He gulped down the rest of his liquid luck potion he brew just weeks ago. He didn't want to be seen by anyone, especially not by Snape and most particularly not after the incident at the ministry.

He just wanted nothing more than to run. The images of the death of his godfather were burned into his skull like some kind of parasite nagging at his flesh. He couldn't do it anymore. The pain was just too much for him to bear. He had to get away. And so he slipped out of bed, past his fellow Gryffindors, sneaked into the great hall without being detected by any teachers on patrol and suddenly found himself outside of the enormous entrance door of Hogwarts.

The clock on the Astronomy Tower struck 2 a.m. It was bitterly cold outside and he was just wearing his jumper and joggers. He ran off. Blindly, and as far as his feet carried him. Tears were streaming down his face. The ice cold wind like whips on his red cheeks. Low hanging branches punched his face and he winced as he tasted a metallic flavour in his mouth. Suddenly he fell. Hard.

He lifted his hand and felt his head. Blood, his hands were full of his blood. His legs couldn't hold his weight any longer and so his knees gave way and crashed into the oozy smelling ground - he sobbed. He couldn't take it any longer. He didn't care anymore. Didn't care who or what might be watching him right now, in this state. Couldn't bare the pain he had to endure and the massive tasks that laid ahead.

"Why me?" he screamed into the darkness.

"I can't take it any longer!"

He fell to his side and suddenly felt the urge just to lay there and weep forever. He greeted unconsciousness as an old friend.

He never heard the apparating sound and heavily placed feet steadily approaching. Didn't feel that someone kneeled beside him and laid his head into their knees.

"Potter? Potter! What on earth? Potter?"

Severus Snape touched his shoulder and immediately withdrew his hand again. He was alarmingly cold.

"How long did he lay here?", he thought, slowly feeling panic rising up in his chest.

"Potter! Wake up!"

He didn't move. Snape took his wand out of his robes and illuminated it. He was taken aback by what he saw. Bruises were forming on the boys cheek and fresh cuts where dripping blood on his with mud covered jumper. He held his wand over Potter's face and whispered "Vulnera Sanentur" under his breath.

The bruises transformed into a dark shade yellow while the cuts were almost translucent on his with sweat covered face. The boy whimpered. Snape moved closer to see what may have happened to him.

"No! Don't kill him! Take me instead! Don't!"

Harry shook violently now and his breathing was ragged with cries. Snape didn't dare move. He immediately knew what the boy's feverish dream was about. He mourned his late godfather. Not hesitating any longer he forced a potion he always had in his robes for emergencies, down the boys throat, while holding the boys head in his hands. Snape looked at his hands with shock as he felt a sticky substance. They were full of blood.

“What the..? Potter? Potter!”

He rushed a hand through the boys messy hair and felt a bruise as big as an egg forming under it. He healed it with a flick of his wand. Potter began to cough at the bitter taste of the substance he was given, and stirred.

"P- Harry? Open your eyes. Try opening them, you are save now."

He obeyed.

"Professor? Professor Snape? What are you doing here?" Harry weakly asked.

"The question is, Mr. Potter, what you are doing here, in the middle of the night. Injured nonetheless. Have you any idea of how dangerous these woods are at this hour?"

"Sorry. Sorry sir. I must have fallen asleep."

He closed his eyes again. Wanted nothing more than to indulge into darkness again.

“Potter, try staying awake. Potter?"

He held out a hand and laid it on Harry's forehead. He was boiling hot. The last thing the boy needed now was a fever.

“Harry?” No answer.

Snape took Harry's hand and tried to feel his pulse. It was shallow and dangerously unrhythmic.

“Damn you boy!” Don't you dare die on me now! Harry!”

The boy stirred again.

“No just let me sleep, I'm tired of all of this.”

He clenched a fist into Snapes robes and sobbed into it.

“By merlin boy, what happened to you?”

“Happened? Maybe I am not the one you thought I was all the time. I am not my father” he rasped between cries of pain.

”I'm sorry Professor.”

“About what Mr. Potter?”
Are you hurt anywhere else? And don't lie to me!”

He froze dead when the boy indicated to his heart.

“Potter stop this nonsense immediately. You will not die today!”

“Thank you Professor. For everything. I am so sorry.”

His eyes closed shut and his breathing got more shallow.

“Potter! Open your eyes!”

Snape acted by instinct as he tore the boys T-shirt so that his wand had better access to his chest to perform several healing spells.

“Renervate! Vitaverto!” he repeated over and over again. Nothing.

"No! Why?” he roared into the night.

He collected Harry's limb body into his arms and held him tight. Suddenly he heard something. Ragged and heavy breathing. The boy began to breathe again.

“Potter? Potter!”

“P-Professor?”

“Thank god”

“I'm sorry Professor.It has to be Felix's doing.” he murmured almost inaudibly.

“What was that?”

“Oh, erm.. Nevermind.”

Snape frowned.

“Do you even know how far away you are from the castle?"
Harry tried to open his eyes again.

"No."

"Well, let me tell you, Mr. Potter that you are outside of the Apparition wards of Hogwarts. That is why I was informed by the alarm that someone left those wards. You are lucky that I found you, and that you live to tell the tale."

"Outside of Hogwarts grounds? But, but I only ran for a few minutes...I didn't mean to..I.."

"What? Get yourself killed?”

Silence.

“Do you feel up to apparating back?”

A shudder from his student was the answer to his question.

"Come now, or we shall both catch a cold."

Harry tried to stand up but failed miserably. He swayed and trembled painfully. His head hurt like it was going to burst any minute. His limbs were sore from running such great distance and cold from laying on the hard floor. He shook violently.

A strong pair of hands caught him however. He looked over his shoulder only to find a stern looking professor.
But there was something else in those pitch black eyes of his. Was it concern?

"No", Harry thought. "That can't be, it just can't".

He brushed some dirt off his pyjama and tried to stand upright alone.
He was aware though, that Snape's hands never left his shoulders.

"Thank you Professor", he whispered tiredly and leaned into the older man.

"Always" he thought he heard before he felt the familiar sensation of apparation.