Broken pieces, break into me.

                                                    So imperfectly what you should be.

                                            Lay here, it’s safe here, I’ll let you be broken open.

                                           Hide you, confide to you so we can be broken open.*

                                                                    ~~~~~SH~~~~~

Voldemort hissed softly as he read aloud the document written in Parseltongue. The fragile parchment was one of several literary artifacts he’d found decades ago, tucked away in a warded, dank corner of the Chamber of Secrets.

He treasured these old scribed relics from Salazar Slytherin and had pulled three from their safekeeping in response to the recent threat posed by the Order.

Voldemort knew it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore, or someone else in his band of do gooders, managed to decipher the wards surrounding his manor and he had no intention of staying around for the showdown.

No, he planned to abandon his home and move his operations — but where?

Tom recalled having read of a fortress, ancient as time itself and long ago forgotten. He’d come across its mention while scanning through the then recently discovered artifacts. At the time, the existence of this fortress had been merely a fact of interest, something he might someday investigate. But recent developments had spurred his renewed interest for now it was imperative that he find the correct document, after which he would depart post haste to go and search for this well hidden stronghold. 

His slit-like eyelids widened as he finally came across the correct passage of Parseltongue.

Carefully setting aside the document, he then began comparing the description to that of the corresponding coordinates portrayed upon the large map he’d spread out across his mahogany desk.

The two appeared to coincide.

He smiled and released a stifled sigh through his narrow nares. But there was no time to gloat on his success; he would have to leave immediately, despite the fact that operations were underway on that forsaken rock in the North Sea.

“My Lord,” Pettigrew called timidly from his bowed position in the doorway.

“You may speak.”

“We have received communication from Malfoy.”

“Continue.”

“He reports that all the captives have survived and that they are making their way southward along the chain of safe holds.”

“How far have they progressed?”

“To the third shack, per his report.”

“And what of their condition?”

“Malfoy reports that the majority of survivors are experiencing assorted affects from their imprisonment; he is asking for Snape.”

Voldemort considered the news. “Send word for them to hold their position. Instead of continuing here as previously planned, they are to remain in the three southern most stations until I send for them.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“When you have completed that task, you will then proceed to shrink and pack all of my furnishings and belongings.”

Pettigrew barely hid his shock at this pronouncement, “Of course My Lord, as you wish.”  He lowered his bow and then backed out of the room.

Voldemort stood slowly and rolled up the left sleeve of his robe. He was thrilled by the intensity of all that was occurring simultaneously: the apparent successful attack on Azkaban, the escape of his captured Death Eaters, the Order’s looming threat upon his manor and his very own delicious thwart against their endeavors in discovering the whereabouts of the Fastness.

He grew aroused with self satisfaction as he pulled out his wand and pressed its tip to his Dark Mark. “Perhaps a bit of indulgence before I depart might be in order,” and he smiled with anticipation at the thought of Severus’ arrival.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus threw back the covers and rose to begin preparations for this day’s classes. He decided to skip breakfast in the Great Hall that morning, skip the noise and sitting next to that fool - Priestly.

A long hot shower, a strong cup of Ceylon tea and an hour or so in his lab for some peaceful, private brewing sounded infinitely more appealing. Brewing always settled him when things got to be too much.

Severus stepped towards the loo but before he could even cast a Lumos, the Mark on his arm burned so fiercely that he doubled over in pain.

This was unusual to say the least, to be summoned on a school day morning. And from the severity of the summons, he knew he’d best respond immediately. There wouldn’t be time for a shower or proper attire; the best he could manage would be to throw a robe over his person and depart.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

The Dark Lord’s intense summons brought Severus to an unexpected destination. Not the foyer as was customary, but directly to the Dark Lord’s study.

“Ah Severus, you’re promptness delights me.”

He dropped to his knees, “My Lord, how may I be of service.”

Voldemort smiled at the choice of words.  “I’m afraid your students will have to do without you for a day or two,” he spoke coyly as he strode slowly toward his potions master.

“My Lord?”

“Ah Severus,” he sighed. “You must realize how highly I value your skills with potions; rarely do I send you into the field. But that is exactly what I am requiring of you this morning.”

Severus waited silently for his master to get to the point.

“You will be pleased know that your Death Eaters who were captured the summer before last, have now been freed from that bastille, Azkaban.”

He continued his stroll across the study past Severus’s position on the floor. “They are currently taking refuge at a number of safe keepings…” He paused, “I suppose shacks would be a better choice of word. None the less, your services have been requested.”

Severus Occluded his shock and replied in a cool voice, “No doubt, there were injuries…”

“Something of that order,” Voldemort began to prepare himself as he walked up from behind.

“I shall leave at once, my Lord.”

“Not so fast, dear Severus.”

Voldemort reached out with one of his boney white fingers and pulled away the lace which had held Severus’s long thick hair, allowing the strands to splay across his back in a sheet of shining black.

“Before you leave, I wish to spend a moment or two with you.”

The words caused Severus’s heart to skip a beat at what was obviously about to take place. It wouldn’t be the first time the Dark Lord had claimed this service from him but it had been years, and during that time Severus had managed to safely bury the horrible rawness from the earlier rapes into that locked box deep inside his soul.

He closed his mind and barricaded his heart when his master lifted his robe and whispered in his ear, “Put your hands on the floor.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Does Snape think we don’t have anything better to do then sit here and wait for him to show up?” spouted off Ron indignantly.

It was twenty minutes past the hour and the students in seventh year potions were growing restless, all save for two.

As he had been throughout this first week of school, Draco was oddly quiet and withdrawn. He had known about the planned attack on Azkaban, knew that his father was in charge of its operation and that he would be gone for days if not weeks.

They’d argued about it and since his summons nearly a week ago, Draco had worried nonstop about his father’s well being.

Snape’s absence this morning merely confirmed the fact that the escape had happened — or that it was happening. Perhaps the later was the case since there had been no mention in that morning’s Daily Prophet.

On the other side of the room sat another quiet student.

During breakfast that morning, halfway through his meal, Harry was overtaken by — something. He couldn’t put a name to it. He wasn’t sick per say, but he definitely didn’t feel good.

On top of that now was the fact that Sev hadn’t turned up to class. He hadn’t been at breakfast either, but at the time Harry hadn’t given it a moment’s thought as Severus quite often skived off breakfast in the Great Hall.

Harry knew in his heart that something had happened and his worry was now starting to make him feel positively ill.

“Maybe he overslept?” called out one of the students.

“Did anyone check his office?” asked Zabini.

D’ya think if he were in there he’d a come in here by now, ya dolt?” countered Ron.

“Listen Weazlebeak, if you want a fight we’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Oh yeah? You and who else?” leveled the redhead. “Malfoy over there?” he said jokingly, “or maybe you were thinking of Parkinson.”

Pansy was about ready to walk over and let Ron have it when Argus Filch marched into the room.

“Quiet down, quiet down,” he ordered as he advanced to the front of the class.

“The Professors’ sick, so the Headmaster wants all of ya tah use this class tah study.”

The students responded with a resounding moan of disapproval.

“And I’m tah stay here n’ keep an eye on all of ya.” He pressed his thin lips together and peered around the room, relishing in this snippet of authority.

“Now open yer books and shut yer mouths. I don’t want tah hear a peep outta ya.”

The moans settled down as the students unwillingly pulled out their books and began to read — or at least they pretended to.

Ron decided to take this opportunity to work on his Quidditch playbook, while several other students simply began passing notes back and forth.  

Hermione looked to Harry’s pallid face.

“Perhaps you should go see Madame Pomfrey.”

“For the tenth time Mione … I’m not sick!” he whispered back adamantly. “It’s probably just that banger I had,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah right,” she huffed as she pulled out her book and tried to read.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

It was Friday night, Severus was still missing and the awful feeling that had hit Harry so suddenly the previous morning had plagued him incessantly now for two days. He could barely concentrate enough to do his schoolwork, had lain awake most of the night worrying and had barely eaten a thing.

He finally broke down and went to see Madame Pomfrey late that afternoon. She ran her tests but couldn’t find a physical cause for his condition.

“Perhaps you should stay here over the weekend Harry,” she had suggested. “I could monitor you and give you something to help you sleep.”

He’d been sitting on the edge of a bed, but stood up immediately. “Oh please no, Madame Pomfrey,” he pleaded. “Can’t you just give me the vial of something? I promise I’ll go back to the tower and rest.”

“Well,” she wavered then looked to Ron and Hermione who had come to collect their friend when classes had ended. “Only if you two promise to keep an eye on him.”

“We will!” assured Ron. Their first Quidditch meeting of the season was scheduled for that evening and he didn’t want Harry to miss it.

“All right then, wait here while I retrieve the potions.”

When the Mediwitch returned she gave Harry something to settle his stomach so that he could at least eat dinner. Then she handed him another vial.

“Pay attention now Mr. Potter, this is a combination of Draught of Peace and Dreamless Sleep. Take it ONLY when you’ve gotten into bed. It’s very potent and I don’t want you passing out and hurting yourself.  Understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Explain to me again that Quaffle Round-About Throw?” asked Jimmy Peakes, one of this year’s new Beaters.

“Oh, come on Jimmy; haven’t you read the playbook? It’s right there on page …” Ron turned to Harry, “Do you remember what page it’s on?”

Harry, who had been sitting throughout the meeting staring fixedly at the wall in front of him, merely shook his head.

“Hand me my playbook,” Ron ordered Katie then turned in surprise when Hermione stepped up to the group congregated in the far corner of the common room. “What are you doing Mione? This is for team members only.”

“You go right ahead with your ‘team members only’ discussion,” she leveled back. “Harry and I need to do our rounds.”

“But, he’s our Seeker!” Ron retorted. “Besides, he’s supposed to take it easy.”

Harry interjected, “I think I’m going to call it a night. We’re almost finished anyway, right?”

“Well…”

“Come on Harry, it’s late and I want to get to bed before midnight.” She helped him out of the chair and held onto his arm as they exited the common room.

They slowly worked their way along the seventh floor. When they turned down the remote short hallway at the east end (a favorite make-out spot), she whispered a Muffliato. “It sure is odd about Professor Snape.”

“Yeah.”

She glanced sideways at Harry’s tense face.

“I’m actually… a little worried about him.”

“Me too. I know something’s happened to him, I just know it.”

“Have you spoken to the Headmaster?”

He nodded and made to cast a Muffliato.

“I already cast one Harry.”

“Oh.” He still gave a quick glance left and right. “This is going to come out in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning.”

“What is?”

“There was an attack on Azkaban two nights ago and a bunch of Death Eaters escaped.”

“What?”

The Headmaster told me not to say anything, but he thinks that’s why Severus was summoned.”

“Oh Harry.”

“Dumbledore said that Severus sent his Patronus to him, early yesterday morning.”

That’s just about the time you started feeling ill.”

“Yeah, I managed to figure that one out already. Thanks.”

“Sorry,” she whined …which didn’t help. “But listen, I know he’ll be okay. I mean, we’re talking about Professor Snape.”

“He’s not invincible, y’know!”

“You care about him, don’t you” her question sounded more like a confirmation. She’d noticed the ease and rapport between the two wizards.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “He helped me so much over the summer and well…” he searched for a way to describe what Severus meant to him. Then he turned at looked directly at Hermione.

“Sev is so strong and smart. He knows what I’m up against and what I’ve been through. He helps me figure things out, kind of like …” Harry had been thinking of father or friend, but neither of those words seemed to fit. He did know though that Severus meant a lot to him and that the sage wizard was someone he could depend on and trust.

“Like what?” Hermione pressed.

But before he could answer, Dobby appeared. “Harry Potter!”

The two teens jumped at the elf’s sudden appearance. Then Harry quickly and effortlessly, not to mention wandlessly, ended Hermione’s Muffliato charm and asked, “What?”

“Harry Potter is asking Dobby to report when Professor Snape is returning.”

“He’s back?”

“Yes, and Harry Potter must be coming with Dobby quickly!”

“Why? Is he hurt?”

Dobby donned a curious expression as he held out Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. “Harry Potter must come quickly,” he repeated.

Harry turned to Hermione. “You gotta cover for me Mione. Tell Ron I had to go see the Headmaster, or something.”

“Okay, but won’t you need help?”

Harry shook his head. “If he isn’t hurt then it’s something … private.” The worried teen dragged his hand through his hair. “No, I'd better go alone. That’s best.”

He pulled Dobby next to him then swung his cloak to cover them both and they immediately vanished.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“He’s in there?” Harry whispered with surprise as the elf pointed to Severus’ private laboratory. 

Dobby nodded.

“Okay,” he looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was around and then took off his cloak. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Is Harry Potter needing help?” Dobby’s eyes were wide with concern.

Harry knelt down, “Do me a favor.”

“Anything Dobby can be doing for Harry Potter, Dobby is happy to be doing!” he nearly jumped up and down in his stocking clad feet.

“After everyone’s gone to bed, sneak in and line up the pillows on my bed and then pull the blanket over them so that it looks like me.”

Dobby stared questioningly at his favorite wizard, “Dobby is thinking no one will believe that the pillows are Harry Potter.”

“Close the drapes around my bed closed, but leave them open a crack. They all know Madame Pomfrey gave me something to sleep so they won’t try to wake me.”

Dobby started to pull worriedly on his ear, “Well … all right. Dobby will be doing this for Harry Potter.”

He patted Dobby on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” he added softly. “And thanks for helping me.”

Not terribly reassured, Dobby vanished and Harry turned to face the door. He cast one more cautious glance down the hallway, then quietly turned the handle and stepped inside.

Severus was at the opposite end of the room standing halfway inside a large storage cupboard.

“Sev?”

He didn’t respond and didn’t seem to even realize that Harry was there, but instead continued moving vials around — searching for something.

“Are you okay?” Harry tried again as he walked warily foreword until he came to stand beside the tall wizard, then he crooked his neck to see inside the cupboard as Severus continued his frantic search.

“What are you looking for?”

“It’s not here,” he finally spoke. “It should be here. Right here! I always keep it here.” He spoke in a rushed voice as he repeatedly jabbed and pointed his finger at one particular spot on the shelf.

His eyes had a strange look about them, he was pallid and his brow was furrowed. When Harry reached out and touched him, he felt Severus trembling.

“Let me help. What is it you need?”

Severus staggered back a couple of steps, “There isn’t any,” he dragged his shaking hand down his sweaty cheek. “I remember now. I was going to make more this winter,” he started to pant and his breaths became more and more ragged with each passing second.

“Make what?” Harry asked desperately. He was scared. He’d never seen Severus or anybody for that fact, act like this.

Severus leaned against the wall and slid down to a crouched position. “What am I going to do?” he asked as he started to rock his torso forward and backward. “I must prepare the draught.”

Harry knelt down and grabbed a hold of Severus’ shoulders, trying to stop his rocking. “What draught?”

“Peace.” He looked up desperately to Harry. “I need peace.” 

Harry’s heart was racing with fear. “Peace? I don’t understand. You need…” Then he gasped with realization. “You’re trying to make the Draught of Peace?”

Severus tried to get up, “Hellebore. I need to harvest Hellebore for the syrup.”

“Listen to me Sev, you’re not going anywhere. Something’s happened to you and I’m gonna to get help.”  He opened his mouth to call for Dobby when Severus let out a blood curdling scream.

“No!!!!!!!!!!!”

Harry fell off kilter, not only from shock but from the fact that Severus had now grabbed a hold of his shoulders. 

“No one can see me. I must be strong, always … strong.” His voice started to catch. Then he suddenly pushed Harry to the floor, struggled to his feet and staggered out of the lab.

Harry was shocked. It took him a moment, but he scrambled to his own feet then took off down the hallway after Severus.

He found the distraught man wedged into a corner of his sitting room with his hands over his face.

“How could he do that to her???” he sobbed. “Why did he hurt her???”

Harry stood staring helplessly until he remembered the vial from Madame Pomfrey and snatched it from his pocket. “Look Sev! I found some!” He took a sniff, not sure if Severus would be able to smell the second potion. “Here, drink this.”  

Severus willingly drank the entire contents then sucked in a breath of shock. “It's not pure. It's not...” The potion hit him like a ton of bricks and he crumpled to the floor before Harry could react.

“Oh God!” Harry dropped down beside him, “are you okay?”

Severus wrapped his arms around himself and began his rocking again as he mewled incoherent sounds.

“Listen Sev, it’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

Harry clambered back up and levitated Severus, still rocking and mumbling to himself, to his bedroom and lowered him gently on his bed.

The distraught wizard immediately rolled onto his side and curled up into a fetal position. “The stairs.” 

Harry sat down and laid a blanket over Severus as he continued with his incoherent remarks, but at least now he was relaxed. “She screamed,” his voice sounded thin and feeble.

Harry was brushing Severus’ damp hair away from his cool, clammy brow when those last few words struck him with a cold familiarity.

Screaming? Stairs? He took hold of Severus’s clenched hand, “Are you talking about your dream? You are, aren’t you?”

“She died.” There were tears rolling down his cheeks now and they began to make a wet spot as they fell upon his pillow.

Harry could barely take a breath, “Sev, who are you talking about? Who was she?”

He answered in a whisper as he drifted off, “Her name was Rosa.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~