone from his chest and he felt oddly bereft.

“M’sorry Daddy” Harry blurted out. His face flushing red with shame. “I didn’t mean to waked you up …”

It was all too much for Severus; he let out a hearty laugh as the irony of their situation hit him like a ton of bricks. Here he was trapped, without his wand –fearing for his and Harry’s lives- and the first thought to come into his head was to correct Harry’s grammar.

Harry sat up and drew his legs up to his chest and lay his head down on his knees so that Severus couldn’t see his face and know that Harry was crying like a little coward.

“It is I who am sorry, Harry. You have nothing to apologise for, little one.” Severus pulled himself into a sitting position and beckoned Harry over to him. Harry flew into his arms, burying his head in the folds of Severus’ robes. The older man encircled Harry with his arms, and the two lay clinging to each other before falling into a restless sleep.

***

To say that Lily was frantic would be something of an understatement. She was out of her mind with worry, fear and grief. Minerva had had to petrificus totalus her in order to prevent her from leaving Hogwarts to floo to Malfoy Manor to interrogate Narcissa.

Lily was going to kill Severus for putting himself in such reckless danger! To leave, without his wand, on the word of a highly dangerous lunatic Deatheater was an act beyond idiotic – and yet it made her love him more furiously than she ever had before. She had not known Severus to be a gambler, and now here he was, laying his own life down to win back Harry.

Lily felt the most scared that she had ever been in her life. Her heart was in her mouth; she was so helpless – so inadequately prepared to take hold of the situation. Seven months pregnant with a hugely swollen belly – Lily’s back was constantly aching and her ankles were ballooning by the second: rendering her utterly useless in the grand scheme of things. She could not join the aurors. She could not search the streets. She could not even concentrate on finding a spell that might guide them to Harry. Lily could barely walk one hundred yards without feeling the need to rest her tired legs, the legs she wore out with her constant nocturnal pacing.

Lily’s one miniscule moment of respite came from the knowledge that the baby, cocooned inside her, was protected from the misery and heartache of those around her.

Lily knew that Professor Dumbledore had ordered the house elves to keep a close watch on her. Dumbledore was an understanding man; he had certainly tried his hardest to comfort her when she was grieving for James. He’d not once judged her, even though he witnessed first hand the extent to which she allowed herself to get truly caught up in her sense of despondency, to such an extent that she was unaware of anyone or anything except herself and her grief. Whilst he was an understanding man, Lily knew that he was fearful that she might slip back into her old habits and it made her feel heartsick to think that wonderfully wise and gentle Dumbledore might believe her capable of intentionally harming Severus’ unborn child.

***

“Harry… Harry, wake up, I have to talk to you and I don’t know how much more time we have…” Severus whispered into the sleeping boy’s ear.

Harry opened his eyes and brought his hands up to rub the sleep away. Severus placed his own hand over Harry’s mouth, silencing the question on his lips.

“Don’t say a word, pretend that you are asleep. I don’t know if they are watching us. Listen to me very carefully; this is of the utmost importance. I’m going to slip something into your pocket, and when we are next taken out of the cell I want you to take it out and hold it in your fist. You mustn’t stop for anything, if you disobey me boy…” Severus removed his hold from Harry and looked at his face, Harry’s eyes were squeezed shut but he raised his chin up to make a slight nod in promise.

Severus felt inside his trouser pocket and found the small round sweet, he grasped it in his long fingers, hoping and praying that Albus Dumbledore was as talented a wizard as his reputation claimed, as he swiftly slipped the lemon drop into Harry’s pocket. Severus allowed himself to relax slightly; comforted by the thought that Harry would soon be on his way back to Lily.

***

Bella was prepared. She had transfigured several rocks into knives of various shapes and sizes, a pile of logs were stacked by fire, and she had even had time to practice her rope binding spell on Wormtail until she had perfected her technique.

She had sent Wormtail to wake their honoured guests. It was a shame that she had taken that vow not to harm the boy further, but the one consolation was that when the Dark Lord returned he would being able to deal with the boy as he saw fit. After all, there were plenty of Mudbloods for her to play with in the future. It was just that there was something so delectable about the child, even though she was under oath not to destroy him…

Wormtail entered the room, Snape and Harry limping behind him. Wormtail grabbed Harry and pulled him away from his Father, at the same time Bellatrix bound Severus’ hands behind his back and sank her knife into the soft flesh of his neck, not deep enough to sever an artery but deep enough to cause a river of red to spurt in an upwards arc and splatter the wall behind Severus.

Bellatrix began her dreadful chant:

You, rebel, look to taste the due

Most shallowly did you these arms commence,

Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence.

Some guard these traitors to the block of death,

Treason’s true bed, and yielder up of breath.

***

Severus was going to face the death that he had resigned himself to long ago. He knew he had been living on borrowed time. He had chosen to ally himself with Dumbledore and his Order, and such a move had been to sign his own death warrant.

He wanted the truth to be known. He had not chosen what he thought as the winning side. He had heard news of Voldemort’s plan to attack the Potters, and had gone to Dumbledore on bended knee asking the man to use his power to protect Lily. The thought of Lily in danger had been the catalyst.

Severus did not know good, and he did not know bad. He knew that much of life was lived through a combination of the two. Emotions combined- one can be a good person at heart and commit a bad act. It was a lesson that he had always tried to impress upon Harry, he didn’t want the boy to think that life was made up solely of Deatheaters or Dumbledores. He wanted Harry to know that people make mistakes. He wanted Harry to know above all that realising that you have done wrong- being able to admit your own mistakes- is the sort of magic beyond anything taught with a wand.

Severus was not prepared for death, but he certainly was not prepared for what happened next…

***

Daddy had told Harry to grab the thing in his pocket as soon as they were out of the room. But as usual, Harry accidentally forget to do what his Daddy told him.

That Wormtail man was trying to hold him down, Harry was angry. A rage he had never known before was making him forget his broken ankle and aching body. He struggled, and managed to tear himself away from the rodent like man.

The anger was making his head spin. He wanted to make this man hurt. He wanted to make everything better. He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of him. He grabbed a rock and threw it at the back of Wormtail’s head. It hit on target with a loud crack and the fat man rolled forwards, falling on his side, one hand still clamped around his wand.

Harry crept forwards, afraid that the man might still be conscious. He breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the man out cold. He pocketed the wand, and flashed the man a cold, hard look.

“That’s for making my Mummy cry because you let the bad man into our house” Harry whispered.

He saw Bellatrix standing by the fire, her eyes glazed over as she chanted some strange old words to no one in particular. Harry saw his Father, pale and bleeding profusely from a wound on his neck.

Harry wasn’t supposed to play with wands. That was what started all this trouble in the first place. Hadn’t he been trying to run away because Daddy had caught him using Mummy’s wand to do a prank that Marcus Flint and Warrington had forced him to do? Didn’t that all seem so silly now? That Harry was afraid of Daddy finding out he stole something valuable and gave it to those Slytherin bullies, who had then blackmailed him into helping them play all sorts of tricks on those deemed beneath them. Harry couldn’t think of anything more pointless.

It was all so trivial. His fears over the new baby- well, maybe that wasn’t trivial- Harry still wasn’t sure were he whether he’d fit in, but in the grand scheme of things Harry felt that the only important thing in the world was to save himself and Daddy. He didn’t think Daddy would be too mad if he borrowed the wand of a baddy, it’s not like Daddy was in the position to shout anyway, Harry thought and almost smiled to himself.

The Deatheater woman was still chanting. Harry pointed the wand at her, he couldn’t say any words because he didn’t know any spells. He wasn’t supposed to mess around with magic. They didn’t teach that sort of stuff at his school.

He harnessed onto the rage that had helped him conquer Wormtail. This woman had put him in pain, she had told him all those cruel things about Daddy that couldn’t possibly be true. She had hurt Daddy. Harry felt something bubble up inside him. His arm started to move on its own, pointing towards Bellatrix. His fingers tingled, and Harry knew instantly that some sort of spell had fired from his wand.

Bellatrix was frozen, and then she flew backwards and banged her head on the wall, falling to the ground like a rag doll. Her terrible eyes bulging upwards.

Harry limped over to Severus’ side and undid the bindings with the knife Bellatrix had used to cut his neck. Severus’ face was slack and expressionless. He was deathly still. Harry couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.

“Please Daddy, please open your eyes… I’ll good, I promise… If you could just wake up… I’ll never be bad again…” Harry sobbed, clinging to the man’s chest.

He felt in his pocket for a tissue to stem the blood from Severus’ neck. He found something hard and round and remembered the little sweet that Daddy had put in his pocket earlier, the thing that he was meant to have taken out as soon as they had left the cell.

Uh oh… He was a little bit late.

And with one hand grasping Daddy’s, the other making a tight sweaty fist around the lemon drop, Harry felt a peculiar sensation start to tug at his bellybutton…