The world took shape around them again, and Severus instinctively bent down before casting a Protego, prepared to face another attack.

Merlin only knew where that old fool Dumbledore had planned to land him fifteen years earlier… But one look around was enough to reassure him.

Staggering slightly, he righted himself, standing in the midst of the portraits watching him, intrigued. A fire was burning peacefully in the fireplace, and from his perch, Fawkes greeted them with a rustling of wings.

Dumbledore's office—where else?

With a sigh, he turned his attention to the still-unconscious cat in his arms.

He'd got it right—the Portkey had been fooled by Harry's Animagus form.

Without losing any time, Severus searched for a pulse…if Shadow tolerated superficial wounds better than Harry's human form, then obviously it didn't bode well for these.  His heart was beating weakly and irregularly.

Severus only hesitated for an instant.  The transformation would exhaust the boy a bit, but…he was out of time.  "Animagus revelio!"

Groaning, he slid the bag from his wounded shoulder.  It had survived as well, in the end.  The same thing couldn't be said for the potions on the inside…most had been destroyed by the Death Eater curses, or by knocking against the tombstones as he'd tried to escape from the cemetery.

Severus feverishly rummaged through the bag to find a potion still intact—finally!

He examined the boy lying on the rug.  His pallor was frightening, and he'd lost much too much blood.  His heart seemed to be faring better in this form, but….

One knee on the floor, Severus sat him up slightly.  Rubbing his damaged throat, he tried to make him swallow a potion.

"Harry, listen to me, one last effort, you have to swallow this.  Harry, try to stay awake for a moment. One more minute."

But that had already been a losing battle for many minutes now.

Cursing his broken phials, Severus was getting ready to fall back to what he considered his last resort when it came to healing—spells—when the sound of a door being shut made him swing brusquely around, wand in hand.

"Protego!"

"Unnecessary, Severus.  Thank Merlin, you're here…how is he?"

The familiar voice resonated like a gong in the Potion's master's mind.  Dumbledore was here.  This time, they were truly safe.

But he couldn't rest yet.  Harry still wasn't out of the woods.

"Poorly.  Where's Pomfrey?  He needs healing immediately; my potions didn't make it through the fight," said Severus, still holding onto the boy.

Frowning, Dumbledore murmured several incantations in Harry's direction.  The wounds stopped bleeding immediately, and his breathing became more regular.  Without wasting time, the Headmaster threw a fistful of Floo powder in the fireplace and plunged his head into the flames.  "Poppy!  We need you right away; bring all that you need and join us in my office!  Quickly please, Poppy!"

His tone brooked no delay, and in a few moments, the nurse came through the fireplace to stand in the Headmaster's office.

"Really, Albus, wouldn't it be simpler to…Merlin!" she squealed, as she noticed the figure on the rug.  "I thought that…what's happened to him?" she asked, casting a diagnostic charm.

"Just about everything, I suppose.  All they were able to imagine, in any case.  I made him drink an energy potion, but he's lost a great deal of blood."

"And he's not the only one," Poppy concluded, with a severe look for the professor.  "Several broken bones, dehydration, contusions, exhaustion, and especially the effects of Cruciatus.   And that's just the half of it.  Make him drink this," she said, handing several phials to Severus.

While the nurse cast the first of a series of healing spells, Severus did his best to make the boy swallow the potions.

"His heart rhythm is better, but he doesn't seem to want to regain consciousness," she said, her voice more anxious that Severus would've liked.

"He's exhausted his strength.  He's going to need plenty of sleep, in addition to continuous care," Poppy said.

"I'm sorry, Albus," the Potions master finally said, looking the Headmaster straight in the eyes.  "I wasn't able to act until the very last moment.  He spent two days with Lucius, Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord.  By the time I succeeded in getting us out of there, it was too late to minimize the damage.  I'm afraid his physical condition will quickly become the least of our problems."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but the witch was quicker; she had things to say as well.

"Severus Snape, you're incorrigible!  The boy is in good hands; I'd be grateful if you'd save your mea culpa until later, and go straight away and put yourself in your usual bed in the infirmary, instead of soaking the Headmaster's rug with blood!" she bellowed, her expression belying the harshness of her words.

Severus didn't know whether he should feel shocked or angry.

"It's nothing, just a shoulder wound, courtesy of Bellatrix."

"And another to your head.  And another to your leg.  And that's only what your robe permits me to see.  I suspect the only reason you wear black is to hide the extent of your wounds!"

Severus groaned.  What a time to critique his choice of wardrobe.  Had he really been wounded several times?  He hadn't been aware of it.

"I think Poppy has summarized the situation well.  It's out of the question to reproach yourself for anything, my boy.  You've pulled off a remarkable feat, and it won't be kept in the dark.  Might I presume that your career as a spy has come to its end?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus nodded. He was going to have a great many things to tell, and he felt fatigue cloud his mind as the tension he'd had to maintain recently finally fell away.

Still supporting the boy's head, he checked his pulse and breathing again.  He seemed less pale now, his features more relaxed.  The road ahead for him was going to be a long one, before he'd be able to feel normal again…if that were to happen one day.

"You can leave him, Severus," said Poppy Pomfrey more gently.  "He can be moved now; I'm going to take him to the infirmary."

"No!" Severus cried, a hand on the boy's forehead, startling the nurse.

"Albus, the situation is complicated; we're going to need all available wards. No one can know where Harry is!  It won't be long before they know anyway, but we must buy some time." He frowned, looking up at Dumbledore.

"Albus, would you have a Pensieve?  I'm not certain I'll be able to accurately relate everything that's recently occurred.  A Pepper-up Potion or two wouldn't be untimely.  In any case, the Dark Lord wasn't content to just torture Potter.  He sought to destroy him in every way, more particularly by stealing his powers.  We were treated to another of those little ceremonies Voldemort seems so fond of holding in the middle of cemetaries .  I prepared a Theft of Magic potion that he used on the boy.

"You know these potions, Albus.  They transfer the magic and strength of one wizard to another.  Voldemort used it to reinforce his connection to the Death Eaters.  He couldn't kill Harry without ending the ritual at the same time.  He has three days left to finish it.  I don't need to tell you what that means…."

"Voldemort and his henchmen are going to do all that they can to finish with Harry in the next three days," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Severus nodded.  If Poppy could only go to collect the potions in his office….

"You have nothing further to worry about, my boy.  Rest.  We're going to watch over both of you."

The Potions master groaned again.  Did he seem like a teenager in need of protection?  On the other hand….  "Potter is staying with me," he said, looking the Headmaster in the eyes, and challenging him to disagree.

A gleam sparked in the Headmaster's eyes, and he nodded.  "Very well, Severus.  Harry will remain with you."

And it seemed to the Potions master that as usual, Dumbledore had understood more than he should've from Severus' explanation.

                                                     ooooOOOOoooo

Severus had only a confused recollection of having traveled through the fireplace to return to his rooms.

Nothing had changed since his departure at the beginning of the holidays; still, it seemed as if something about the familiar rooms was different…and that was before Pomfrey decided to add a bed to his room for Potter.

They were there, now, in the dungeon, safe in Dumbledore's keeping; he had to remind himself that everything was all right.  But everything really wasn't all right….

Beside him, he could hear Harry breathing, who still hadn't regained consciousness.  Regular, still wheezing a bit.  The throat wound that Bellatrix had inflicted was still oozing, even after Pomprey's attention, as well as the grotesque smile that Lucius had tried to draw there….

Severus shook his head.  He wasn't at all certain about pushing the boy to wake up.  That empty, hopeless expression the boy'd worn during the ceremony.  What could they've done to him?  He was acquainted with the limitless imaginations of the Death Eaters when it came to torture, and Voldemort had seemed particularly pleased with Bellatrix and Malfoy.

There was only a week left until the start of term. Would Potter be in any shape, even physically, to attend classes?

There were still things to come before that day arrived.  He was under no illusions about the fact that if Voldemort had to pull out all the stops, it would be in the next three days, and the Death Eaters would've never been more motivated than they were now.  Hogwarts was well-protected, Dumbledore saw to that, but the entire affair had proven that the wards weren't infallible.

If only he could find an antidote to that potion, then perhaps…

Frowning, he arose from his chair and opened the door leading to his private library.  Perhaps he could find something…on the defense against the dark arts shelf, of course.

Behind him, he could hear stealthy footsteps.

"I seem to have heard Poppy tell you to rest while she went for the potions in your office, Severus?" Dumbledore said.

"Which is the only reason why I myself am not brewing fresh potions," retorted the Potions master. "I suspect that woman of possessing coercive methods vastly superior to those of the professors in this school."

"You're wounded and too exhausted to realize, my boy, but I think it truly wiser for you to put off your reading until later."  The tone of voice was definitely that of the Headmaster this time.

Severus groaned, pulled a book from the shelf and began to leaf through it. He was never too tired to brew a potion; it'd been years since he'd been trying to instill this notion into his students' heads.

"I'm the one who brewed that potion, Albus.  I must find a way to neutralize its effects…or at the very least shorten its duration.  Which I would've done from the start, if I'd only had a chance to—"

"Severus." The sharp voice made him look up.  "You did all that you could.  Now, if you want to help Harry, I need to hear your report.  I'm still having trouble believing that the Portkey worked after all these years.  It would seem…yes, I was very negligent towards both of you. I owe you both an apology, and doubly to you, Severus," Dumbledore sighed.

The Potions master frowned. "It's best not to leave Harry alone," he said, gesturing with his chin toward the door.

Dumbledore nodded, and without a word, he returned to sit in the bedchamber.

"I'll admit that several details of this affair escape me," said Snape.  "How was Harry able to be kidnapped by Lucius?  At the Ministry, no less?" And in your keeping his expression clearly communicated.

The guilt-ridden look that Dumbledore gave him was enough to quell Severus' growing anger.

"There's no explanation other than the one you've thought of, Severus.  I was not sufficiently vigilant," replied the Headmaster.  "Harry was by my side while I discussed the details of the interview with Cornelius Fudge…I didn't see him walk away.  I don't know why he wanted to leave; he seemed very troubled by what'd happened at the Manor just before our departure."

Severus ran a hand across his face.  He was really feeling tired now. "I know.  It's all my fault," he sighed.

He felt a hand on his arm.

"It would seem Harry's had an influence on you," Dumbledore said gently.

Yes, thought Snape, that was for certain this time; Potter had really had a bad influence on him.

"He didn't react as I'd hoped," he explained.  "At least not the result I expected.  Voldemort took advantage of the weakness I'd created in Potter's mind, to control him and push him into Lucius' hands.  That took only seconds and he tried not to attract any attention.  I don't know why all of a sudden the insufferable brat took my words to heart," he finished with an annoyed gesture that reawakened the wound in his shoulder.

What was Pomfrey doing, then?  An official inspection of his office?

"Here's the beginning of the story," Dumbledore sighed.  "It would seem that with the best of intentions, we both failed Harry.  It's clear now that I should've never agreed to the hearing.  But let's move on.  Were you there when Harry was taken to Voldemort?"

Snape nodded.  "At Malfoy Manor. I was the one who should've been at the Ministry, if I had responded sooner to the summons."  With another gesture of irritation, he swept the idea aside.  The whole affair was a huge fiasco from start to finish.  Or almost had been.

"Something aroused the Dark Lord's suspicions when Lucius retuned with Harry.  I was able to buy some time, but I was not permitted to stay with the boy.  I'm ignorant of what they could've done to him during those two days…when next I saw him, he was catatonic.  He didn't react, he didn't seem to see anything around him. I thought he'd recognized me when we came face to face, but I might've been wrong.  There's not much about those two days of which I'm certain," he finished.

"Be that as it may," said Dumbledore," I'm relieved that the Portkey worked despite the wards."

"It didn't work," Severus replied tersely.

"I'm not sure I understand…"

"You heard me. It didn't work.  Not until we were outside the perimeter of the wards.  And believe me. It was a long way," he said ironically.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment, incredulous.  "Do you mean to tell me that you fled with Harry Potter, right out from under the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?  Alone?"

"A fairytale to make Gilderoy Lockhart green with envy," Snape sneered.  "Yes, I snatched Potter right in the middle of a Death Eater gathering.  And no, I wasn't alone.  Definitely not alone."  For a moment, he played with a long lock of his hair, hesitating over what he should say.  Or believe.  In reality, he didn't want to relate that episode…  Lily…  That moment belonged only to him…and to Harry.

He shook his head.  There was no place for sentimentalism here. There had never been.

"The Marauders' last stand, I suppose one could call it," Severus murmured.

His eyes met the undecipherable ones of Dumbledore.  "You're right, Severus; perhaps a Pensieve would be useful," he said gently.

Snape allowed himself a slight smile.  He couldn't be cross with the old man for finding it confusing.  He himself wasn't entirely certain of what'd happened that evening.

At that instant, the door opened and Poppy Pomfrey burst in breathlessly, loaded down with potions.  "Albus, I believe there's something you should see," she said with a pointed look at the Headmaster.

"Poppy?" he answered.

"Really.  Professor Snape, if you'll take these potions yourself, this one as well, and make Potter swallow the rest of them.  Now, Albus, if you'll follow me?"

With a last look at the Potions professor, Dumbledore fell in behind the nurse and left.

Finally alone, Severus let out a sigh of relief.  First things first…Harry.

Seated on the bed, he sat the sleeping teenager up, taking care not to worsen his wounds.  One by one, he emptied the potions down the boy's throat, murmuring words of encouragement that he knew the boy couldn't hear.

When he laid him carefully back to the bed, the boy seemed less pale, but his emaciated features and the multiple marks scattered over his body left no doubt about the state of his health.

The professor pursed his lips.  All he could do now was wait…and brew potions.

Grimacing, he finally decided to take off his robes and the shirt sticking to his skin, soaked with blood.  Bellatrix had definitely had the upper hand, but Poppy was right, he could feel his body burning in different places.   Swallowing the potions in single gulps, Severus got out clean clothing and quickly applied some cooling charms to himself.

All things considered, he'd managed to get off very lightly.  An interrupted Avada Kedavra and not a single Cruciatus…the week had almost been a calm one.

Sitting again, he undertook an inventory of what he'd just consumed.  Blood-Replenishing Potion, Wound Healing, Painkilling Potion.  That old bag had forgotten the Pepper-up!  Did he have to do everything himself?

And what was Dumbledore up to?  Fatigue was beginning to gain the upper hand, and he didn't want to leave Potter unattended.

Before he had a chance to leave on the search for other potions, the door opened and Dumbledore appeared.  One look at the Headmaster's face was enough to confirm what Severus suspected.

"The Dark Mark?" he asked tonelessly.

The wizard nodded. "You and Harry are no longer safe here, not as much as I'd like.  All will be fine for tonight, but tomorrow, we'll have to hide you elsewhere.  Lucius Malfoy has his ways into Hogwarts, and with the support of the Ministry, I cannot guarantee that he won't manage, one way or another, to become a threat, even here in the heart of the castle.

Severus nodded.  In danger at Hogwarts…he'd never had this feeling, and paradoxically, the solution was simple.

"Snape Manor is protected by the Fidelius Charm.  We will be out of reach there," he proposed.

Once again, Dumbledore sighed. "History repeats itself," he murmured, his eyes suddenly older by ten years.

Or younger by fifteen, Severus thought, which, now that he thought about it, looked about the same.

"I know you must be tired, and Poppy asked me to make sure you drink this Dreamless Sleep Potion," he continued, "but before that, I would like to hear the end of your story, Severus, if you have the strength.  And if it's all right with you, I'll bring a Pensieve."

But the Potions master had straightened, indignant.  "That woman has no common sense at all if she thinks I'm going to sleep while Hogwarts is being threatened by Death Eaters!  I have a potion to brew, and the sooner it's finished, the sooner Potter will be out of danger.  As much as he can be, in any case.  This boy's always got problems."

"Severus," the Headmaster replied calmly, "how long since you last slept?"

Snape swept the argument away with a wave of his hand. "That's why Pepper-up Potion was invented.  Unless you have another Potions master handy, Albus, I don't see another solution; and in any case, I was the one who made that potion.  I would've thought your protégé's life more important to you than that," he said bitterly.

"Your life is just as important," replied Dumbledore, slightly startling the professor.

"My life is not in danger," Severus answered, avoiding the Headmaster's eyes.

"I know you take Harry's health very much to heart, Severus, even more so since this summer.  But you've lost a great deal of blood and you're out of strength, whether you admit it or not.  You must rest; we're all going to need you, Harry in particular.  You're of no use at all in the state you're in."

Dumbledore's tone of voice, even more than his words, made an impact on Severus.

Emptying his lungs, he fell back in his chair, his hands on his knees.  "She confided him to me, Albus. Lily.  She's the one who saved us.  Everything was over; we no longer had a chance, but she made one for us, she succeeded in freezing time and carrying Shadow to me so I could use the Portkey.  She carried him to the house to put him in my arms."

When he looked up, Dumbledore was looking at him again with that impenetrable gaze.

"Severus…whatever happened tonight…I've no doubt about what you believed you saw, but Lily is at most a ghost now, the pale reflection of what she once was…"

"You don't need to remind me," Severus growled.

"What I'm mean to say, my boy, is that if Lily were there tonight, and I truly wish to believe that she was, it's not impossible that she was able to play with time.

"But for her to carry Harry?  That's impossible; you know very well that ghosts have no real hold on our world," he finished.

"Still, she did it," retorted Severus.  "I couldn't leave the house; the wards prevented me, and Shadow was nearly thirty meters from there.  Lily froze time, took Harry in her arms, and carried him to me."

"The house at Godric's Hollow, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Realizing the Headmaster hadn't understood a word he'd said, Severus made an irritated gesture toward the Pensieve.  "Give me that," he grumbled.  "Let it be done with, and I can finally get to work on this bloody potion."

"Severus," Dumbleedore replied, his eyes hardening suddenly.  "Finding an antidote for the Theft of Magic Potion will very likely take you months of research, and its effects on Harry will have dissipated well before that.  Now, all you can do for Harry and myself is to put the entirety of you memories in this Pensive and then sleep!  Is that clear enough for you?"

Severus frowned as he stiffened in his chair; he'd not abandoned one tyrannical master, only to end up with an authoritative Dumbledore.

But now that he thought about it, the old wizard wasn't wrong.  Severus was deluding himself if he hoped to find an antidote tonight…and the healer in him knew that he needed sleep more than potions.

There was still another good reason for him to refuse to sleep now.

"I want to be here when Harry wakes up."

"I will stay here," Dumbledore replied, softening.  "I'll come and warn you."

"No, you don't understand.  I want to be here, the moment he opens his eyes. It's important."

Dumbledore gave him a questioning look, but then he could only shrug.  If the man didn't understand, Severus wasn't going to explain it to him.

"Done," the old wizard gave in.  "In any case, I'm going to need to study your memories."

Severus nodded.  Taking the Pensieve, he lifted his wand and began to gather all his memories of the past two days.

When he finally handed the basin to Dumbledore, he suddenly felt lighter, and ready to succumb to sleep.

"Thank you, Severus. You've been a great help.  I'm sure Lily would agree."

Frowning, the Potions master shifted his gaze to the boy who was still sleeping soundly.

He had to know.  He wanted to see the boy's eyes when he awakened, to be certain that the lost look he'd worn in the cemetery had only been a passing illusion.

And from the time he regained consciousness, he wanted Harry to know that he was no longer alone.  That Severus would never leave him again.

Afterward, only afterward could Severus sleep.

While Dumbledore immersed himself in his memories, Severus transfigured his armchair, and settled in at the boy's side, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

Outside, the Death Eaters were skulking around the castle. The Death Eaters, to whom Severus would never again belong.

                                                                  ooooOOOOoooo

He'd given his all, up until the very end; he'd given all his strength and he'd not realized it was failing him.

He only knew that he had to wait for the Man in Black, and that a creature that wasn't a man stalked him from behind, ready to kill him.

And then the blackness.  Softly and soundlessly, he'd slipped into unconsciousness.  Then something had glittered, and he felt himself floating, and everything around him was white.  That was what he'd seen.

She had long hair, a smooth face and her eyes as she looked him were both gentle and sad.

"Everything will be fine."

He wanted to believe her.  All around him, the world had burst apart like a shattered mirror.  He no longer remembered exactly how, but he knew he was more alone than ever.

"He'll take care of you," she said, pointing to a far-off figure.

The Man in Black.

Yes, his Man in Black was there…he'd come, just as he'd promised. He'd saved him.

Something warm surrounded him, and he saw the young woman's face move away.

"Everything will be fine now, my baby.  Everything will be fine."

Then the blackness again.

And the voices…

"They're all dead, Harry.  Because of you.  All dead.  You'll never be sorry enough…."

The blue eyes pursued him, even in the blackness.

"Pathetic, Potter."

Dumbledore…He'd come after him.  Hit him.  McGonagall too….

"Why, Harry?"

He didn't have an answer.  There'd been nowhere to hide...wherever he went, they'd find him.  Vernon was dragging him out of his cupboard, belt in hand.  Sirius was looking at him scornfully, evicting him from Grimmauld Place.

The Burrow was destroyed, and the dead bodies had nothing to say to him, but their pale, lifeless faces, in the midst of the smoking ruins, accused him without saying a word.

Hogwarts.  The castle had been his home since he'd arrived.  But Hogwarts was Dumbledore's school, and now, the old wizard's hate for him persisted, and he refused to be in Harry's presence.

He understood them.  After all, even his parents hadn't wanted him….

Crucio.

And Bellatrix was laughing…laughing….

And the knife kept slashing at his skin…

                                                            ooooOOOOoooo

Snape had allowed himself to fall into a semi-sleep, his eyes half-open, but the boy's agitation woke him completely.

Harry was moaning in his sleep, his hand weakly gripping the sheet.

Bending over him, Severus put a hand to his forehead.  The boy had a fever.  That was something to think about.

"Harry, do you hear me?  Everything is fine, you're at Hogwarts.  Calm down, you're safe."

His voice seemed to instantly calm the teenager, but not enough for him to open his eyes.  His skin was damp and his breathing irregular.

"Albus, could you stay with him for a moment?  I have what's needed in the next room."

The Headmaster nodded and went to the bed, then took the boy's hand in his own. "There, there, my boy, everything will be fine," he took his turn to murmur.

But unlike with Severus, his words seemed to alarm the teenager even more; he began to kick out with an energy ten times his usual strength, trying desperately to get away from the Headmaster.

In the blink of an eye, Sevuers was beside him.  "Harry, everything's fine.  It's only Professor Dumbledore…we're here, no one will hurt you," he promised, with a hand on the boy's forehead to hold him in place and keep the wound in his throat from being made worse.  Frozen, he seemed to be in the grip of a dilemma.

"My boy, you're at Hogwarts, safe and sound," Dumbledore added calmly, patting the hand he'd let go.

Soon, Harry was struggling again, evading the Headmaster's touch.

Seeing the blood soaking into the sheet, Severus rapidly scanned the boy's wounds: several had reopened due to his agitation, and were bleeding again.  Without hesitating, he wrapped the boy in his arms, holding him against himself to keep him still.

"Quiet.  Quiet there, Shadow.  Everything is fine, I'm here, no one will hurt you, I'm here," he murmured at Harry's ear.

The boy moaned but relaxed his arms, letting his head fall back to Severus' shoulder.

Severus slightly loosened his grasp and ran a hand through the boy's hair.  "There.  That's very good, you're safe, I promise you."

Continuing to stroke Harry's hair, he murmured a quick spell to clean and re-close the wounds.  Especially his throat had suffered from his abrupt movement.  He was going to need Scar-healing salve.

Lifting his head again, he suddenly remembered the Headmaster was there, and couldn't help but blush slightly.

But one look at Dumbledore was enough to reassure him; far from the mockery he expected to see there, it was a glimmer of sadness that passed through the old man's eyes. 

"Albus, could you go to my office and get some salve?  A white jar, on the shelf…and some fever potions and Blood-Replenishing ones as well.  You won't have any trouble recognizing them, I think."

The old man nodded and left without a word.

With him gone, Harry seemed to relax a bit more. Sitting back on the bed, Severus was thoughtful.  How unaware was the boy?  Was it really possible that….

Dumbledore once again crossed the stoop into the room, and it seemed to Severus that the boy tensed.

"Fever potion, please," Severus said.

The Headmaster held out a red-orange phial that Severus carefully put to the boy's lips, supporting his chin with his other hand.  "Harry, please, do it for me, you must swallow this."

The boy moved his head slightly, but didn't otherwise react.

"Severus, do you want me to help you?" Dumbledore proposed.

He'd barely spoken when the boy became agitated again, and the Potions master had to tighten his grasp to keep Harry from hurting himself.

Groaning, Harry seemed to want to both flee from the Headmaster's voice and hide against Severus, who was holding him against him.

"Albus, I believe it'd be best if you stay away," he suggested, reflexively stroking the boy's arm to calm him.

Reluctantly, Dumbledore withdrew to the other end of the room, his step heavy.

Severus thought it particularly ironic to see Precious Potter hide against him to get away from the Headmaster, but he didn't quite experience the triumph that he should have.

Harry'd been afraid of Dumbledore…the wizard whom the boy had always seemed to consider as a sort of too-indulgent grandfather, accepting only the Headmaster's and McGongall's authority; here he was now, dreading his presence….

What could Malfoy and Lestrange have done to him, then?

Shaking his head, he took the potion he'd placed on the bedside table.  After all, it'd be easier to hold his head this way.  "Drink, Harry, this is for the fever.  Very good.  This is for your blood, now…  That's perfect."

Come to think of it, he'd never showered the boy with so many compliments in five years of class.  But things were different now.  This was his cat.  His boy.

It was his turn to swallow hard.  Very well, he'd said it, or at least thought it.  Because yes, it was how he thought of him.  For the first time in a long while, he'd found a real reason to keep on fighting, and he wasn't going to abandon him.  He wanted it this way…and Lily did too.

And speaking of Lily.

"Albus, did you find what you wanted to see in the Pensieve?" he asked the Headmaster.

The man nodded.  "Your conduct was positively heroic, my boy," he answered.

Severus groaned.  What was the old fool thinking now?  He'd done nothing more than what he'd done so many times before…and it'd taken him two days to save Potter.

"As I told you earlier, I owe you my apologies," Dumbledore continued.  "I should've long ago given you a new Portkey, a more powerful one…and I should've foreseen that circumstances might require that you carry a passenger.  I almost caused both of you to be lost, it's unforgivable."

Severus sighed; if this night should turn into a group therapy session, they'd never get to the end of it.

"Albus, we all made mistakes, myself first and foremost.  The important thing is that Harry is safe now.  Did you see…"

But the name remained lodged in his throat.

"Lily?" Dumbledore finished for him. "Yes, I saw her."  Under the professor's glittering eyes, he went on, "There's no doubt about the fact that Lily and the Marauders definitely came to your rescue, Severus.  I'm still not sure I understand how all that managed to unfold…but in more than one sense, I believe that we've come full circle."

"You don't think she'll be coming back again?" Snape asked quickly.

"I think Lily finished what she came here to do," Dumbledore said gently.

The Potions master didn't reply, but caught himself stroking the boy's hair again.  

"You were also correct that Lily brought you Shadow, as you call him," continued the Headmaster.

Snape shot him a look, a mixture of exasperation and satisfaction.

"However, she didn't carry him in the true sense of the word.  You missed a detail, and considering the circumstances, it'd be hard to fault you for that."

"Might I know what it was?" Snape asked curtly.

"Just as I told you," Dumbledore said with a small smile.  "Spirits, ghosts and other apparitions cannot take hold of the physical realm.  Freeze time for an instant, yes.  Carry a body, even that of a cat, is unfortunately impossible.  By the same means, the Marauders were able to frighten the Death Eaters, but not wound them physically.

"Lily used the same strategy that fist time she entrusted Harry to you, a few weeks ago."

"The bracelet," Severus murmured.

"Yes, the bracelet," Dumbledore confirmed. "Harry was still wearing it, and it's a good thing. Miss Granger deserves a medal for her find."

"She'll have it," Snape agreed thoughtfully.  "I always thought that child was much too intelligent for her own good…at least as intelligent as Lily."

Dumbledore nodded.  "Women have this way of knowing what's good for those they love."  And seeing Harry with his face pressed against his professor's shoulder, Dumbledore didn't doubt it for an instant.

                                                           ooooOOOOoooo

He'd come…the one who'd thrown him out, he was there again, close to him.

Harry wanted to flee, but he couldn't manage it.  It was like running through thick mud; he knew the man didn't want anything to do with him, that he'd done something bad, that he didn't have the right to be there, but what could he do?  He didn't want to be hurt again…

And then he'd heard the other voice.  The one he dreaded and sought at the same time.   He'd sent the threatening presence away and then had talked to him.

What he'd said, exactly, he wasn't sure…but he was there.  He was speaking softly, as if he were purring, and he was there, arms around him, to protect him.

Protect him?  Really?

He knew that voice, it was the Man in Black's.  The man who shouted at him in class, who hated him for what his father had done…and his black eyes glittered with contempt.

The same eyes that'd burned with worry just a few hours ago.  Hours? Days?  Weeks?  Didn't matter.

No, what was important was…was this the same man?  What was he supposed to think?  Friend or enemy?

But he couldn't have a friend; they were all dead.  They hated him, they'd thrown him out of everywhere….

Of everywhere except the dungeon.  By the fire, the cauldrons were heating up, and the Man in Black was busy with his potions.

The Potions master.  Snape.  Snape hated him, he knew it.  But he'd saved his life several times, and….

He'd let him stay at the Manor.  He hadn't thrown him out.

Except when Dumbledore had come for him.  Then he'd become the scornful Potions professor again, and had told him that he had to leave.

But Harry'd seen him after that, when Lucius had taken him away, Snape was there, somewhere; he was watching over him and waiting for the chance to save him.

That was really it, wasn't it?  He couldn't hate him, not his Snape; it'd all been an act, a sinister comedy, but indispensable.

He couldn't throw him out.  He was the only thing that'd held him together when the world seemed to fall in ruins around him, the only thing that'd kept him from going mad, from giving up.  He would smell his scent, the comfort of his arms when he carried him, and the tone of his voice when he talked to him, the one he kept for Harry alone….

It had to be true.

For once, for one single time, something had to turn out right.  He wasn't asking for anything more; besides, he didn't have anything else.

Bit by bit, and in spite of himself, he felt himself being pulled from this emptiness that was both frightening and comfortable, in which he'd bathed for what seemed like an eternity.  H could hear the fire, the sound of breathing close to him, and that scent that was so familiar.

Summoning all of his will, he finally managed to open his eyes, blinking to make the world a bit less blurry.

When at last he could make something out, the first thing he saw was Snape's face, his features drawn, bending over him, and those black eyes brimming with worry, watching him, almost fearfully.

Then Snape spoke, just two words.  "Forgive me."

And with the slightest of smiles on his face, Harry Potter closed his eyes again.