Harry stumbled down the slope leading away from the house and barely caught himself in the early dawn light. It was chilly outside for this time of year, and he shivered as he turned to give one last look at the dark house where he was unwanted. Deplorable. Ungrateful. That's what Harry had been called. Had he once complained? Hadn't he done his chores and homework? Disrespectful. Irresponsible. Had he mouthed off once? Had he run away again? No, there was nothing for him there, not even a healing potion or stomach calming draught. He'd been up twice in the night to barf in the toilet from his nausea, and had sat sobbing on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, wishing he had just one person who would look out for him... pick him up and tell him it was going to be all right. But there was none of that now.

Coughing as his chest felt too tight and his throat continued to burn, Harry turned and disappeared down the hill and towards the unknown, his wand his only possession now. He just wanted to disappear and never return, not to the Burrow, not to Hogwarts, not to anywhere. There was no place for him now but Voldemort, and then perhaps death.

* * *

He was sure he'd walked for days. He felt dazed and confused, and his body was doing strange things. It wasn't that his head still throbbed and sometimes bled from the gash if he got to moving too fast, nor that the rest of his body ached or burned. No, things were happening that felt ominous. Yesterday he had almost peed himself because he hadn't even realized he had to go until the last possible second, and twice he thought he heard voices calling after him. In the night, camped under a bridge or in another thicket of trees, he woke and squinted into the darkness to see shadows flitting around him, but when he lit his wand, there was nothing there, and he sat terrified for the rest of the night, as if something was coming after him that he couldn't escape. It left him with a sense of urgency to move farther and faster, and never to go back, so that's exactly what Harry did. Sometimes he ran until he could run no further, lungs burning and legs weak. Other times he walked well into the night, or doubled back and chose a different route, feeling perhaps as paranoid as Uncle Vernon must have felt when he had packed up the family and tried to escape the delivery of Harry's Hogwarts letters.

On the fourth day Harry threw up what little he had taken from a country windowsill to eat, and retched until his body was overtaken with shaking that he felt would never stop. As strange as it was, as he lay in the middle of a field high with tall grasses, shaking uncontrollably, Harry remembered something that escaped him thus far. It was only a snippet of a conversation that he hadn't understood at the time as a first year, but it all seemed to click into place suddenly.

He had been laying in the Hospital Wing after the incident with Quirril and Voldemort, and was roused by sleep in the night to hear the Headmaster and Snape talking.

"Had I known where he was going, I would have prevented it."

"Yes, yes, while small, he does seem intent on making it hard for you to keep your promise, does he not?"

There was silence for a long moment, in which Harry lay very still, wondering if the two men knew he was only feigning sleep.

"I did not realize you knew about the promise."

"Yes, well, with how well you knew her and your devoted protection of Harry, one could only guess your intent and the cause..."

Harry frowned. The her spoken of must have been his mother, and Snape must have promised her to protect him. Harry didn't know why, but was sure now that the man had failed miserably. He wouldn't even help Harry when he was injured, and seemed to take pleasure in constantly belittling him. Why him mum? Harry was finally able to get the shaking under control as he looked up at the ominous sky in question, clouds dark and heavy with unshed rain. He knew he would never know the answer to his question, and was only more determined to not be caught again and dragged back into his own private little hell.

Standing on shaky legs, Harry shivered in the cold and looked down at his thin, dirty red t-shirt and torn jeans. There was a hole in his left trainer now as well, and he felt as dizzy as ever.

Staring off into the distance where fields could be seen in every direction, Harry made a wide circle, hopped a fence, went twenty or so yards, doubled back, hopped the fence again and went in the other direction. He wasn't really sure why he had to do it aside from the feeling that he couldn't shake that he was in fact being followed.

As the sun began to set a few hours later, Harry was at the bottom of a small hill covered in grass. He'd walked through a city and come out the other side back into the country. He was searching for a suitable place to sleep, preferably with some shelter seeing as how it was starting to sprinkle now, when a shadow flitted out of the corner of his eye. Wand out, Harry spun and his heart beat so hard that the gash on his head began to throb again. He saw nothing, and wondered what had happened.

A second shadow came into view in the other direction, and then a third, and before Harry knew it, they circled him and then shot straight up into the air before disappearing into the clouds high above.

Harry stared up into the clouds, the hand that was holding his wand feeling weak now as he wondered what the shadows were and if they were coming back, or if he had just been imagining them. Big wet drops fell and hit his face for his trouble, and as his stomach grumbled with dread, his attention was drawn suddenly to a darker, more defined shadow in the close distance. Even while Harry's glasses were wet with water and his vision blurry as it had been for a few days now, Harry knew it was Snape. They stared at each other for a few moments, and then Harry turned and ran uphill, legs feeling as if they would give out any minute now. A brief glance behind him showed the other wizard running fast after him and gaining ground faster than Harry would have liked. Harry was so tired of running. He didn't want to run, but he could no longer handle people who cared nothing for him.

Harry doubled over at the top of the hill able to go no farther. He was so tired. So tired.  "I can't," he panted, tears springing to his eyes from the pain of his damaged lungs and throat, but more from knowing he would be taken back. Back to being alone in the midst of another family he would never belong to. He looked up to see Snape panting heavily ten feet away, hands on his knees as he too tried to catch his breath as the rain beat down on them, unrelenting and unforgiving.

"Stop running," he said surveying the drenched boy with a critical eye. There was blood running down the side of Harry's face again and his wet hair stuck to the sides of his head.

"Why?  So you can just take me back there again?  Treat me like dirt?  You don't care what happens to me. Nobody does. Just let me go... I've got nothing to gain by going back with you." It hurt to speak, and the second half came out as a croak. Harry looked to his left, wondering what his chances were of escaping now.  Severus didn't miss the look the boy gave to his surroundings.

"You're right," Severus mocked angrily.  "Poor prince Potter who nobody cares about.  You're not the same boy rules are constantly broken for.  Not the same boy the Headmaster and his Head of House worried themselves sick over after he ran away.  You don't have friends that fawn over you and your celebrity."

Harry stood up and made one last sprint away from Snape, but the man bounded forward on his long legs and practically pounced on him, taking him down to the ground.  Harry lay there face down in the mud and grass and began to cry.  At that moment he thought he'd rather be dead than have to go through this all over again with this man.

Severus thought he must have hurt him when he'd tackled him and got off of him quickly, but Harry didn't stop crying.  It unsettled him.  "Where are you hurt Potter?"

Harry didn't look up at him or answer.  He just lay there and continued to cry for long moments.  When Severus asked him again, Harry said, "It doesn't matter, why bother asking?"

"You are my responsibility."

Harry did look up at him at that.  Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance even though the rain stopped beating down on him as hard as it had a few minutes ago.  "I know about the promise you made to protect me," Harry said, and Severus stared at him.  "I wish you wouldn't have.  I wish you would just let me die already."

Severus felt like he'd been punched in the gut.  The boy wanted to die?  He knew about the promise he'd made to Lily all those years ago?

"I free you of the promise.  Just let me slip away.  Please."

There was something in Harry's tone... something in the way he begged.  He seemed desperate, and Severus didn't understand it.  He had a safe place to live for the summer... food, a roof over his head.  Why would he want to go back to live on the streets again?  He swallowed hard.  Was he that horrible to live with?  Perhaps.

"Please."

Harry seemed less like the insolent, insubordinate child he was used to dealing with then, and more like a broken young man who was resigned to death.  Perhaps he was more emotionally damaged than Severus liked to admit.  Perhaps he'd had reason to run away before.  Perhaps he had reason to now.

"I- did not keep that promise as well as I should have," Severus admitted.  He'd always done the bare minimum to protect Harry.  If he was alive, he had done his duty, or at least that's what he'd always told himself.  But if Harry wanted to die, then he wasn't really alive, was he?  Just existing.

Harry burried his face in his arms, totally soaked.  "I can't keep going like this.  I've got no one.  I'm always alone."

Severus sighed as he stared down at the injured teenager.  "Then let me make you a new promise.  You won't be alone."

The words were a lullaby Harry had waited to hear his entire life, but Harry couldn't let himself believe them.  He always had been, and always would be alone.  It was just something he'd come to accept.  Finally too exhausted to stay awake any longer, cold and wet, and injuries sapping his strength, Harry passed out.  He was unaware that a man with black hair who was suddenly feeling guilty and ashamed had scooped him up from the mud and apparated him away to a warm, safe, and dry place.