Severus watched the two similar, yet opposite in likeness, witches walk from sight of his house on Spinner’s End though a small opening at the join of the drawn sitting room curtain.  The blonde seemed far too trusting of him, the dark not nearly trusting enough… but it was the dark that had him pegged right, and this was dangerous for the black clad man… very dangerous! 

He knew he’d barely proved himself loyal enough to the Dark Lord through Bellatrix Lestrange’s eyes, but he could hardly have done more.  As it was his gut was churning with anxiety at what he had promised the blonde witch… but more importantly, how he had promised.  The Unbreakable Vow he had magically undertaken now left him with very little options, all of which he would rather not assume. 

Ensuring his unwelcome houseguest was still tucked away upstairs and out of earshot, Severus quietly exited the dwelling, snapping the door shut softly behind him.  Dumbledore would need to hear of this ugly development as soon as possible. 

He had gained the corner of Spinner’s End and was well out of the line of sight of his childhood home when, after a swift scan with his sharp black eyes of his surrounds to establish that he had acquired no witnesses, he Disapparated in a twirling flurry of black robes. 

Reappearing at the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Severus stepped up to the locked wrought-iron gates and magically countered the locking charm.  The heavy chains that were wrapped securely around the thick, black bars of the gate proceeded to snake their way in reverse to create an opening that would permit the imposing, sinister looking wizard to enter.  After passing through he made a lazy flick of his wand and the chains wound themselves back into position and he continued his purposeful stride over the vast lawn toward the large wooden door that constituted the main entry to the castle. 

When he was about a third of the way across the turf, his eyes were instantly assaulted by the bright, earnest approach of a glowing orb from the sky just to the right of the castle.   

‘An Order message,’ he immediately thought, squinting toward the bright, lustrous patronus to try to make out the shape, and therefore the identity of the sender, from afar; though from this distance the feat was impossible.  Halting his approach to the castle, he waited until the gleaming mass was close enough for his eyes to make out a distinct shape. 

Deep lines of puzzlement highlighted on his face as he hastily tried to make sense of why the patronus that approached him resembled the shape of his own so closely.  He would recognize her form patently easily, so closely was it linked to the highly personal and emotional memories from which she was usually conjured; as was common for many wizard’s and witch’s patronus figures.  But who in the Order bore a patronus of a similar profile?  He’d not received a message via this particular patronus before, of that he was sure. 

As the shimmering form drew even closer, Severus identified not only the similarities to his beautiful, silver doe patronus, but also the marked differences: and the realisation of what and who the large antlered buck patronus represented caused the dark man to instantly flush with fury. 

He dared send this apparition to confront Severus Snape…?  Harry Bloody Potter had the audacity to taunt the most intimidating Professor at Hogwarts with this travesty of a spectre?!   

He knew it belonged to the boy… he had witnessed this particular vision before on the shores of the Great Lake a little more than two years ago, and as impressive a figure as Prongs cut, his presence managed only to reawaken in an ill-prepared Severus’ thudding heart a habitual incense along with a long neglected ache. 

Growling in anger, Severus promptly closed the remaining distance between himself and the approaching patronus. 

“Deliver your message and be gone!” he demanded sharply, eager to avoid stirring up the myriad of buried, hurtful memories of the past any more than was absolutely necessary by ridding himself of the sight of the most insistent reminder as quickly as possible. 

As the apparition nodded its head in understanding, the echo of the voice of the Potter teen floated out and around the dark man, unexpectedly pervading him with the very essence of the message. 

“I need you… I have been injured and need help urgently… I’ve lost quite a large amount of blood and can’t manage to stop the bleeding… please come as quickly as you can, I’m in Quandong Road, on the outskirts of Little Whinging, down the small alley near the back of the Doctor’s surgery…it hurts a lot… please hurry!  Harry.” 

Feelings of desperation and anxiety that were not Severus’ own accompanied the message, the boy must have been in quite a state when he conjured the patronus and instilled the message.  The experience left Severus taken aback for a long moment. 

He could scarcely believe that he had been the recipient of a message from Harry Potter at all, let alone one that was infused with such an intimate and vulnerable plea for help.   

‘I mean, weren’t I the last person the infernal child thought of for help at the end of the previous school year?’ Severus thought bemusedly.  In fact it seemed from Dumbledore’s explanation that the idiotic boy had not even considered him at all until the Umbridge woman had summoned his assistance in acquiring further stocks of Veritaserum and he had appeared at the doorway to her office where Potter had clumsily tried to send him the oblique message about what he had witnessed in the Dark Lord’s deceitful vision.   

And now, after the incident at the Ministry culminating in Black’s death, Severus had had a well-defined impression that Potter lay much of the blame for the loss of his newly discovered Godfather squarely at the Potions Master’s feet.  

Severus had been initially mystified by the unvoiced, yet nevertheless palpable, accusation from the boy by way of his recent icy demeanor despite the truth regarding Severus and Sirius’ mutual distaste of one another… well, because he had done all he could at the time to prevent the disaster, after all; insisting that Black remain at Grimmauld Place.  Though as the summer holidays had progressed, Severus had come to suspect that the teens’ own guilt in respect to the series of events was most probably the reason he had lashed out at his already established adversary; it was obviously a lot easier and safer for the brat to lay blame upon others instead of accepting responsibility for his own asinine actions.  And despite Dumbledore’s tolerance of the boy’s supposedly fine character and assertion of his promising aptitude, Severus observed that Potter had been allowed to make a nasty habit out of the tendency to be recklessly arrogant to the point of being unreasonable since beginning his career at Hogwarts.   

Consequently Severus had given the ridiculous allegation and the boy’s regard for the dark man no credence whatsoever; after all, Severus was agonizingly well aware of his own culpability in the whole affair which had begun many years before Harry Potter had even arrived at Hogwarts and felt a clear conscience regarding his part in the lead up to Black’s death.   

And besides, he did not care one whit what the spawn of James Potter thought of him… or so he told himself, anyway.  Perhaps if he ever thought of Harry as Lily Evans’ son he might need to reassess his stance on the matter; but these were not thoughts that he’d ever allow to enter his mind. 

The silver buck sprectre pranced impatiently in front of him drawing him out of his musings.  At the initial shock of Potter choosing to send an urgent appeal for help to him, he realised that he had failed to take in the details of the message. 

“Repeat the message,” he requested of the sashaying patronus tersely.  Just the mere sight of the apparition churned his stomach. 

After this time taking note of the boy’s location, Severus took a longing look toward the castle where he wished to discuss the latest demoralizing developments with Albus as soon as possible.  But it would have to wait, he concluded; Potter’s worrisome, yet oddly intriguing, situation in reality required the dark man’s attention far more urgently.  He swiftly dismissed the lustrous vision which had remained to ensure its job completed with a contemptuous backhand gesture, turned on his heel and retraced his steps across the grounds and back through the locked gate, securing it for a second time. 

With a last contemplative thought about the absurdity of Potter sending him a cry for assistance; and the urgency the child must have felt to even consider the idea, Severus Apparated away to Little Whinging. 

Severus reappeared in the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk, the only other streets he knew the exact location of in the suburb that Potter had grown up in other than his actual street, Privet Drive.  He’d been here a number of times throughout the previous fifteen years, though most often since the return of the Dark Lord, in a capacity of ‘watcher’ when man power of the Order was lean, or one time when the squib, Mrs Figg, had something consequential, yet not urgent, to report; although even including every incident his visits could not be considered frequent. 

Gathering his bearings, he strode down the laneway and out onto Wisteria Walk.  He continued along the street to the small cottage decorated garishly several houses away and rapped firmly on the front door. 

Mrs Figg, the only squib member of the Order of the Phoenix, answered several moments later, a little startled to find the intimidating wizard on her doorstep.  Severus allowed a small smirk to curl his lips at the woman’s obvious disquiet. 

“Forgive my intrusion, Mrs Figg, but I require your assistance.” 

“Oh… ah, er, P-Professor Snape… what is it that you want?” Arabella Figg stammered in her surprise, her numerous cats (or were they kneazels?) joining her at the door, weaving themselves languidly between her ankles. 

“Would you by chance know the location of Quandong Road here in Little Whinging?  I believe there is a Doctor’s Surgery somewhere along that road, if this detail helps with your recollections,” Severus asked smoothly. 

“Yes, I know that street… oh, ah… you can come in if you like and I’ll just fetch the telephone book with the maps inside,” she offered a little hesitantly. 

“Thank you, but I would rather wait here… my business is quite urgent, you understand?” the dark man explained.  It seemed his refusal was mutually beneficial as she wasn’t able to conceal her relief from the brooding man scrutinizing her.  Though, as he was really rather unwilling to enter the woman’s notoriously cluttered house, he chose not to feel affronted.   

Realising (though a little too late) that her feelings about this man were possibly obvious in her features, she raised her hand to shield her reaction from him in embarrassment.  “Oh… right… very well, as you wish.  I’ll be right back.” 

Severus turned his back on the door and surveyed the street, growing increasingly impatient with every minute that passed.  After several had expired, he could not help himself, he turned back to the doorway and tried to locate the woman inside the room ahead of him, craning his neck and squinting in order to see better into the darkened space.  He could not locate her, so he leaned further into the room and then took one step into the abyss, his eyes straining to focus in the dim light. 

“Mrs Figg!  Mrs Figg… I really cannot spare another min-” 

At that moment the sometimes doddery older woman appeared abruptly right in front of his face, he took a hurried, startled step back from her with a gasp.  Oh, for heavens sake, now the squib was creeping him out!  He closed his eyes momentarily and sucked in a deep breath to try to re-gather his faltered composure. 

“Here it is,” she offered the open thin paged book to him.  He grasped the index in one hand and his sharp eyes began to dart over the map.  “Now, we’re here,” she indicated with a finger, “and Quandong is over here, this way.”  

His eyes followed her fingertip as it guided the man to the location he had requested, several streets over. 

She was now indicating the actual physical route the man should take, so Severus lifted his head to familiarize himself with the course, asking a few questions to confirm the correct orientation of the map that he held in reference to the direction that the streets lay.  She then pointed back to the map to show him approximately where the Doctor’s Surgery was located along the lengthy road. 

Once he was sure he understood, he promptly tore the page containing the pertinent map from the book and handed her back the greater. 

“Thankyou, Mrs Figg,” he said, indifferent to her shocked expression and dismayed whimper, bidding her a small nod of goodbye before he swiftly turned on his heel and strode from the residence. 

He had gained several meters before she called out to him, “It isn’t about Harry, is it?  Is he alright?” she asked worriedly.   

He barely turned around at her enquiry, but he did answer.  “I shall deal with it, Mrs Figg, do not concern yourself,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

Walking briskly along the streets, Severus’ keen eyesight picked up the occasional drops of blood on the pavement.  In his opinion they appeared quite fresh and he supposed they could belong to the boy; as a result he quickened his pace even more. 

As he hiked, Severus contemplated just what misfortune had befallen the teenager this time, internally preparing a number of scathing criticisms to fire at the boy when he invariably discovered the nature of Potter’s blunder.  Yes, he was going to enjoy this very much, he told himself! 

The drops of blood along the footpath had gradually become more prolific Severus observed with an amount of uneasiness, and with a quick consultation of the map he appreciated with relief that he was nearing his destination.  He only hoped that Potter had remained in the same location.  Scanning the area he caught sight of the standing of shops about half a block away.  He decided to cross the street now when he spied the large sign advertising the Doctor’s Surgery on the opposite side of the road.  There was a steady stream of cars, but they weren’t bumper to bumper so Severus had no problem negotiating a safe passage across the two lanes, even though his mind was quite preoccupied. 

He increased his pace once again, almost breaking into a trot as he neared the surgery and the opening of the small alleyway along side it.  Drawing his wand, he briskly rounded the corner and searched down the narrow, shadowed passageway finally spying the teenager he sought sitting with his back propped against the brick wall at the far end.  Potter’s head, he could see, was lolling to one side at what had to be an uncomfortable angle.  With a worried frown Severus now allowed himself to succumb to his long building desire to break into an anxious jog; covering the final several meters to the boy swiftly and coming to an abrupt halt to kneel on one knee at his side. 

“Potter?” he said immediately in a slightly greater than average volume and tone, though received no reaction. 

“Potter!” he said again, a little more sharply.  Still nothing, not even a twitch. 

Not touching him yet, Severus did a quick evaluation of the unresponsive teen who had his arms crossed loosely in front of him with his hands tucked between his thighs.  Severus could have easily assumed he was merely sleeping if he hadn’t seemed oddly difficult to rouse. 

‘The boy is breathing, a little shallow… though not particularly laboured, probably mostly to do with his current posture more than anything… but he seems exceptionally pale in complexion.  It appears the only outward sign of injury is this wrapped arm wound; it must be pretty deep though, there’s quite an amount of blood.’ 

His eyes followed the tracks of blood from the soaked bandage down the arm to where his hand disappeared from view. 

Severus’s investigative gaze also took note of the pool of half dried blood on the concrete next to the child.  

‘But it isn’t all that great a puddle,’ he thought.  ‘Even taking into account the drops of blood all the way here, he shouldn’t have lost so much as to be life-threatening,’ Severus’ mind reasoned, ‘so it should be safe to rouse him.’ 

“Potter!” Severus tried again, after stowing his wand temporarily up his sleeve for easy access he reached for the boy’s exposed throat to check his pulse. 

‘A little erratic,’ he noted, once he’d found the point on which he could feel the soft rhythm of Potter’s blood being pumped through his artery.  For a good while after the need to monitor his pulse, Severus’ hand remained cradled around the teen’s neck; in his preoccupation and concern, he hadn’t even considered feeling repulsed at the touch of the child he actively despised; as he might have done under different circumstances.   

Using his left hand he lifted Potter’s head by cupping his jaw and cheek; straightening out his neck out, then repeatedly tapped his right hand none too gently upon the boys’ opposite cheek. 

“Mr Potter!  Wake up.”  Several more taps and the dark man detected the slightest stirring from the teen.  He persisted with his reviving technique. 

“Mr Potter!" 

The boy finally began to come to; eliciting a small moan of pain. 

“That’s it,” Severus encouraged, “now, open your eyes.” 

 HPSSHPSSHPSS

“Come on, open your eyes.” 

Another groan later and Harry was attempting to force open his heavy lids to comply with the soothing, deep voice commanding him.  He knew that voice… he had been conditioned to obey it. 

“Ow,” he whispered aloud at the sharp sting that was assaulting him at various places and in varying intensities around his body, following it with a fierce hiss of pain.  He lifted his hands from his lap, they seemed to be burning as well as stinging, and he felt what must have been his wand slip from his loose grasp.  It clattered softly to the ground beside him. 

There was a soft, mildly horrified gasp from the owner of the voice and then Harry noticed for the first time the warm hands gently cradling his face and he leaned into them appreciatively.  Someone had answered his patronus and come to help him, (Professor Dumbledore?)… Harry sighed internally with relief. 

“Sir?” Harry asked attempting to confirm if it was Professor Dumbledore who had come to his aid, because he still hadn’t managed to open his eyes yet. 

“Yes, Potter,” the voice answered… but somehow something did not quite match up, though Harry could not put his finger on it. 

“Open your eyes,” requested the voice again, but at a whisper this time, lending Harry no help with working out his mystery. 

The hands were removed from his face leaving his skin lamenting the disappearance of the soothing warmth. 

The hands were then suddenly tugging at the bandage around his injured arm.  Harry panicked, trying to inch away from the fiddling hands. 

“No, it hurts too much… don’t, please,” he said and made a huge effort to lift the uncooperative eyelids. 

“Stay still, Potter!” snapped the voice.   

This gave Harry pause… since when did Dumbledore call him Potter? And then suddenly a ghastly memory involving Prongs came to mind. 

‘Oh, no… surely not…?’ he thought with horror, and finally winning over the resistant lids; flicking his eyes open and taking in the blurred image of the irritated, scowling face of Snape far too close to him in his opinion! 

Harry instantly scooted down the wall away from the unpleasant and terrifying man. 

“Oh, fuck!”