Harry awoke with a scream, his face pushed into his pillow, the dense padding pressed against his tongue. He pushed himself up on his hands, tugging his legs under him so he was kneeling. Panting, he looked around fretfully, hoping that he’d been able to stop his cries in time. His face felt flushed and he bushed his fingertips across his pillow, feeling the dampness of his sweat soaking the cotton case. He wiped his sleeve across his face, forgetting for a moment the horrible bruising he had suffered, and he stopped suddenly, cringing, waiting for the pain. When he felt nothing, he tentatively touched his cheek, noticing the once bloated skin now felt almost normal. Sliding his legs out from under him, he edged off the bed and carefully rested both feet on the floor, not wanting to buckle under his own weight like he did earlier, but his legs felt strong, and he stood with ease. He padded into the bathroom and turned on the light, almost gasping as he turned to the mirror, and assessed his face.

The bruising was almost gone with only a pale yellowy green smudge as proof than any damage even existed. He ran a finger across the remaining discolouration, pushing gently, then more firmly against his cheek, happy to find that the pain was almost gone as well. The bruises from his neck had almost faded too, though he didn’t test the level of pain there. He couldn’t bring himself to put a hand to his throat, even his own, and the idea of it sent a shiver through him, and he ran one hand down the opposite arm, smoothing the goosebumps that had appeared at the thought.

His eyes were glassy, the wetness on his pillow very likely tears as well as perspiration. He was pale, his face drawn and weary, and he remembered looking in the mirror before he came to the manor, standing in Snape’s bathroom staring at himself, and he had to admit, as bad as he’d look then, he looked an awful lot worse now.

There was a light knock at the bedroom door and Harry’s head spun towards the sound, and there was a moment of silence before he heard it creak open. Without thinking, Harry reached out and pushed the bathroom door closed with a loud click, pushing the little button in the centre of the handle until it snapped into place, locking it.

He heard footsteps, and he backed away, not really knowing what to do. He’d shut himself in a bathroom, hardly a safe place to be cornered by an angry Professor, and his eyes fell to the toilet, his stomach lurching at the thought of Snape repeating his uncle’s act of abuse. He’d probably seen that in Harry’s memories too.

He gasped as the door handle rattled noisily, and it only took a moment before he heard the Professor’s voice, a muffled Alohamora, and the handle rattled again, this time giving way. The door swung open, and there stood Snape wearing black slacks and a black button-down shirt with long sleeves. He looked less menacing without his robes, but was still a fearsome sight, and Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry indeed as he lowered his eyes to the floor.

Severus took in the scene before him. Harry stood against the wall in the bathroom refusing to make eye contact, his hands at his chest clutching each other as if a lifeline.

“Harry.” he said gently. “I’ve brought you something to eat.”

“Yes, Sir.” the boy replied, not taking his eyes off the floor. Severus pressed his lips together, unwavering in his desire not to frighten the boy any further.

“If you are feeling up to it, perhaps you would like to come out and try some soup.” Severus coaxed. “Della prepared something special for you I believe.”

Harry nodded mutely, but lifted his head, his eyes meeting the Professor’s for a brief moment, and in that instant, Severus caught the emotion in the boy’s eyes, wretched and heartbreaking, eyes that held fear and the anxiety of mistrust, and it was all he could do not to gasp out loud as Harry slowly left his position against the wall and walked towards him. He backed out of the bathroom, giving Harry plenty of room to exit, positioning himself at the door. Harry walked slowly out of the bathroom, not wishing to get too close to the Professor, so he stood on the other side of the bed, the huge mattress acting as a barrier between him and the man who had betrayed him.

The two stood in awkward silence, and Harry reached a thin arm up to rub gently at his left cheek. The bruising had been the most severe there, most likely from the Professor’s savage backhands, and Harry couldn’t help but shudder at the recollection of the heavy hand against his face. It seemed everything, every touch, every object brought back a memory of the past few days.

The clinking of cutlery pulled him from his thoughts, and he watched in tentative interest as the Professor tended to a tray on the bedside table. He removed the lid from a small crockery pot, the tendrils of steam rising up into the man’s face, and the pungent aroma of stewed meat and spiced lentils filled the stale air of the bedroom.

“Soup.” Snape announced, turning to Harry.

Harry’s stomach lurched painfully. He hadn’t been given food in several days, not that it mattered. He’d gone without food much longer than that. It wasn’t the waiting that made it so hard, it was the way his stomach cramped afterwards, his belly so desperate for food that the introduction of solids was met with searing spasms as his stomach began the almost forgotten act of digestion. Even though it had only been a few days, his body obviously remembered the past starvation, and he moved his hand to his abdomen, the warm palm slipping under his shirt, rubbing at his stomach as if it were possible to soothe the ache away.

But it wasn’t.

“Harry.” Snape said gently. “Harry come and eat something, please.”

Slowly, body ridged and tensed, Harry skirted the bed, one hand still against his stomach, the other on the bed, fingers lightly grazing the bare mattress as he made his way around to the Professor. He stopped just shy of the man, eyes downcast, hands together now, fidgeting nervously at his chest, fingers entwined. Waiting.

Severus took a few steps back from the bed and nonchalantly made his way over to the window where he began a drawn out task of pulling back the heavy curtains. The grey morning light poured into the room, the glass speckled with droplets from the erratic rains that had grazed the island most of the morning. He glanced back at Harry, relived to see the boy taking up the spoon and peering into the steaming bowl.

He had to find out what had happened to his chi…no, not his child. Snape narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Why on earth did that thought keep cropping up in his mind? Of course, he had resigned himself to the fact that he did care about Harry, and yes, it was true that finding Harry in such a condition upon his arrival at the manor did stir something within him. A certain protective spirit perhaps, but nothing he wouldn’t feel for one of his Slytherins.

It had been a thought he had repeated many times the night before, pacing the floor of his laboratory as he pictured the trunk in Harry’s room, the debris of a broom that had obviously not carried the young man into the air as Craig had declared. Seeing Harry’s pale face marred by such horrific bruises, the raggedness of each breath, the faint pulse that threatened to halt more than a few times while he and Poppy had worked. There was a feeling in his chest, something that writhed and agonized deep inside him as he watched Harry lay in such a state, and it wasn’t until he was pacing the cold, stone floor in the bowels of the manor that he admitted the emotion.

He had been scared. Terrified actually. Terrified that the injuries were too severe. Terrified that Harry would be taken from this world.

Taken from him.

It had taken the better part of an hour for Severus to allow the whisper of a thought be affirmed, even to himself, alone in the depths. He sat motionless at his desk, hunched over in thought, cloaked in the multihued illumination of the laboratory as he went over what he had found in Harry’s room, over the boy’s behaviour.

Why on earth would Craig lie about Harry’s injuries? Perhaps Craig had involved the two in a dangerous activity and made up the falsehood to avoid persecution. But in the end, after hours of fruitless assumptions he was still no closer to the truth. Not even a ghost of an idea had formed.

The creaking of the door caused him to abandon his reverie, and Severus turned towards the entrance, his eyes settling on Harry for a brief moment, seeing the boy’s shoulders tense, the spoonful of soup returned to the bowl as he too turned towards to door.

“Hey, kid.” Craig whispered as he entered the room, offering the boy a bright smile. “You’re looking better.”

“Indeed he is.” Snape said loudly, forcing an impartial expression on his face as he walked across the room, stopping a few feet from Harry, who was staring at Craig with a gaze that Severus could only interpret as hopeful.

Craig paused, his eyes shifting a little, an almost inaudible gasp of surprise leaving his lips at hearing the Professor’s voice. He squared his shoulders and turned towards Snape.

“Good to see you again, Severus.” Craig replied, voice wavering ever so slightly before directing another smile at Harry.

“And to what do we owe the immense pleasure of your company?” Snape asked, desperately trying to keep the sarcastic drawl from tainting his words. He was still nowhere near solving the mystery of the past few days, and as suspect as the young man was, perhaps there was more information Severus could garner from him. After years of clandestine activity, one thing he had learned was that sooner or later lies had their way of exposing themselves.

“I came for a visit.” Craig explained, licking his lips quickly. “I’ve been worried.” Snape eyes darkened as he watched Craig give a brief tug at his earlobe before stuffing both hands into his pockets. Whatever reason this man had come to visit Harry, it wasn’t due to concern.

“How kind of you.” Snape replied. “But Harry is just about to partake in some lunch, and as I’m sure you can imagine after an event such as this it would do little for his health to avoid a meal.

“Oh, yeah, of course not.” Craig agreed, turning to nod at Harry. “You know, I’d be happy to stay here with him if you wanted to go and get things done, Severus. I bet you have lots to catch up on.”

Severus’ nostrils flared in annoyance, though his face kept its impassive air as he turned towards Harry.

“I believe I will remain with Harry.” he said calmly. “There is nothing to be done that cannot be achieved by Della, however I do thank you for your concern.”

He watched as Harry swallowed noticeably before pulling his stare from Craig and setting his eyes on the top button of Snape’s shirt.

“If it’s alright with you, Sir, I wouldn’t mind Craig staying please, if that’s ok.” His voice was soft, so naive, as if he were a small child instead of a young man of twelve, and it pained Severus to think that the boy had never been given a chance to grow and find himself, but instead locked away in solitude.

It was only because of the emotion of those thoughts that Severus nodded slowly, his eyes still glued to Craig, who shifted uncomfortably before smiling tentatively at the wizard.

“Very well.” Snape said carefully, not wishing to promote the ire he was feeling into his voice. “You may enjoy Mr. Russer’s company whilst you eat lunch. I will return in twenty minutes. Should you need me,” he finished, resting his hand briefly on the boy’s shoulder. “you need only call.”

Harry nodded, even managing to meet the Professor’s eyes for a moment before watching the man exit the room.

As the door closed, Craig held up a hand, silencing Harry’s questions as he waited for Snape’s footsteps to echo into silence as he made his way down the hall. When he was sure no presence of the man remained, he turned quickly to the confused Harry.

“I heard what happened, kid.” Craig said gently, taking a step back to sit on the edge of the bed. He motioned for Harry to join him. “I wanted to come and tell you…well, I wanted to say that I’m…that I’m sorry.”

Harry swallowed awkwardly as he pushed himself up onto the bed next to his friend.

“It’s alright.” he replied, the honesty of his tone catching Craig off guard. “It wasn’t your fault or anything.”

“Oh, shit.” Craig swore, his head falling to his hands before looking back at Harry. “I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry that I took you off the island, and I’m sorry that I left you alone with…” Craig sighed and raked his fingers through his hair before continuing. “Severus told me that he punished you for leaving.” Harry nodded weakly, not wanting to think about the two days he’d suffered at the Professor’s hands. “I told him it was my fault,” Craig continued. “but he said you should have known better. Look, I had no idea he’d freak out like that. I mean, yeah, he can be a jerk sometimes, but I never thought he’d take it out on a kid.”

“It’s ok.” Harry said reassuringly, not wanting his friend to feel guilty about his punishment. “You didn’t know he’d get so mad about it. It was my fault. I disobeyed…” his voice trailed off as he desperately tried to muster up the words to explain that he’d deserved what had happened, but it was too hard to think about it. Too hard to think that he’d blown it, that he’d caused the Professor to get that angry. Too hard to admit he’d done something wrong…again.

“But it’s over now.” Craig stated softly, turning to head to look at the boy.

“I think it’s over.” Harry responded, the anxiety obvious in his tone. “I hope its over.” he whispered, turning to look at Craig, and for a moment he saw a flash of something in the man’s eyes, but it was gone before Harry could even begin to asses what it was.

“Listen, kid.” Craig started, glancing at the door quickly, as if he expected it to burst open any moment. “What would you think if I said I could get you out of here? What if I could get you someplace safe, someplace where you wouldn’t have to worry about Severus hurting you?”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“Do you think he’d,” he swallowed hard. “punish me again?”

“I dunno.” Craig said worriedly. “I mean, I never thought he’s hurt a kid, you know? He can be a right jerk and all, but Jesus, did you see the bruises he left on you, and for something as simple as breaking some stupid rule?”

Harry’s brow furrowed in thought, and after a moment he shook his head briskly.

“No, no I just have to be better.” Harry replied. “I just have to be good, that’s all. I screwed up!” he exclaimed as an exasperated Craig stood and faced him. “You don’t understand! He was nice before I messed it up, he really was!” He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth as Craig motioned frantically at him to lower his voice.

“And what about next time?” Craig asked, returning to the spot next to the boy. “What about the next time you accidentally break a rule? What happens if the rules change, or if he decides you’ve done something wrong and you didn’t know it? What about the next time, Harry?”

“I…I…” Harry stammered, words escaping him now, his thoughts too jumbled, too anxious to form any coherency. What if he did mess up again? Leaving the island, well it had been Craig’s idea really, but he’d gone along with it. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time. That’s how it was with him. He never intentionally broke a rule, it always just seemed to happen without him realizing it, and he’d tried so hard to be good for the Professor, and…..and….but he’d ruined everything just like he always did, just like Uncle Vernon told him for years and years. Harry shuddered. He didn’t think he could stand it if the Professor punished him again.

“Where…” he whispered. “I mean…how would you –”

“I know a place.” Craig replied quickly. “There’s a friend of mine, a guy who would keep you safe. He’s a wizard, a really powerful one. He’d never let Snape hurt you. You can stay there till school starts.”

“But my things, and –”

We’ll get your things once you’re safe.” Craig assured. “This guy knows a lot of people. He’ll make sure you get everything you need.”

A heavy silence hung in the room. Harry looked over at the window. The rain had started and since stopped during their conversation, and he watched the rivulets of rainwater slide down the glass, the trees that dotted the meadow distorted through the splashed pane.

“Will you be there?” Harry asked quietly, turning back to the young man.

“I’ll be with you.” Craig nodded, letting his hand slowly fall to Harry’s and he took the boy’s hand and squeezed it. “I won’t let him hurt you, kid. You’re my friend and I’m yours, and I take care of my friends, ok? I really think we should get you out of here before he hurts you again.” It was Craig’s turn to pause then, and when he spoke his voice was strained, as if he were holding back some immense sensation. “I don’t want you to live like this, kid.” he said, his eyes welling with tears. “I’m scared. I’m scared he’s going to hurt you again and next time he might go too far.”

Harry’s bottom lip trembled as he watched emotion flood Craig’s face. This man really cared about him, the way the Professor did before, back when he was worried about Harry, back when he cared if something bad happened to him, like the night he almost drank the venom. How he wished for that feeling again, the nurturing of someone who really cared about him.

Harry nodded nervously, his own eyes tearing now, and he rubbed at his face with the back of his sleeve as Craig took his hand and helped him down from the bed.

“Let’s go.” Craig whispered, tugging Harry towards the door.

“But the Professor!” Harry replied, his voice hushed.

“Shhh, just follow me.” Craig murmured, carefully opening the door with as little noise as possible.

Harry’s heart thudded in his chest as they left the room, his hand must have been trembling, as Craig gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go and moving to the boy’s back, gently guiding him down the hall.

“Don’t worry, kid, I’m here.” Craig whispered.

They neared the stairs, both of them stepping softly as they passed Snape’s bedroom. Harry’s foot had only just touched the top stair when the laboratory door scraped open behind them. Harry flinched violently, pushing backwards against Craig as he took a panicked step back. He felt Craig’s hand on his wrist pulling his arm up to his head and placing Harry’s hand on the boy’s brow. Craig bowed his head to Harry’s ear.

“Keep it there.”

“Harry?” Harry shuddered again at Snape’s voice, allowing Craig to turn him around, the figure of the Professor foreboding, making his way towards them with hurried steps. “Harry?” he repeated, his voice laced with concern, and Harry’s heard clenched at the memory of the man being so worried about him when he had arrived at the manor.

“He had a headache suddenly come up.” Craig explained. “I thought we’d better come and find you. I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

Snape crouched down and studied Harry’s pinched face, the boy’s small hand was pressed to his forehead, and Severus gingerly reached out and took Harry’s wrist, pulling the quivering hand from the damp brow and allowing it to fall to the boy’s side. He lay the back of his own hand in its place, his eyes narrowing at the clammy heat radiating from the child.

“I’d better return you to your room.” he advised, reaching to take Harry by the shoulder. Harry flinched wildly, his body turning towards Craig, who reached down, his hands resting against Harry’s back protectively.

“Maybe I’d better take him?” Craig offered, earning a terse nod from the Professor.

Severus watched as Craig led Harry down the hall, one hand gently brushed against the boy’s upper arm, the other held Harry’s hand, his palm upwards and flat, allowing Harry’s small hand to lay against his. Severus narrowed his eyes, a cool, unsettling feeling growing in his stomach as he watched the two walk slowly back to the bedroom. Confusion was weighing heavily upon him, and he pressed a finger to the space between his eyes, rubbing at the deep furrow of flesh there as he frowned in consternation. There was something Harry was hiding, something too painful to put into words, to even think about. This was more powerful than the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his uncle and aunt. The wild eyes, the clamoring, frantic behaviour he had witnessed spoke volumes about the boy’s suffering, but for some reason he showed none of these signs with Craig, the very person who had been his guardian. In fact, he seemed to show little in the way of anxiety around the young man at all. Severus sighed. Whatever had transpired in those four days forced Harry to adopt a terrible, raw fear, but only towards him, and the feeling in his stomach grew colder until it was a painful, frigid ball in his gut, aching, twisting, and hollow.

Something had happened to Harry.

Something terrible.

But perhaps the something wasn’t as important as the someone. Severus snapped his head up and stared after the pair. No one else had been on the island during his absence, he was absolutely certain of that. He had checked and rechecked the wards before he left. There was no way anyone could have crossed them without his knowledge. He had briefly considered the idea of another presence on the island, but after as assessment of the wards by both himself and Della, the notion was disregarded.

He watched as Harry and Craig reached the end of the hall, and Harry stopped, hesitating a moment before Craig reached out, his hand at the back of Harry’s neck as he whispered something in the boy’s ear, and Severus noticed the stiffening of Harry’s body, his small fists crumpling into fists, and he shook his head as if he were shaking away an errant strand of hair. The neck had been bruised quite badly, and Severus recalled the thorough application of healing salve to the area, though not as much as the damage to his face had required. That had been an absolute mess. If he had fallen from the broom as Craig had assumed, it must have been from a great height, certainly high enough to cause such devastation to the tissues, but the majority of the damage was to Harry’s back and face. If Harry had fallen, the bruising suggested he had landed on his back, but how on earth did the boy’s face get so damaged? Even if the landing had caused him to recoil into his front, surely there would have been bruising to the chest and legs as well, not only the face. There was simply no way a fall of that magnitude would have caused such injury to the face while leaving the remainder of the body’s front unscathed.

Severus watched as the two reached the bedroom door. Craig’s hand dropped to his side, then he reached out and pushed the door open, waiting for Harry to take a few, shaky steps into the room. Craig paused, glancing back towards Severus before speaking briefly to the boy before shutting the door.

Severus waited for the smiling Craig to approach him before drawing himself up to full height, imposing as much of his intimidating form towards the man as possible. Craig faltered a little, his steps slowing ever so briefly before continuing towards the Professor, his smile a little more forced now as he came to a halt.

There was an eerie silence as the two men stared at each other. Snape’s unyielding gaze boring into Craig like a needle, and the younger man shifted his feet in unease, quite put out by the Professor’s trademark glare.

“Uh, you know Harry’s a real good kid.” Craig stated finally, nodding in his discomfort.

Severus nodded slowly before responding.

“It seems,” he said almost leisurely, in the voice he used to make a wayward student’s blood run cold, “that Harry’s broom was not returned after his…accident. I daresay you were far too consumed with concern at his condition to think of bringing it with you. Would that be a correct assumption?”

Craig licked his lips, his smile fading as Snape finished his sentence, and he nodded in affirmation.

“Yeah.” he replied far too softly before clearing his throat and repeating himself in a louder tone. “Yeah. I guess I was pretty freaked out.”

“And were you freaked out enough to recall where exactly you found him?” Snape drawled, folding his arms across his chest. This was generally the point where the student broke down in tears.

“Uh…um, yeah, I mean I think I know where –”

“You think?” Snape cut in, eyebrows raised.

“Well….yeah I mean…yeah I remember when it was, sure.” Craig replied, his awkward stammer causing Severus to feel a crude satisfaction at the effect he was having on the man. Craig turned his back to Severus and pointed a finger diagonally across the hall. “It was that way.” he stated. “Sort of…I guess west. Yeah, it was west, in a little circle of trees.” He turned back to the wizard and swallowed hard before smiling awkwardly. “That’s nice of you, um, to get his broom back. I’m sure he’d really like that. I mean…if you can find it.”

Severus’ eyes gleamed as he allowed his arms to fall to his sides.

“I am certain Harry will feel nothing but the most ardent gratitude at its return.” He replied stonily. “And now, I must ask that you allow Harry to rest. I will have Della see you home.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure I saw Della in the kitchen.” Craig said quickly, taking a few steps past Severus, towards the stairs. “I’ll ask her to activate the floo for me. You, uh, I’ll let you start on finding Harry’s broom.”

Severus nodded as Craig took a few more brisk steps towards the stairwell. He’d managed to stir quite the anxiety in the young man, and he forced back the smile that threatened to erupt, content to simply glare as Craig skittered down the stairs and into the foyer. He heard the kitchen door open noisily, and the squeak of alarm as Della was caught by surprise, likely in the middle of baking another ridiculously large cake for Harry, even though he was in no state to eat the one she’d prepared last night, or that morning.

Making his way down the stairs, he collected his cloak from a hook near the door and swept it around his shoulders. Pushing open the front door, he glanced at the sky before making his way down the stairs. He headed westward towards the trees, gait brisk and steady, each stride taken with great purpose as he set out in search of answers.

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It was a good fifteen minutes before he came across the clearing. The area was slathered in thick mud, half dried now, though the recent rains had begun to melt away the deep footprints that dotted the sludge. There had certainly been some activity here. One could almost follow the event simply from the state of the ground. The smaller prints, obviously Harry’s, circled one of the larger trees and then worked their way across the clearing, growing deeper and longer with each haphazard step, finally ending in a low, wide trench, about the size of Harry himself, Severus noted. The larger footprints, Craig’s he assumed, kept a good distance from Harry’s, though at one point they crossed the clearing towards where Harry had stood, then doubled back, leading Severus to another large indentation in the thick mud. He stood in the center of the clearing, the rustling of leaves upon the air, the fresh scent of rain and damp moss filling his nostrils as he surveyed the chaotic dance that had taken place on this very ground only a few days before.

“Della!”

The name was spoken loudly, but by no means shouted. It echoed off the trees, danced from limb to skeletal limb, resounding around the clearing and back to Severus’ ears just as the pop sounded next to him. He looked down at the delicate little creature.

“Della I want you to go to my laboratory and perform a thorough inventory of every vial in my possession.”

Della nodded mutely, not even a peep emanating from the tiny elf as she stared at her master.

“Should you find an absent vial, anything gone astray, even a potion on an incorrect shelf, you are to report to me immediately, do you understand”

Della nodded again, her eyes wide at the dire tone of her instructions. At a nod from Snape, she was gone.

Perhaps there was a potion involved, he mused. Perhaps Harry had entered the laboratory and misplaced or broken something. A small transgression to be sure, but to a boy for which the very act of breathing lead to a severe beating, it was possible he had overreacted to the thought of punishment. Perhaps he had run again, as he had during the storm.

“Grasping at straws.” Severus muttered as he took a few tentative steps through the mud, which was growing increasingly soggy and thinned with each minute. The rain had lessened since his departure, and now a soft haze of drizzle blanketed the island. He swore under his breath as he stumbled, catching hold of a nearby tree and righting himself. He looked in disgust at the culprit, a twisted root jutting up through the mud where…

Severus’ eyes narrowed. He slowly bent down and plucked the offending object from the muck, pulling the corner of his cloak around to wipe the mud from…from the wand? Severus stared at the wand in confusion, then realization as he recognized the wood; the smooth holly now twisted and charred, the faint glimpse of phoenix feather, the magical core melted against the disfigured rod. Snape’s heart raced at the sight of it. He had seen this type of mutilation in a wand before, but never outside the confines of Voldemort’s hideaways. A shiver stabbed up the length of his spine as he stood, flashbacks of the horrors he had witnessed during Death Eater gatherings assaulted his consciousness, and he wrapped his free hand around a tree branch for support, the damp moss soft under his palm.

What had happened here? What had caused Harry to perform such an act? Severus gently placed Harry’s wand into his pocket, suddenly aware of the wetness seeping into his shoes, and he made his way across the muddy clearing towards the grass.

Just then there was a loud pop behind him. He turned to see Della, several empty vials in her trembling hands.

“Master!” Della exclaimed, thrusting the vials into Snape’s waiting hands. “Della is finding only these out of sorts, Sir. Della is checking everything as you asked, and finding missing potions.”

“Good.” Severus replied, studying the fragile vials carefully. He held them up to the light one by one, finding no sign of residue within the little glass containers. He shook his head. “I cannot discern…Della, if you please.” He handed one of the vials back to Della, who clasped her long, thin fingers around the glass and held it tightly. She closed her eyes, and a gentle white light slowly seeped from her hands and swirled around the vial. She opened her eyes and stared back at the Professor.

“Della is seeing, Sir. Della is knowing what was in the vials.”

“And?” Snape urged.

“Della is seeing Polyjuice, Sir.”

Severus felt weak. Suddenly it all made sense. The fear Harry showed for him, the bond he had with Craig, the reason the boy gravitated to young man, the untamed terror he had of Severus. The bruises, and now the wand.

There had been no fall.

There had only been Craig.

He had been right when he had determined that there had been no one else on the island. Craig had been there the entire time. Craig had hurt Harry, only Harry didn’t know it.

The bastard had hurt Harry using Polyjuice to disguise himself!

That’s why Harry feared him. Craig had beaten the poor boy within an inch of his life, all the while looking exactly like…

His sudden epiphany was cut short as Della’s voice cut through the tumultuous sound of his heart beating furiously in his ears.

“Master, is young Mr. Russer being staying for dinner, Sir?”

Severus’ blood ran cold as he stared back at the oblivious elf.

“Young Mr. Russer…” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat, his chest tightening, caving in on itself, smothering him as he turned towards the manor where through the clamor of wet branches the stately old home was barely visible in the distance.

Rage and worry flooded into him, the heat of such wild fury almost burning his skin as he broke into a run. He tore across the lawn and up the stone steps, his cape fluttering violently behind him. He pulled the door open and headed across the foyer to the living room door, Harry’s disfigured wand now held tightly in his hand as he burst into the living room.

There, standing on the hearth, was Craig, one hand intertwined with Harry’s, the other releasing a handful of floo powder into Harry’s upturned palm. Harry jumped at Snape’s intrusion, almost spilling the dust as his head jerked up, eyes wide. Craig’s eyes flashed at the Professor, and he wove his arm around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him close.

“Harry!” Severus called, voice hoarse from exhaustion. “Harry, stop!”

There was no reply, the boy only able to stare, the fear evident on his face as he shrank back against the fireplace.

“What are you doing?” Severus asked slowly, his eyes trailing from Harry’s, across to Craig.

“It’s ok, kid.” Craig said softly, almost in a whisper.

“Harry.” Severus breathed, his eyes locking with the boy’s. He took another small, slow, step towards the fireplace. “Oh, Merlin, Harry I’m so sorry.”

“Harry. Do it.” Craig urged again, this time his voice slightly louder, and he jostled the boy’s hand with his own in an attempt to shake his attention from the Professor.

“Harry, while I was at the conference, I was delayed, did you know that?” Snape asked, his voice steady, composed, his fear and anger well hidden within serenity as he maintained eye contact, slowly making his way across the room. Harry’s brow furrowed slightly at the man’s words. “I was asked to remain an additional two days.” Severus continued, half way across the room now. He just had to keep Harry’s attention for a little longer. “How long did Craig stay with you, Harry? One day? Two? When did he pretend to leave, Harry?”

Severus watched as Harry blinked several times, his mouth open, breathing heavily. His head was slightly cocked to one side, his frown deeper now. He was listening! If only he could get through to the child, but who knew what that monster had done to him in four days. The possibilities were horrendously endless. The abuse had been horrific, he knew that, but perhaps there was something left of the child, some part of him that recalled Severus’ kindness. He had to reach that shred of Harry, that tiny piece of little boy who still knew the Professor cared for him.

“I have allowed you to endure the agony of the last days alone, Harry. I was ignorant of your abuse and I apologize.” he continued. “Madame Pomfrey and I were working so frantically. It never occurred to me, that is, until this afternoon, and I saw your bruises. And this...” Snape continued, holding up the gnarled wand, and Harry’s eyes flickered to it for a moment, taking in the bent, twisted rod before staring back at the Professor. “It was not difficult to determine the spell that caused such a deformation.”

“He’s trying to trick you.” Craig said urgently, pulling Harry’s hand from the boy’s side, the dark grains of power trickling from the small, closed fist. “Say it.” he growled.

Harry shook his head faintly, lips twitching with unspoken words, and he broke eye contact with Snape and looked up at Craig.

“If you stay here, he’ll hurt you again.” Craig whispered.

“Harry. Harry look at me!” Severus barked, his voice taking on the unmistakable severity of the heartless Hogwarts Professor, and Harry couldn’t help but obey, the inability to refuse engrained in him since birth.

“Harry!” Craig said loudly, his voice frantic now as he gripped Harry’s hand.

“The curse, Harry.” Severus said softly, abandoning the ruthless tone now that he had the child’s attention. “You tried the Avada Kevadra didn’t you? Harry’s brow creased in confusion, his jade eyes sparkling with sudden emotion.

“I….I tried…” Harry said faintly, hopelessly lost in a sea of bewilderment and fear as he tried desperately to unclench his fist. He could feel Craig’s hand against his own, hear the panicked pleas to let the powder fall and speak the words that would take them to safety, but he was caught in that stare, the Professor’s hypnotizing gaze, the eyes so dark they threatened to swallow him whole, and his own eyes widened as he tried to pull himself from the grip of those dark orbs. Craig was all but yelling at him now, and Snape’s voice grew louder too, the two men caught in a desperate fight for his concentration, but it was so hard to focus!

“There is a reason is did not work as you thought it would.” Severus continued, his voice breaking, the emotion of the moment, of the realization of what had happened to this boy and the suffering he had endured. “It was not me, Harry. The spell failed because the person you thought you were forcing the curse into, was not there. I was not there Harry. Understand me, I beg of you. It was Craig, Harry. All the time it was Craig. He’s the one that hurt you.”

“He’s lying!” Craig shouted, his hand on Harry’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh. “Say it, Harry!” Harry flinched, gulping at the pain flaring across his shoulder. He closed his eyes against the Professor’s mesmerizing stare and took a deep breath.

“I’m not lying, Harry.” Severus continued, his voice maintaining its barely calm tone. “There were vials of Polyjuice potion missing from my stores. I can prove all of this to you if you just step down from there.”

“He’s trying to confuse you.” Craig urged, his arm snaking across the boy’s chest, pulling him close. “Once he gets you alone what do you think he’s going to do to you? Remember Harry, his rules, his punishment. He’ll kill you for sure next time. Remember what it felt like, kid.” Craig said, bowing his head so he could whisper the words into Harry’s ear. “Remember how much it hurt. Remember how much you wanted it to end and it didn’t.”

Harry’s eyes flickered open. His breathing was no longer labored and choppy. He stared at the Professor, his eyes hollow, emotionless, the tiny part of the boy that Severus had hoped to reach was gone as Harry released the handful of floo powder into the hearth and stated their destination in a stilted voice.

Severus stood helplessly as the two disappeared, the quickly fading cloud of smoke gently dissipating into the cool air.

Swiftly, he leaped onto the hearth and scooped up his own handful of powder, throwing the fistful of dust into the fireplace.

“Russer port!”

There was nothing, not even a spark of smoke. An inhibiting spell had already been placed on the Russer fireplace, and Severus’ heart dropped at the thought of the only person who could have performed such an enchantment.

Ernie.

Calling for Della, he quickly relayed his instructions to the distraught creature before bracing himself for the intense magic required to break the charm that was refusing to allow him to follow Harry. Drawing in a deep breath, he focused his mind on the complex spell.

He would find his child. Yes his child. For as much as he had tried to remove the thought from his mind, for as much as he had rejected it, ignored it, fought against the very notion of it, at this moment he allowed it to flood into him in a torrent. The feeling washed into him, overflowed him. It inundated his senses, his heart, his rage, his misery, his very being.

He loved this child. He loved Harry, and as Merlin as his witness he was going to get him back.