~~~~HP~~~~

Wednesday 12, March 1997

"Lumos!" Harry called out, watching and practically pleading, for the tip of his wand to light up. It took a fraction of a second longer than usual, but the tip did change into a soft light.

"That's a good start," Snape replied, so casually that Harry felt he was being patronizing, as he marked something onto the parchment in front of him.

"There was a delay," the young wizard pointed out. "You probably couldn't tell, but there was."

It was now midweek between his last two rounds of chemotherapy for Phase Three and while he was definitely feeling better physically as his blood counts were rising, he woke up that morning feeling off. He was as aggressive, agitated, and fidgety as when he was on the chemotherapy tablets at the beginning of this phase, and he had no clue as to why.

To make matters worse, he was also frustrated over his sour mood because today was the first day he was allowed out of hard quarantine and he wanted to be excited about that fact. Although there really was not much difference because he wouldn't be going back to classes and Snape had come up with the brilliant idea to start a home schooled education for him. The basic theory was that between Snape and McGonagall, they could keep Harry mostly updated on the coursework - Snape taking Potions, Defense, and Herbology, and McGonagall doing Transfiguration and Charms - then, combined with his student-led tutoring, he would be able to pick up the real material faster once the time came to restart. To Harry, it seemed like a moot point, but if his two professors and three classmates were willing to put the time in, he could put in the effort. It wasn't as if he had anything else to work on.

However good that plan was, all of it would start next week, leaving today - and the rest of the week - to go through some revised magical testing with the professor. It was right after lunchtime and Snape had called Harry into his office with the only instruction to bring his wand. Of course the Gryffindor knew what the purpose was, but he didn't expect it to be so formal. When he arrived in the office, Snape was sitting behind his desk with piles of parchment surrounding him and various books opened on his desk. It looked like he was preparing for a dissertation instead of a simple magical test.

"You may think there was a delay because you're expecting it," Snape tried to logically explain, going back to the results from his lumos.

"No," Harry argued back, "I said there's a delay because it took longer for the magic to flow then every single other time I've ever cast that spell."

He probably didn't need to have the aggression behind his reasoning, but given the mood he woke up in, he really didn't appreciate the former spy trying to brush off his concern.

"Extinguish it," Snape said while rubbing his eyebrows, having far more patience with Harry than the young wizard knew he deserved.

"Nox." That time the delay was more obvious. "Do you want me to say 'I told you so' or is it assumed at this point?"

"Please assume for the rest of this exercise, statements like that are implied," the professor replied curtly.

"Fine by me," Harry was standing in the small office with Snape now leaning against the front of the desk deep in thought about what to do next. "What's next?"

"Let's move onto levitating," he pulled out the same basket of objects that was used back when they were more regularly testing his magic. "You'll go through each object and I'll be notating the results and then I'll compare it to your previous tests from last year."

Harry didn't want to do it, there was something inside of him that wanted to yell at the professor that this wasn't necessary. By simply holding his wand he could tell his magic was dying; the flow wasn't anything like he'd felt before. It lacked the excitement he'd stopped paying attention to sometime early on in his magical education. Now that it was missing, he recognized what he'd taken for granted before. Even though he didn't want to finish the exercises, the young wizard obediently followed the instructions because he didn't want to cause a row so early on in the week. As expected, each test was more miserable than the last: he was able to hold the levitating objects for roughly half the time he had previously and the heavier objects - like the chair - he could only lift about 20 centimeters off the floor. Summoning seemed to go well overall for the smaller objects, but when he attempted to summon Snape's large Encyclopedia of Potion's Ingredients Around the World the smaller Handbook of Most Common Potion's Ingredients was summoned instead; as if his magic was telling him that since it couldn't do what he requested, it picked the next closest thing. He was only allowed to try one Transfiguration that afternoon and it was changing a teacup to a quill. Had the Gryffindor been in a better state of mind, he would have laughed at the fact that Snape chose the exact same combination that Draco transfigured during their Transfiguration Roulette game, nevertheless he was too far down in his negative thoughts to make that parallel. The fact that the only part that he managed to transfigure was some feathers onto the cup did nothing to help his mood.

"Are we done?" Harry demanded. "I'm pretty sure you can tell I'm probably at the level of a first year now!"

Uncharacteristically, Snape worried his bottom lip as he reviewed his notes, "I'd say more like a second year, but I do hear your point."

Suddenly, Harry's head started pounding like a line drum coming from the inside out that was so loud to him he was surprised the professor couldn't hear it blaring out of his ears. He could tell that Snape was talking to him, but couldn't hear it above the pounding of his head. And as quickly as the pounding started it stopped.

"What happened?" Snape asked. The former spy had moved so he was now kneeling in front of Harry who had unknowingly fallen to his knees on the floor.

"I don't know," Harry answered, still holding his head. "It was like a drum in my head-" again he felt the drumming return, but this time instead of hearing it through his ears, he heard himself start to laugh uncontrollably. A sense of elation poured through him and he knew what was happening even before he felt the burning through his scar. "-No!"

He tried to pull up his Occlumency forest and was proud of himself for getting the shaky scene lifted; the blue sky and the trees below him, but it shattered only a second later by a black plume of smoke.

"Harry!" He heard Snape's scared baritone voice breaking through the smoke. The young wizard focused on the sound of that voice hoping it would lead him out of the darkness and back into his forest. If only he could get back to his forest, maybe he could hide himself there and Voldemort couldn't get to him. He'd simply stay there, hidden, for however long he needed to. It was a futile effort though because the evil wizard had been using his mind magic so regularly - as a way to relive the horrors his Death Eaters had done when he could not go on the muggle raids - that he could break through more barriers than ever before. Harry's mind had no chance of defending itself against that.

The first thing that Harry noticed was different with this vision was that he didn't know where he was because it didn't look anything like Malfoy Manor - the last known Headquarters of Voldemort - where he expected to be. Instead, he was in a darkly lit room with red wall coverings that gave the room the eerie feeling of blood seeping out from them. On the far end was a fireplace with a roaring fire and a large plush armchair sat to the left side that was currently occupied. It was here that the second difference Harry noticed: the person sitting in the armchair was just as snake-like as Harry last remembered seeing him at the Department of Mysteries. Though he looked far healthier than even the night in the graveyard, there was no denying that it was Voldemort sitting in the chair in front of the fire. In all of his other visions, besides the memory of Draco's initiation - he saw through Voldemort's eyes, not as an outside viewer.

This is a memory, not a vision, Harry realized.

Back in the Hogwarts dungeon, Harry laid on the floor writhing in pain, though no sound came out of his open mouth. Snape stood over the Gryffindor casting diagnostic charms, already knowing that there wasn't anything he could do to stop the inevitable.

"My Lord," a voice from the doorway caused Harry to turn and he audibly gasped. Standing in front of him was Snape, though he was much younger looking - in his early twenties if Harry had to guess - much closer to the Snape in the pictures of his mum than the Snape who he knew now. The dark-haired wizard wasn't in his Death Eater robes, nor did he have his mask sending chills down Harry's spine to think that this man, the one he'd been living with and depending on, must have voluntarily walked into where Voldemort was now living. He sought out his "master" without being prompted, without being forced, just because he wanted to see the evil wizard.

"Come in, Severus," Voldemort called, beckoning in of his newer recruits. "I'm told you have something of grave importance to relay to me? And that you… refused… to tell anyone else?"

"You are correct, my Lord," the sound of that voice, so unlike the one Harry was used to hearing, sent fear deep into his bones. This voice was so much closer to the old Snape that Harry questioned how he didn't recognize that the professor had changed back in July. The Snape he was so used to now never sounded this menacing or… evil. Snape approached the chair where Voldemort sat and kneeled down to give the customary kiss to the hem of his robes, an act that made Harry's stomach churn. "I come with important information you may find most useful."

He needed to get out of here, but no matter how hard he tried, the vision - no, memory - wouldn't let go of him. It didn't matter to him that Snape used to be a Death Eater, he knew that fact and seeing it in front of him wouldn't change anything. He was a spy, or at least he became one, and to the Gryffindor that was all that mattered; at least he thought that was all that mattered. Harry could feel Voldemort's impatience as he waited for the dark-haired wizard to start explaining whatever it was he was so anxious to tell.

"I was at the Hogs Head tonight where Albus Dumbledore was having the most peculiar interview with a potential Seer, likely to hire for divinations, and I believe I overheard an intriguing prophecy," Snape didn't stand from his kneeling position, but instead spoke this statement to the floor in front of the armchair. Similarly, Harry stood frozen in place, struggling to breathe as he thought about the words he'd just heard from the man he thought of - sometimes wished he was - as a father.

No… it can't… he couldn't…

An evil, sardonic laugh echoed through the dark room.

"Stand, Severus," Voldemort demanded. "Tell me what this so-called prophecy has said about me."

Snape instantly stood, perfectly straight with his hands clasped behind his back. It was a submissive stance that the Gryffindor would never expect to see in his normally stoic professor. It was he that usually demanded that of his students and would never be the one to appear so vulnerable.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," Snape's voice was calm and steady as he repeated the words that had been haunting Harry since he first heard them in Dumbledore's office less than a year ago, but their implications had caused him so much more pain far earlier than that. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."

Back in Snape's office, Harry didn't notice the tears that started falling from his eyes or that no matter how much the real Snape tried to wake him up, he was locked into a memory that would alter the path they were on forever.

At this point, Voldemort stood to stand face to face with the young Death Eater who had just reported to him the single piece of information that would intertwine his evil life with Harry's. Snape stoically stood, without even a flinch, as the dark wizard came within ten centimeters to his face. He was standing so close to the younger Snape, Harry was sure his hot breath could be felt across his pale cheeks.

"You understand that I must verify this information for myself?" He hissed out to his follower.

"Yes, my Lord." Again, Snape didn't move a muscle as Voldemort silently cast the Legilimency spell to enter Snape's mind and verify what he'd just heard. With each passing second, Harry was becoming more and more numb as he thought about the moment he was watching before his eyes. "So, you speak the truth."

"Of course, my Lord," Snape stood taller, showing off his pride from bringing such an important discovery to his Master's attention. "I came right to you after being removed from the premises."

"Crucio!" The Death Eater fell to the ground in pain, but Harry couldn't find any sympathy in himself - though knowing personally how it felt to be subjected to that curse - for the man who had essentially placed the target on his back. When the curse was eventually lifted, Voldemort spat at the young wizard on the floor, "That was for getting yourself caught before hearing the rest of it! Now get out of here!"

The black cloud took over again as the scene dissolved and reappeared.

Now he was standing in a brightly lit grey room with tall ceilings and a large ornate table in the middle. It was so different from the previous room, Harry became disoriented by the sudden change. This time, he could clearly see Voldemort - not too different from the way he was in the previous memory - sitting at the head of the table with Snape pacing the room on the right side. He didn't appear much older than the last memory, but his eyes were filled with the horrors he'd seen in the time that had passed and he appeared to be deeply concerned for whatever had been said before the memory started. He was dressed in all black that appeared to be Death Eater attire and held his mask in his left hand slowly tapping it against his leg as he paced.

"I've told you, it could equally be the Longbottom boy," the young Death Eater pleaded, "he was also born at the end of July."

"Ah, Severus," Voldemort almost laughed as he said the other wizard's name. "The prophecy said 'born as the seventh month dies' and I'm afraid young Harry Potter matches that statement, born literally in the final hour of July."

Harry gulped as he recognized what was going on before him. This was when Voldemort decided it would be him and his family they went after. While the Gryffindor wouldn't wish his fate on anyone else, he found himself hoping that this conversation went differently; that Voldemort would have targeted the Longbottoms instead. He could feel the bile threatening to creep up the back of his throat at what that would have meant: Neville might have been the Boy-Who-Lived.

"The Longbottoms are a prominent Pureblood line, meaning Neville is the more likely opponent to your greatness," Snape argued. "Compared to the half-blood Harry Potter, I don't see how the hour of his birth could be a priority over blood lines."

"That's what makes prophesies so interesting, Severus," the evil wizard continued, "we do not know what causes one to become fate."

A silence enveloped the room, only disturbed by Snape's footsteps as he continued to pace. Harry knew he couldn't be seen or heard in a memory, but his heart was beating so hard against his chest, he thought there was no way they couldn't hear it. With each step of Snape's foot, echoing over the crackling of the fire that Harry just noticed, the Gryffindor's blood boiled hotter and he became angrier with the professor.

"I have heard a rumour, Severus," Voldemort broke the silence with this odd statement. "You were in love with Lily Potter in your Hogwarts days."

It was not asked as a question and therefore it didn't surprise Harry when the younger Snape didn't answer. Harry knew it was true, he'd felt it in the memory he'd seen before Christmas.

"Please," Snape replied when he stopped pacing, having decided how he was going to handle the situation in front of him, "spare her life. It is not the mother you are needing."

A sinister smile came across Voldemort's face that made Harry shiver, "and the boy?"

"The boy you can have, his father too," Snape responded, his voice laced with pain, "kill them both, but please spare her life."

Without even knowing what he was doing, Harry ran at the young Death Eater standing before him. He reached for his wand desperate to hurt him, in any way he could, for betraying the woman he supposedly loved. This was the man - not a man, a coward - responsible for the single event that forever altered Harry's life; that put him directly into Voldemort's line of fire and responsible for him ending up living in a cupboard under the stairs being abused by the people who should have been caring for him. But before he could reach Snape the Death Eater, the scene shifted and it started to dissolve away until only a white light surrounded him and the vile sound of Voldemort's voice could be heard surrounding him:

"As you wish, Severus. I shall leave young Lily Potter as repayment for what you've done for me."

Harry sat up so quickly, he immediately went light headed as he looked around the small office and then turned to his left and vomited; hoping he would expel the images he'd just seen and the knowledge he'd just learned. His face was covered with blood from his scar having burst open, and it was then that he realized who was kneeling so close to him - holding a wet bandage to his forehead - and whispering to him, "it's alright, you are safe at home."

When Harry's terrified emerald eyes met Snape's onyx ones, the panic and anger he felt in the memories came flooding back into his veins. Without thinking, simply reacting to his instincts, he pushed the professor as hard as he could, which in his weakened, ill state was not even enough to shift the man's weight.

"Get away from me," Harry yelled into the former Death Eater's face. He reached over to his right, close to where Snape was kneeling, and grabbed his wand, immediately brandishing it at the other wizard's chest. "Get the bloody hell away from me!"

Snape's face didn't even try to hide his confusion about what had just occurred as he frantically tried to figure out what could have happened to cause Harry to pull his wand onto him. Understanding how delicate Harry's emotions were, even before the vision hit, he raised his hands to show he meant no harm, then fell back onto his bottom, and uncharacteristically scooted further from the young wizard until his back was sitting flush against his desk.

"Harry," Snape said quietly, "what did you see?"

The young wizard's eyes were shifting back and forth across the room as he put together the pieces of what he saw and what he had already known. It was possible the memory was fake, but he knew that Snape switched sides because someone - his mother he'd already deduced - had been threatened by Voldemort. But was Snape the one that caused that to happen?

"You got her killed," Harry breathlessly said, without thinking, "and… me? You didn't care at all… you said… you said… he could..."

He couldn't catch his breath, and once the man that Harry had come to depend on the most in his life figured out what he was talking about, Harry knew it wasn't a fake memory. He could see the truth in his eyes Harry had truly seen what had happened all those years ago, and Snape was actually the one responsible for all the death and destruction in his life.

"It's not what-"

"Not what? " Harry interrupted, jumping to his feet with his wand still pointed at his professor. They'd already determined that Harry's magical level wasn't as strong as it had been, so the professor could have easily taken him down - both magically and physically - but chose not to react. "You told him about the prophecy! You sent him directly to us! And then you didn't even care if he killed me or my dad! Go ahead, deny it, tell me it isn't true."

The last sentence was said as a challenge, to give Severus the chance to tell Harry that it had been a false memory, that Voldemort was once again baiting him for reasons completely unknown. But the silence that followed his demand spoke volumes and neither wizard moved as Harry gasped for breath, trying to decide what his next move would be. He couldn't stay there, not when this was not only the person responsible, but had also lied to Harry about it. It went far beyond learning that Snape almost hit him in the other reality, this was not only in the here and now, it was real; this Snape actually did this to him.

"I can't do this anymore," Harry whispered, but the sharp inhale from the other wizard showed he'd heard and understood the meaning behind it. Raising his head to give one last stare into Snape's eyes, he desperately tried to find some sort of feeling in himself besides betrayal and when nothing else was there, he confidently said, "I'm leaving."

The professor didn't move from his spot on the floor against his desk when the young wizard left in a hurry, slamming the office door behind him. He still didn't move when he heard the door to their quarters open and slam closed; he simply sat there questioning how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Harry didn't know where he was going to go when he left the dungeon quarters. At first, he thought he could go to McGonagall's quarters since she was his guardian and said he was welcome there if he ever needed a place to stay, but he didn't even know what time it was and if she was in class, plus he really didn't want to have to explain what had happened with Snape. No, he needed somewhere he could go to think, to process the complex set of thoughts racing through his mind.

"- doing out here?"

The Gryffindor was so lost in his own mind, he didn't hear the person calling out for him until the other wizard was upon him. Of course, it was Draco heading back to their quarters after the end of classes.

"Didn't you hear me?" The Slytherin asked, sounding almost insulted that Harry hadn't noticed him, "Aren't you still supposed to stay home for another week or something?"

Home. Harry didn't have a home anymore; Privet Drive was never really his home and now the place in Hogwarts that felt more like a home to him than anywhere else was built on a web of lies.

"Are you ok?" Draco asked. Where his previous fake annoyance was, now held an actual concern for the Gryffindor. "You don't look alright."

The idea popped into his head so fast, he didn't really have time to think too much about it. He grabbed Draco's right wrist - luckily preventing the other wizard from drawing his wand - and said, "Come with me."

Whether the Slytherin was actually curious about what Harry had in mind or simply felt guilty pulling himself away from the clearly weaker wizard, he allowed himself to be pulled through the corridors. They both ignored the odd stares they received from the passing students until they ended up in the left corridor on the seventh floor. Harry closed his eyes and walked in front of the blank wall three times asking for a place he could hide away and burn off some of his aggression. When the doorway appeared, Draco gave a wary look before pushing it open.

The Room of Requirement didn't look much different from the times he was here for the D.A. meetings, which made sense given the fact that dueling was probably the best release he could ask for right now. The floors were covered in a thick padding, perfect to prevent too much bruising because even he could admit that this was most likely a horrible idea. In addition to the extra padding, there were objects placed around the room that could be used as an extra block or places to hide such as fake boulders, trees, and even a little shed that sat in the far left corner of the room, and a set of canoes on the other side. It was exactly what Harry didn't even realize he'd been hoping for.

"Do you have your wand?" The Gryffindor asked Draco, finally releasing his pale wrist from his clutches.

"What kind of daft question is that?" Was the reply and it made Harry smile. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Probably not," Harry drew his wand as a way of signaling that if the other wizard didn't act, he was probably going to end up with a stinging hex headed straight towards his chest. Still unsure, Draco removed his robe and his tie and followed the other wizard to the dueling floor. "Don't forget I can use my magic again, so don't feel the need to go light on me."

It was technically a lie because his opponent wouldn't know how horrible his magical testing went this afternoon, but Harry didn't care. If Draco got in trouble for it later, he would simply have to tell McGonagall or Dumbledore that it was his idea, and then admit that it wasn't necessarily one of his brightest ideas, but when was he known for bright ideas; that was left for Hermione.

"You wish, Potter" Draco replied, narrowing his eyes at his opponent.

The first offensive attack belonged to Harry with a stunning spell that Draco easily blocked, but it came with so much ferocity behind it that Draco shot back with a locking leg jinx without even thinking. Harry's protective spells were mediocre at best, so to compensate he went back to his old tried and true method of defense from his primary school days with running and hiding. The best part of all was that as he was running this way and that way, he found himself running away from not only his blonde opponent, but everything he'd learned about the man he'd come to love as a father over the last nine months.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus had no clue how long he sat alone on the floor of his office, with his head resting on his arms that were draped across his drawn up knees. Yet again he had no one to blame but himself for getting into this situation. The conversation likely wouldn't have ended any differently had he been the one to broach the subject, but having the Dark Lord assault the young wizard was the worst possible way for the information to be revealed. There would never be a way Harry could ever forgive him now, as he eventually did after revealing the truth in his old reality. He needed to move, to let Minerva know what had happened, and to help get Harry settled with her. The young wizard had his last treatment of Phase Three on Saturday and he had no doubt in his mind that Harry would need to do it there, with her. Perhaps while she went to check on him, Severus would sanitize her quarters and leave her notes about the spell he created as well as all of Harry's tablet medications.

The professor knew it was a vision the moment Harry fell to the ground and that was before his scar had started profusely bleeding. When it hit the four minute mark with no sign of slowing down, he had summoned a blood replenishing potion from his laboratory and spelled it directly into Harry's stomach. It wouldn't help his platelet count to slow the bleeding because it would simply use Harry's current blood as the base to replenish, but it would make sure the volume of his blood didn't plummet should this continue. And continue it did. Harry was on the floor writhing in what looked like extreme pain for another ten anxiety inducing minutes without any indication if this was a current vision of what the Dark Lord was doing - in which case he was surprised his Dark Mark hadn't burned - or if it was something the dark wizard was doing just to torture the young wizard, like Draco's initiation. Never did he consider that his former master would think to go far enough back to show Harry the prophecy. He was now starting to question how much the Dark Lord knew of his relationship with Harry. It was obviously enough to warrant using his energy to show that very pointed memory, that was targeted to break - or shatter - the trust they had built and deny Harry the one thing he'd never been able to have: a family. Again, he had no one else to blame but himself for that too, he was the reason Harry would never have a family.

Still uninclined to move, his body numb from the position he was sitting in as well as from the shock of his flooded emotions, a piece of parchment popped up in front of his face. Harry was obviously keyed into the wards, yet he still found himself illogically hoping that the name on the other side was the Gryffindor's. He was half-right in that it was a Gryffindor: the name Hermione Granger was printed in the neat script staring back at him. Without thinking twice, he incinerated the parchment and settled back against the desk. She would eventually go away, either that or Draco would be back soon after his last class and he really didn't care what happened between them right now.

He had zero concept of time sitting there on the floor and had it not been for the fourth piece of parchment to show up with Hermione's name on it, he wouldn't have cared. For whatever reason though, the young witch did not seem to want to go away until someone answered his blasted door. Now fueled with anger on top of the layer of grief that was already there, he lifted himself from the floor, ignoring his protesting bones that reminded him that somehow this 37 year old body was far more worn than in his old reality. The sitting room was completely dark, telling him that it had been at least a couple of hours since the vision - or memory - was sent from the Dark Lord that completely upended his life as he knew it. A wave of his hand lit the lanterns bringing in a warmth of light that negated how he was feeling inside. A quick look at the clock showed it was ten to seven o'clock; he'd been on his office floor for over two hours.

It's no wonder my body is aching so much.

"What do you want?" He sharply asked after swinging the door open so fast the teenage girl on the other side jumped about a half a meter in the air. As expected, it was Hermione and she shifted her weight uncomfortably when he raised a single eyebrow at her. "What. Do. You. Want?"

"Um…" it was unlike Hermione to be so flustered for words. "I was… supposed to meet Draco after classes, but he didn't show up."

She stopped as if that statement meant something to him. Not really in the mood to ease her discomfort, he crossed his arms across his chest and waited until she continued.

"He was…" she tried to look around his body blocking the view into the room behind him, "coming down here to grab a book for me, but like I said he never showed up. I wondered if he was here, but I'm guessing by your look, he's not."

As much as he wanted to step back inside the entrance way and close the door in her face, if Draco never made it back here or to meet with her - which he was not supposed to be doing to begin with - that was cause for alarm. His bedroom door had been uncharacteristically left opened as the professor walked to answer the Gryffindor witch's constant calling, but he'd been so lost in his thoughts, he didn't think twice about it. The last time Severus had seen his Slytherin charge was in their morning defense class as he took his lunch in his office this afternoon to prepare for Harry's magical testing and the blonde did not mention anything about staying out later after classes or missing dinner. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stepped aside and gestured for Draco's girlfriend, and one of Harry's best friends, to come in.

"Is Harry in his bedroom?" She asked heading towards the corridor, "he may know what time Draco left."

"He's not here," Severus replied, feeling his fear layer on top of the anger and the grief, "we had an issue at one of our lessons this afternoon and he needed some space."

"But sir, he's not supposed to-"

"I am well aware of that, Miss Granger," he said curtly through his clenched teeth. "Let me get in touch with Minerva and see if she's seen either boy."

He would have expected Harry to run straight to his friends and cousin, and if that didn't happen, where was he? There had to be a logical explanation - besides the one he currently had playing in the back in his mind - for why neither student was accounted for. A quick firecall to Minerva yielded no results outside of an equally worried "I'll check the tower." That wouldn't account for why Draco was currently missing though. It was the combination that had him the most frantic.

"She's going to the tower to look for Harry," he said, "and I should go check the Slytherin dormitories for Draco. Can you stay here should either of them show up while I'm gone?"

"Of course, sir," she said, pacing the sitting room and biting at her left thumbnail. Stress and worry caused people to do a wide range of things they normally wouldn't do and biting nails was apparently Hermione's.

Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he was looking for a missing Draco to a set of Death Eater's children, the professor went to grab his teaching robes to throw over his more casual clothing. He walked into his bedroom taking strides that were easily double the speed of his normally fast gait, but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes scanned the room as he always did when entering - to ensure nothing was out of order - and stopped at the blank white photograph on his bedside table.

The Marauder's Map!

He turned and ran down the hallway to the sitting room where the young witch was still pacing. "Where does Harry keep his map?"

Her face immediately flushed, "I don't know what-"

"I already know about the map from your third year," he frustratingly said, hating that she was wasting time. "Where does he keep it?!"

"Um… in his trunk."

He didn't wait for her to move before he took off for Harry's room and used his wand to preemptively open the young wizard's trunk. It took more digging than he expected, but he found the map laying beside the invisibility cloak which had caused him too many problems throughout the years in both realities and yet he hadn't seen it once until this moment this year. It was a testament to how comfortable Harry felt - or had felt - living with him.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said to the old stack of parchment with his ebony wand pointed at it. Hermione looked over to him with shock in her brown eyes that he knew how to operate it. "It's a long story."

When the map finally revealed all the locations on the school grounds with hundreds of shuffling dots going every which way, they both frantically looked in all the logical places first: the tower, Slytherin dorms, library, Hagrid's hut, Great Hall, astronomy tower, and even the owlery and boat house. Neither Draco nor Harry were anywhere on the map. Which was how he came to the conclusion, in his heightened state of anxiety, that they were no longer on the school grounds.

Where would they go?

He tried to rack his brain thinking of any places they would be that didn't include Malfoy Manor; either voluntarily or forcefully. Unfortunately, outside of Hogsmeade, for who knew what reason, he couldn't think of any other logical place for them to go.

"If Professor McGonagall should arrive before my return," he told Hermione as he exchanged his teaching robe for his traveling cloak, "let her know I've gone to Hogsmeade to see if they're at the Three Broomsticks or if anyone has seen them there. I doubt two Hogwarts students in the middle of the week would go unnoticed."

"Definitely not, Professor," she agreed, "I'll let Professor McGonagall know. Shall I ask her to stay here?"

"Yes," he responded, "since we know they're not on the school grounds, it won't do any good having her wandering around looking for them."

The young witch nodded and he stormed out the door to take the familiar walk to Hogsmeade. There were times during the previous school years where he'd taken a night to enjoy some quiet - or more accurately loud - company down in Hogsmeade to clear his mind, but he'd not had the time this year thus far. Aberforth would question where he'd been and would hopefully be able to assist him in finding his two charges. Walking out of the castle, at a pace that would rival any Zuowu, he kept a keen eye and ear out at all the students he passed in case James's map was wrong and it somehow missed Harry's presence. Deep down, he knew it would be futile; that the map was accurate and if they weren't in Hogsmeade he would need to go to Malfoy Manor next. That thought caused him to pause momentarily; he would need a plan first and one that got the Order involved, he couldn't just waltz up to the gates and expect to extract the two sixteen year old's.

The walk was plagued by his interchanging emotions - anger to fear, fear to grief, and back around again - that he was completely lost in his thoughts questioning if he should have sent Minerva in his place. There was no way Harry would want to go back to the castle with him, nevertheless at that point he was already approaching Hogsmeade, evident by the everlasting snow that blanketed the small village starting on the pathway after the train station before the Three Broomsticks. It was now nearing half past eight and most of the normally bustling village was shutting down for the night, their windows either illuminated by soft, darkened lanterns that stayed on all night giving the shops the sense that someone lived among the clothing, Quidditch gear, or rows of books instead of the flats above. Others were completely dark to indicate to any passerby that the establishment was closed for business at that time. There were only a select few businesses with bright - or as bright as full lanterns and candles could be - lights steaming out of their windows showing that they were still open for business at this time on a Wednesday night: The Three Broomsticks, the owl post, and the Apothecary. He knew from experience that the Hogs Head was also open, though no light would come from under its door.

Always one to be prepared, his wand was drawn as he approached his first destination: The Three Broomsticks. Loud boisterous talking was flooded out from the inside, not overly odd for mid-week as many professors used Wednesday night as a break from the stress of the start of the week, and simultaneously an early celebration as they approached the end of the week. It took until his third year teaching to be first invited on one of these outings, which he rejected of course, and continued to be invited until his fifth year when his colleagues finally knew he would never attend. In addition to the professors from the castle celebrating their survival to midweek that would make the trek back in some level of inebriation, there was also a small number of professors that lived in the village with their family and would return in the morning. In his old reality, he'd considered the permanent move from Cokesworth to Hogsmeade with Harry, however as a Head of House, he was required to live on the premises and what a better place to be able to keep a close eye on his son then living in the same boarding school. That small memory brought a pang of guilt and grief to his chest as he approached the doorway.

It was a combination of his focused thoughts on what was happening inside of the bustling pub, combined with a well placed silencing charm on the boot of the wizard approaching that when the nonverbal Petrificus Totalus was cast upon him from behind, he didn't stand a chance to even lift his wand. He fell face forward, his body completely unresponsive to his demand to at least catch himself before falling into the cold snow. Luckily, or not, his assailant didn't leave him in that position to freeze and likely suffocate. A solid boot met his right rib cage with a crack before proceeding to turn him over onto his back. Staring down at him, the light from the window no more than three meters away making his pale face appear almost translucent and his long platinum blonde hair framing his long pointed face like a misplaced halo, was none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the Malfoy Patriarch taunted, "I would have expected better from you, Severus. You try to be so careful, and yet here we are. Though to be honest, we fully expected it to be Potter that left first. It's a shame really, the boy will have to wait for another day, because I have what I came here for."

Giving the frozen professor one more kick to his side, jostling his already fractured rib, the blonde Death Eater kneeled over and placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. Severus couldn't move, of course, so he did the best he could to mentally prepare himself for possibly one of the most painful disapparations of his life, having no idea what was in store for him on the other side.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was laying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement, tucked out of the way behind the small shed, having just taken a tripping jinx that he was too slow to out run. Given his weaker spells, he had decided early on that using other defensive strategies - like the running, ducking, and hiding - was a better option and then to use what little magic he could muster on offensive spells against Draco. He had no idea how long they'd been there, but he was exhausted, sweating, and now ready to end the duel. Inevitably, though in hindsight he probably should have thought about this, his feeding tube had come loose from its tapped place on his cheek sometime in the middle of their game and was pulled out. It wasn't the first time in his two months of having it, but he would now have to go see Madam Pomfrey to get it replaced because while Snape could do it himself, McGonagall could not and he had zero intention of going back to the dungeons; definitely not tonight and possibly not ever.

"You alright, Harry?" Draco asked, peering carefully around the edge of the shed just in case Harry had been prepared to shoot off another hex, which he wasn't. Determining that their duel was officially over, Draco reached his hand down and helped the Gryffindor into a sitting position.

"Yeah," Harry reassured himself as much as the blonde across from him, "I think the room kept placing cushioning charms wherever I fell. I'm hardly injured at all."

"You mean besides..." Draco awkwardly pointed to his own nose. When the feeding tube was pulled out, no amount of Harry's reassurance that it happened plenty of times before and while it was extremely uncomfortable when it happened he would ultimately be alright, eased the Slytherin's mind. After that, Harry noticed his opponent's spells were roughly half of their previous strength.

"It's really fine," Harry reassured the other teen, "Madam Pomfrey can put a new one in, she has all the supplies just in case."

"Look at you," the Slytherin jested, "making our poor healer have to learn all sorts of new tricks."

"I like to think that she's probably happy to have something a little more challenging than passing out Pepper Up potions all winter."

"After all the time I spent there, you're probably right," Draco nodded his head in agreement. There was a heavy pause between them before Draco sat down across from Harry, his knees bent casually, and asked, "So what happened to trigger this impromptu duel? You're not really supposed to be dueling, or out of our quarters, so I'm guessing something had to have happened."

"I'm not going back there," Harry surprised himself saying out loud. "I can't explain it all… not now, possibly not ever, but it was bad."

"Between you and Severus?"

Unable to find his voice, Harry didn't respond. There was no way he could tell anyone, let alone Draco, what he'd seen in the vision. For all he knew, the Malfoy heir had already known about it. His father was a prominent Death Eater at that time, so it was possible - probable even - that all the Death Eaters knew what their fellow comrade did for their cause and Draco may have grown up hearing all about it; just like how the other teen knew about Sirius before Harry did. Eventually, he would need to tell Hermione, Ron, and probably Dudley because if not he would practically explode inside from the stress of it coursing through his mind. It just wasn't the right time yet, he hadn't been able to unravel his own feelings about it all, in his own mind space, and he had to do that before he started getting anyone else's opinion on it all.

The very first thing he had to do though, was make a visit to the hospital wing. No matter how much he hated going there, he knew it was what was best for him right now. Madam Pomfrey should also probably check him out, even if he was sure the Room had provided more than ample comfort to keep him safe.

"Yeah, between me and Snape," Harry sadly said, standing to signify that he was done with the conversation. "I'm going to head to the hospital wing and get this taken care of and then find Professor McGonagall."

"Do you want me to tell Severus where you are?" the blonde mirrored Harry's movements walking slowly to the exit.

"I really don't care what you tell him," the Gryffindor called over his shoulder, but stopped in his tracks when he heard Draco gasp in pain directly behind him. When he turned, his eyes went wide as Draco was clinging to the bracelet that Harry had noticed him wearing, assuming it was a gift from Hermione. "What's wrong?"

Draco fell to the ground still holding onto the piece of jewelry and gritting his teeth in pain, "It's… burning…"

Harry raced over to do what, he wasn't sure. "Is it a summons?" He suggested. "Didn't Hermione give that to you?"

"Not exactly," the Slytherin managed to say. "I've got to go. If you see Severus, let him know I went to the apparition point to see if that will stop the burning."

Harry nodded, but knew that he wouldn't see Snape. Instead, he'd ask McGonagall to tell him because Draco shouldn't be penalized due to his own issues with the defense professor.

The walk to the hospital wing was intentionally slow and the Gryffindor didn't care one bit. He knew once he got there, Madam Pomfrey would ask why he didn't go to Snape for help and he'd have to lie to her. Once he stepped foot into the infirmary, he would no longer be able to hide that nothing happened and he was trying to delay that inevitability as much as possible.

"Mr Potter!" Madam Pomfrey predictably huffed at him when he opened the large doors and entered. "What are you doing up here?"

"Erm," he'd been so focused on what had happened in his vision he didn't think about how to explain his presence to begin with, "I was released from hard quarantine this morning and Draco and I were… practicing Defense when my tube pulled out."

The matron shuffled herself across the room and gestured to one of the beds on his left - the one he was in when he had pneumonia - and Harry sat down patiently waiting. The medi-witch went into her office and returned much faster than Harry was prepared for.

"I know, that you know," she started with a pointed look, "that Severus can do this for you. So I'm guessing you don't want him to know how it came out, and a general diagnostic spell should be done just in case?"

That was one of the things he liked about Madam Pomfrey, she had this uncanny ability to understand when a certain amount of confidentiality was required and she would keep that trust between her and her patient as long as there was no chance of further harm. He assumed she learned this from years of working at a boarding school and ultimately knowing that if she told on every small accident, students would stop coming to her when treatment was needed. As far as he knew, she never told the headmaster or any of the other professors how Hermione ended up as a cat for all those weeks.

"As long as there's no injuries that require your doctor to be called," she explained as she was getting ready to do an overall diagnostic scan before replacing his nasogastric tube, "I won't need to notify Severus. However-"

Unfortunately, the matron was interrupted by the doors swinging open and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall storming into the hospital wing, followed shortly by Hermione carrying the Marauder's Map. Harry audibly gulped knowing they were here because of him.

"Where have you been, Harry?" Professor McGonagall spoke first approaching his bed.

"...the Room of Requirement," he nervously said. "I was just-"

"Of course!" Hermione interrupted so suddenly that all the adults turned to look at her, causing her face to flush, "Um… the Room wouldn't show up on the map if one asked for a place to hide."

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Harry watched the two professors carefully. There was something in their eyes - and Hermione's - that told him something had happened. "What's going on? You weren't just looking for me were you?"

"No, Harry," McGonagall placed her hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "I'm afraid we have some rather… startling news."

Harry sat there, his heartbeat rising as he tried to anticipate whatever it was that could have happened.

"When Severus didn't see you or Mr Malfoy on this rather intriguing map," his guardian continued, "he assumed, as would I, that you were no longer on the school grounds, and he went to Hogsmeade to check for you both there."

Somehow, Harry knew where this was going already. Something happened when he'd left the boundary of the school wards and Harry was pleading through his eyes that they were wrong.

"We've gotten word," Dumbledore took over the conversation when McGonagall seemed unable to continue, "from our guard at Malfoy Manor that Severus has been seen entering one of the guest houses on the property with Lucius Malfoy and Rabastan Lastrange."

No, no, no! What have I done?!