He saw the blood, too much of it, staining the pristine tiled floor that he had scrubbed himself. He saw the dining table set as if it belonged in an operating room or a mortuary. He saw the pale skin of the boy, lying upon it. He saw his light blond hair turn silver in death.

He saw the man in robes, standing over the boy’s form. With a skeletal hand it beckoned him closer, until he could see the face of the boy – clearly dead. It was a face too familiar. He felt panic rise within him like a crimson monster to match the boy’s blood. He opened his mouth to scream but that skeletal hand clamped on his face. He couldn’t breathe.

Then the hood fell away. It was his uncle’s grinning maniac face – the look the man always had before he received a stern beating.

But as he was watching and struggling for air, the face changed. The skin and fat of Vernon Dursley melted away to create an oozing skeleton. A dark swirling mist rose above it, from within it. The dark reptilian eyes formed. He felt himself break away from what had once held the face of the greatest evil he had ever known.

Now he was facing down the greatest evil of all – this time without the Philosopher’s Stone – without his courage.

The rasping, disembodied voice spoke to him, snarling as the mist swirled and shifted violently. “You took everything from me, boy. You will die… as I take it back!”

The mist suddenly moved quickly through his body. He saw dots like splotches of paint across his vision. Then, the darkness enveloped him. Until suddenly, a bright green light appeared within his mind, a sound like death rushing on wings and a woman’s desperate scream.

“Not my baby! Take me instead! I beg you! Take me! Kill me! Not Harry! Please not Harry!”

Harold Severn Snape woke up with a gasp, sweet pouring down his face, mingling with the tears already there. Sitting up in his bed, he looked at the thick emerald drapes around the four-poster. He saw his small collection of books on the bedside table, the open window with the view of the quiet street below.

He looked across the room at his companion. The boy from the dream was there, sleeping roughly but breathing. No blood was in his sight.

Draco was still alive.

Harry smiled in relief.

Realizing that he needed perhaps a calming draught before sleep could take him again, Harry got out of his bed. He almost stepped on the room’s third occupant, lying on the rug beside Draco’s bed. Only Hermione’s fuzzy hair was seen flowing from under the thick coverlet that she had taken from the guest bedroom. Harry had had a feeling that she wouldn’t stay put down the hall all night.

Gingerly he made his way across the room, neither of his roommates stirring. Smiling at them, he left his room with the door shutting with a soft thud behind him. He looked forward and noticed that his father’s bedroom door was open and the bed not touched. Then he noticed the faint light coming from downstairs and began to walk down them. He quickly came to a halt as he heard a voice that belonged to neither his father nor Narcissa Malfoy.

“As much as young Draco’s condition concerns me, it is not the reason I am here, Severus.”

“Then, please enlighten me, Albus – for I would like to rest some, this night.”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he wondered what the Headmaster could be doing in their home. He had a feeling it couldn’t be good. His heart flipped but seating himself on the first hidden stair, he leaned in needing to hear what was being said.

“My boy, I fear you will not like the news I am to bring.”

“Then I feel doubly inclined to hear it,” Severus growled weakly.

Harry knew his father must be exhausted. It had not been uncommon that Draco had attacks of the sort. Only they usually let up on their own, especially with a dose or two of the draught Severus prepared. This time, Draco’s body had nearly refused help altogether and the boy had almost bleed to death. He would have – if not for Severus’s quick administration of Blood Replenishing potions along with his normal medication. It had taken nine and a half bottles of the Blood Replenishing potion to stop the bleeding and bring the child comfort. It had depleted Severus’ stores in order to make it stop. They had been desperate. Severus – finding no real need for that many in his home – had only made ten for the stores at Hogwarts Infirmary, housed safely inside is basement laboratory in Spinner’s End.

“The news concerns Harry.”

Harry clamped a hand over his mouth as his breathing became panicked.

“What news do you have of my son, Albus? If you are coming to tell me that you are a sadistic bastard who delights in having professors who want my child dead, I fear I already know.”

“This is not about Gilderoy.” The Headmaster sighed heavily. “Harry needs more protection than you can give him. Lily’s blood is the only thing that can protect him. I’ve talked to Petunia and–”

The sound of crashing glass was loud. Harry looked behind him, from his roost on the top step, hoping his friends would not wake. He didn’t hear a sound from them.

“Albus you cannot be suggesting–! My son will not become a slave for those Muggle monsters again!”

“There are charms to keep them from touching him. I had a severe talk with Vernon Dursley.”

“Did you offer him a lemon drop – or perhaps the entire bowl?” Severus snarled sarcastically, in the hate fullest tone Harry had ever heard him speak to the Headmaster in.

Indeed, Harry had never heard his father so angry. He had always known his father had a bad temper and he had always known that he was likely to fear it. Only now, it was no where near as frightening as what Dumbledore was proposing.

“My son will not go back,” Severus said, slowly, deliberately, frighteningly, calmly.

“It would give you time to yourself. Once Draco is back at Malfoy Manor–”

“And you also, propose to deliver my godson into Lucius’s hands once more. Albus, have you lost your bleeding mind?”

“Godson, he may be, but Draco is not your son. As long as Lucius remains his father, you have no say over him. Not even Narcissa does. It is the way our law works.”

“I am well aware of the law, Albus. Draco shall be my son if that is what it takes to keep him safe then so be it.”

“Severus, you can’t very well mean–”

“I very well mean everything I say.” Severus said flatly. Harry watched as his father walked into view, not seeing his son sitting on the stairs and opened the front door into the summer night. “Now leave.”

The Headmaster walked over to Severus. “I know the best thing for Harry. I am only acting for his benefit.”

“The hell you are,” growled the Potions Master as Dumbledore left Spinner’s End. Harry watched Severus calm himself physically before he shut the door.

Looking up, he caught his son’s eyes. With a sigh, Severus made his way up the stairs and past his child, whispering, “Come, son.”

Harry followed his father until they were inside Severus’s own room. Severus went to his nightstand and picked up the one picture of Lily he still had. He stared at it for a long time as his son stood in the doorway, waiting to be spoken to.

“How much did you hear, Harry?”

“I don’t want to go back... I don’t want you to leave me behind...” The boy said quietly, shuffling his feet, sniffling. He was looking down when Severus crossed the room swiftly and crushed Harry to his side.

“Child, I will never leave you behind. Never. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded into his father’s side, smiling through his tears.

***

August 17th

Needless to say, the next morning was entirely more pleasant than the night before.

Narcissa had arrived at Spinner’s End once more with no explanation as to why she had left her son alone in Severus’ care. Usually she was always at Draco’s side.

Severus, Harry and Hermione were downstairs eating their breakfast calmly – in fact, a breakfast that Hermione had cooked herself. Narcissa sat upstairs beside her son’s bed, gently administering various healing drafts, basic nutrient potions and several small cups of natural juices.

Draco sighed agitatedly, sitting up in the four-poster Severus had created out of thin air, which was identical to Harry’s. He pushed the glass of pumpkin juice away, with a sneer on his face.

“Mother, please. Anymore and I’ll sick up.”

“Very well,” Narcissa murmured, softly.

Draco looked at his mother strangely, wondering at her solemn attitude and far away eyes. “You’ve seen something?” Though it was a question, the look in Draco’s cool slate eyes said that he already knew.

“It’s not something I would very well like to happen.” She stated, looking out the window at the dreary dark clouds.

“You can’t do anything about it,” Draco stated matter-of-factly.

Narcissa’s thoughtful eyes looked back at her son. “Can’t I?”

“Mother, you’ve already escaped the Unspeakables once with Harry’s mother.” Draco said anxiously. “I need you to not be killed.”

She smiled at him, tears in her eyes, and patted his hand. “You don’t need me anymore, dragonet. You have Severus and Harry and Hermione, even.”

“I still need family.” Draco murmured, trying to fight back the tears in his eyes. I will not cry… I will not… not! He sniffled though, trying to make it seem like a sniff one did in anger.

“They are your family now, baby,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. Standing, she looked down at him. “I’m not leaving you forever, Draco.”

“How long?” His voice cracked. Tears spilled over.

“You’ll see in time,” She stated quietly, caressing his hair a bit before leaving the room with a soft click.

***

Narcissa stood outside the door of her son’s new room, perhaps his new home, if Severus cared enough. And she was sure that he did.

She walked down the stairs in a daze. She approached the kitchen and walked straight to Severus. Grabbing him by the lapels of his robes, she leaned in and whispered franticly. “He’s your son now… Please, love him too…”

Severus eyes widened and he pushed her away to confront her.

But Narcissa was no longer standing there.