~~~~HP~~~~

Thursday 17th, April 1997

Dr Swanson had been right - as she usually was - that by adding the melatonin on the non-ritual nights to help Harry sleep, would better his mental health overall. His new chemotherapy schedule had taken some getting used to, but after a month he knew the exact tablets to take and when to take them, which helped ease the anxiety of the unknown and made his first of 36 months relatively easy, especially compared to the previous nine months. Looking back, it was hard and he still had a long way to go until the cancer was behind him, but was proud he'd endured it and sad that he had no one to share this moment with. If this had been back at Hogwarts - before the vision - he would be able to go to Snape about this, and he could almost hear the man's prideful baritone voice tell him that was an accomplishment and he should feel good about how far he'd come. Instead though, he was being held hostage and "protected" not for his own good this time, for Voldemort's. He was now approaching his second IT and IV treatment this Saturday and he was starting to understand how patients could miss those very necessary appointments. Each day since his treatment last month, he'd been getting stronger and starting to feel just a little more normal and a little more like his pre-cancer self.

Roughly two weeks ago, when he was finally caught up on as much sleep as he would be able to get and he'd compiled all the notes he could about his various Death Eater guards, Harry decided to venture out of the safety of his cell. His first time leaving the small room in almost a month - and January since he'd technically been outside - was a little overwhelming to his system. It didn't help that he'd had Yaxley as a guard, who somehow didn't seem to mind "babysitting the Boy-Who-Lived" as Dolohov snickered to them when they passed. The Gryffindor was still trying to figure out the exact dynamic of the Death Eaters at the Manor. There were certain ones, like Yaxley, who didn't seem to mind being on guard duty and others who made it clear that the only reason he and Draco weren't being torn limb from limb was because of their orders and they clearly didn't understand or agree with them. So far, Harry flat out refused to go when either Carrow was on guard, too afraid after a close call with an Avada Kedavra curse that raced by his head to kill a bug near the hedge maze.

So far, Harry had been lucky not to have to see Voldemort and he had a feeling that was not coincidental. Whispers throughout the corridors spoke about his declining health and the potions - that presumably Snape was making - aiding with the effects. The young wizard had to think back to what the Leukemia symptoms had been like without the chemotherapy and admittedly, he had a hard time differentiating them. He'd been really tired, going as far as falling asleep in those last few classes of last year, and he was bleeding a lot, both as bruising and nosebleeds. That last observation made him laugh when he thought about the serpentine wizard bleeding from his almost non-existent nose and he wanted to go as far as to make a sketch of it and keep it by his bedside table. The point, though, was that Voldemort didn't suddenly get better the day he'd take the potions and that made Harry feel just a little more justice to his own struggle with his treatments, especially when he thought about the crossroad he could have taken.

In those two weeks he'd been leaving his room, he also came to the conclusion that it was not coincidental - or accidental - when their Death Eater escorts walked them different ways through the Manor. He could only assume it was to keep him guessing where to go in the massive mansion - making it harder for him to map it out by morning - or to keep him away from others who might be wandering the halls; freely - like the Death Eaters - or also guarded, like Healer Walker, Dr Swanson, or Snape. That wasn't to say the time in the corridors was wasted because he'd never be able, or more accurately patient enough, to map it out. Tapping into his newer Slytherin side, he used the time from his bedroom through the corridors out to the same area in the back garden, to test his boundaries a little at a time. It started with his physical boundary by seeing how far he could separate himself from the Death Eater of the day, finding that some liked him to be within arms reach while others never let go of his wrist, shoulder, or upper arm. Then he tested his mental boundaries by asking seemingly random questions about the manor like: where were they, when was the Manor built, how many bedrooms and lavatories were there, what was the biggest Malfoy family to live here - which none of them knew - and was there a fireplace in every single room? Some of the questions were innocent and a way to hide his true intentions, but others were ways he could add to his notes as he tried to find a way out of their complicated situation.

Today, the afternoon before a ritual, he was sitting out by the large fountain listening to the running water trickle down the stone sides in a calming cadence that reminded him of Shell Cottage; no matter what his current feelings were for the professor, he missed the sea and his time at the cottage with Snape. Back there, life had been simple and after the vision of the New Year's Eve attack, he should have tried to convince Snape not to leave. Nothing was really waiting for him back at Hogwarts, they could have stayed hidden there until it was safe to remove the soul fragment, living their life in a simple manner. He'd been watching the fountain from the bedroom window since the day they arrived a month ago, however the water did not start flowing until he started sitting next to it each afternoon. It could have a magical way to sense the presence of a visitor and that person's need to see and hear the water, but if he had to bet, he would put his galleons on Narcissa activating it for the young wizard.

Unlike most fountains Harry had previously seen in his muggle and wizarding experience, this one was rectangular with each of the corners cut giving it an odd, but elegant shape. It had seven square layers reach up and out at various angles allowing the water to flow in a way that had to have some level of magic involved. Since his magic ban in July, he'd gotten used to living as a magicless wizard - refusing to call himself a squid since his condition was hopefully only temporary - yet he was still amazed with the things magic could accomplish. That was one of the reasons he was drawn to this particular section of the gardens to add notes to his sketchbook and work on his sketching as a way to hide his subterfuge. Between the overly colorful flowers and the running waters from the fountain, it was the closest place to relaxing that he could ever find in the large - too much for his liking - and dark mansion.

The weather hadn't always been as clear and crisp as it was on that Thursday, and he was thankful every morning he awoke and saw the warm sun shining through the navy curtains of their picture window. On days it was rainy and dreary, he couldn't stand the cold seeping into his bones as well as Draco could, and on those days had to settle for a quick walk around the garden. Originally, he planned not to subject himself to those elements, still unsure how his body would react to the weather and he hadn't wanted to risk pneumonia again, but he quickly discovered that certain Death Eater guards - specifically Goyle, Macnair, and Mulciber - were more likely to ease up on their watch of him and Draco during the worst of the weather, allowing him to scope out their physical boundaries of the gardens more effectively. So far, he'd discovered that no matter the weather or the guard, they were forbidden to enter the maze, drawing his attention to its possible future use.

While he couldn't gather as much information on the sunny and warm days, it always helped him to clear his mind so he could work his way through whatever the latest problem was plaguing it. Today that was finding more ways to explore inside the Manor, because knowing how to leave the property only worked if they could actually get outside of the Manor first and their small walks through the corridors from point A to point B are extremely time consuming to plot out.

"You've been pouring over that notebook for weeks," Draco's taunting voice declared as he approached the fountain from behind. Unlike Harry, who always opted for the most comfortable of clothing - though given Draco's selection, it contained no muggle jeans - the Slytherin still tried to dress as if he were simply home for a holiday, and therefore was in a nice crisp set of black and silver robes. He was accompanied by his own guard - Avery today - and Harry quickly turned the page to one of his many in progress drawings; him and Snape sitting on the porch at Shell Cottage, "What are you working on?"

Things with the Malfoy heir had taken a comfortable turn over the last month as they fell into a pleasant rhythm and routine. With ritual nights keeping them up long into the night, every other day they would often have a lie in the next morning with neither boy waking up until late morning. The first week of those long ritual nights started out stressful and tense as they adjusted to each other's role in the events. Harry took it upon himself to try to keep Draco as distracted as possible in the hours leading up to his "collection" - as the blonde had started referring to the time the Death Eaters arrived - and most of the time he accomplished this by either talking to the teen about growing up in the wizarding world or more simply just playing games; chess being their favorite. Back at Privet Drive and his home in Hogwarts, when Harry played many games of chess with Snape, the professor let the young wizard organically learn what his mistakes were and how to better strategize. Here, in their middle of the night games, Harry learned that Draco was a natural instructor of the game and he fell into an almost calming state walking Harry through each of his mistakes or potential mistakes. Typically, this would frustrate the Gryffindor and he would have hexed his roommate long ago, admittedly though, Draco was very effective at teaching it, meaning their games became significantly more interesting, plus it helped Harry think more strategically in his overall plan to escape. For the latter, he figured out long ago that couldn't just take a run for it and hope to make it past the wards - for one, as far as he could tell, their room was all the way in the corner of the second story, and for two, they would encounter far too many Death Eaters along the way - so he was using that time with the Slytherin to learn to be a little more cunning with chess as their guide.

Each night after Draco left for the ritual, Narcissa would come and stay until her son arrived back, staggering just as much as he did that first night and she immediately fell into a caretaker role for the other wizard. Harry found himself wondering if Draco's healer ambition wasn't so random after all and if his mother had ever thought about that profession. As far as he knew, the elder Malfoys didn't work - their hefty bank vault and he was sure current investments kept them well off - but every child had aspirations growing up and he felt like Narcissa's was probably healing. That led him to his own parents; what did they want to do before they joined the Order and we're forced into hiding from an event driven by Snape? Whenever the Gryffindor's thoughts were brought back to the prophecy and Snape's role in it, he tried his hardest to shake it away, trying not to let them take over and distract him.

By the second week of the rituals, Harry and Narcissa knew that Draco was gone for approximately an hour and a half, therefore the Malfoy matriarch could have simply come right before his expected arrival. However Harry quickly ascertained that her presence in the room with him was as much for her comfort as for Draco's when he returned. Although he had no parental frame of reference, he could easily see how knowing her son was locked away getting his blood drained for about an hour would be overwhelming and even sitting next to her previous enemy could help comfort that anxiety. Most of the time they didn't say much to each other, other times she asked him about his friends and school. As the days turned into weeks, he started to become more comfortable with her company though he was still very guarded in the information he told her. Deep down, he couldn't help but think that Snape would be proud of him for learning some type of self-preservation, and that recognition hurt him inside.

"Why do you care?" Harry retorted back to his roommate.

"Just trying to make conversation on this beautiful spring day," Draco walked confidently over and sat himself on the edge of the fountain trying to peer over onto Harry's work. "Plus, that thing's been practically attached to your side since you got it."

"It keeps my mind busy," the Gryffindor closed the book forcefully in hopes of keeping the other wizard out his business. Then in an effort to make Draco as uncomfortable as he was about his sketching, he asked, "What did Lucius want last night?"

The question had its intended effect and threw the Slytherin off. If it were proper form to gape, that's how Harry would have described the other wizard towering over him. It was only a matter of time before the Patriarch of the manor would visit his son, and Harry was surprised it hadn't happened earlier. Being the catalyst to Draco's paradigm shift back in July - not to mention the entire reason they were all here to begin with - Harry had no intentions of seeing the older wizard ever again. Therefore when their door opened, right after Harry had returned from the shower and had gotten into bed, he turned towards the wall with his back to the father and son, pretending to be asleep. To his credit, Draco sounded angry with his father when they spoke, and somehow Harry didn't think this conversation wasn't as random as the Malfoy heir wanted it to be.

"He wanted to apologize."

"That's interesting," Harry commented, "because from my side of the room, I didn't hear the word 'sorry' once."

Draco shook his head, "You don't get it. Not everything requires the level of explicit verbiage that you Gryffindors expect. Some things can be implied. What I did get was information. They're working together to get us all out of here - him and Snape are."

Draco's eyebrows lifted and he gestured with his head towards Harry's sketchbook like that was supposed to somehow make him feel comfortable about it all.

"That's not saying much," the Gryffindor grumbled.

"You have to stop this," Draco called out as quietly yet firmly as he could, "Whether you like it or not, it is the best option we have right now."

The other wizard wouldn't know about Harry's own reconnaissance in trying to get them out. Historically speaking, he hadn't always thought things through and he definitely always either had help or had gotten lucky in escaping out of Voldemort's clutches. At some point he'd hoped he would have picked up enough from the past five years to be able to do this alone, not trusting a single soul in the Manor, besides Healer Walker and Dr Swanson, neither of whom could help them.

"I disagree," he toed the pebbles on the ground in front of him, challenging Draco's declaration.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco said exasperated, "You're letting your emotions over certain individuals cloud your judgement."

"You're honestly not the best person-"

"Like bloody hell I'm not," Draco interrupted while moving closer to the Gryffindor, still keeping a keen eye on their guard, "My father totally pissed away my chances of safety and you don't see me making a fuss about it. I know an opportunity when I see one and this is it. I'm not about to let something like fulfilling my need to place blame get in the way of my freedom. Unless of course you have a way of communicating with people on the outside?" The blonde paused, his grey eyes narrowed as if he were contemplating who would be the next dark wizard to try and take over, "That's what I thought. Seriously, let's get everything out on the proverbial table… I know about the vision you had last month."

The statement was made so bluntly that Harry practically choked on his own saliva. He'd expected the question about what had happened between him and Snape, he'd also expected the other wizard to know about the prophecy in general, but he hadn't expected him to know specifically about the vision. Harry steeled his face and with as much conviction as he could and replied, "I don't care if you do."

"Of course you care," Draco leaned in, never losing sight of their guard, "otherwise you would have said something about it already instead of wallowing in your self-pity."

Harry clenched his jaw trying not to let his anger lash out misdirected at the wrong person.

"And?" he prompted, knowing that if Draco brought it up, there had to be a reason why. The Slytherin didn't question things like this without a self-serving reason.

"And," the other teen said in his typical overconfident drawl, "I think you need to get over it. Now that things are settling, and that's coming from the person who gets his arm sliced opened every other night, you being in this-" he waved his hand over Harry, like that made things completely self-explanatory, "- state isn't going to help us think rationally about things."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry went to stand, but was held back by Draco's pale hand placed firmly on his shoulder, giving him a small tug. Instinctively, Harry quickly turned around with his fist clenched in place ready to hit the person - not logically thinking it was Draco - who was grabbing him.

"Oi, Potter!" The Slytherin yelled, ducking away from the incoming punch. This, of course, caught the attention of their two Death Eater guards.

It took Avery a whole two steps to painfully grab Harry by his arm and the young wizard knew he'd have fingerprint bruises there, "If you don't behave," the rough voice called so closely into Harry ear that his hot breath tickled over his neck, "I'm sure we can find another activity to keep you busy."

With a firm scowl on his face, Harry swallowed his pride and relaxed his body knowing that if he fought, things would only end up worse. Eventually the Death Eater released him, mumbling something about taking care of them himself as he went back to his post near the hedge maze.

"Sorry, just-" Harry shook his head, "-don't touch me, alright?"

"As I was saying," Draco ignored Harry's comment and lowered his voice, "there's more important things to consider than what happened 17 years ago."

"You obviously have no idea what he did if you think I can just 'get over it'," the Gryffindor spat back, not taking his eyes off the two Death Eaters now pacing across the entrance of the maze.

"You really want to know what I think?" Draco asked. Harry mumbled "no", but it fell on deaf ears, "I think you're missing the glaring truth in all of this!"

"He's the reason my parents were killed!" This time he didn't hold back his voice and was met with two sets of evil eyes on them. "It's confusing enough, alright? I don't need you getting involved."

"Who are you trying to fool?" The blonde said almost laughing, "Everyone knows your parents were marked the moment they fought against him, the whole Order was. The truth is that had whatever happened that Halloween night not happened, he would have won, and they probably would have been killed at some point anyways, but then it would have been for nothing. At least this way you get to say they died protecting you."

"Whatever good that did," Harry replied sullenly.

"There you are going all Hufflepuff again," the blonde tried to reason.

"So what?" Harry started pacing, his feet crunching and shifting on the smooth pebbles surrounding the fountain, "I'm supposed to thank Snape for getting my parents killed and not giving a damn if I was too?!"

"Do you actually want the truth this time? Or would you rather keep living in your own pretentious world?" Draco jumped off the side of the fountain, but didn't match the Gryffindor's pacing, instead opting for tossing fallen leaves into the fountain and watching them take the wild journey around the falls.

"Of course I want the truth," he lied, not so sure he was ready to hear it.

"Snape saved you," Draco tossed the last leaf into the water and walked darkly up to Harry. "So, yeah, you should thank him instead of holding whatever virtuous connotations you have over his head."

Somehow Harry felt more intrigued than angry, which he expected to feel being told he should thank the person who led his parents to their death.

"How do you figure?" At this point, both teens had started the walk back inside the mansion as evening was approaching. Tonight was a ritual night and therefore they would be up late; not like it made much of a difference to them in the long run. Harry took note of both Death Eaters following not so far behind.

"Think about it like this, rumor has it," the blonde said it in such a way that Harry could tell this was not an educated guess, "he asked for your mother to be saved and the Dark Lord rewarded him by granting that request. Now what would have happened if it hadn't been Severus that night?"

Harry quietly and strategically thought about that question. What would have happened had Snape not brought the prophecy to Voldemort? If Draco was right - and as the son of a Death Eater he probably was - that Voldemort was as close to winning the war as he'd previously mentioned, there was a high probability one or both of his parents would have been killed anyways. So many of the original Order perished in the first war, and his parents had never stopped fighting even after he had been born. Pride filled him up at that last thought. They were true Gryffindors standing up for the righteous path, even in the face of death. Yet at the same time, he also wished they would have considered what leaving their only child orphaned would have done.

Then there was the chance that Voldemort found out about the prophecy some other way. What would have happened then? The second part of the vision played back in his mind, but this time instead of focusing on Snape's insistence that he couldn't give a damn about Harry or his father getting killed, so long as his mother lived, he remembered Voldemort saying "As you wish, Severus. I shall leave young Lily Potter as repayment for what you've done for me." His mother was given the chance to step aside and yet she didn't. It was a detail so small, he'd completely overlooked it: if it weren't for Snape's love for his mother, Voldemort wouldn't have given her that choice. If Snape hadn't brought the prophecy, Voldemort would have had no reason to give his mum that choice; she would have been killed outright, just as Neville's parents would have if they'd been targeted instead. In a way Draco was right, Snape inadvertently led to his own survival and Voldemort's downfall, saving the wizarding world. Maybe he was truly destined not to have his parents alive with him? If that were true and he could accept his fate, what good was it holding this over the only other person who seemed to care about him. Was it really worth throwing away a potential future - making the assumption they could get out of there alive and the soul fragment removed - for something that happened almost a lifetime ago? Wasn't he then punishing himself more than Snape? Didn't he deserve to be happy? Those were all questions only he could answer, but deep down he knew them; he wanted to be happy and he wanted that with Snape. If it weren't for his brain pulling him back to the prophecy, his heart knew exactly what he wanted and this time he was going to make sure he got it.

The two teens had made it back into the Manor where their respective guards took a hold of their upper arms. Harry barely noticed, nor did he care that they couldn't continue to have this conversation with the guards so close; at this point, it was up to him and he'd made his decision. As he walked through the corridors, almost in a trance, he tabled the epiphany to pay closer attention to his surroundings. Interestingly, they were taking the young wizards around and away from the library, the usual path to their cell. That could only mean that something of significance was going on in there and he was dying to know what they'd found. If he had an Extendable Ear, it would make his latest hobby so much easier, leading him back to the conversation that started all of this with Draco: trusting Lucius and Snape to help them.

~~~~SS~~~~

"I think he'll come around," Lucius announced, walking into the small cell where Severus was still imprisoned.

"Harry or Draco?" The professor asked flatly while he was putting the final touches on the next set of potions for the Dark Lord that he would be delivering later that night. With each week's delivery, he had also had the pleasure of being subjected to an undeserved - in his opinion, not the Dark Lord's - round of the Cruciatus and whichever other hexes and curses the evil wizard felt compelled to use that night, and he was not looking forward to it. After each session, when he was dragged back to his cell, Healer Walker had gotten into the routine of healing only the wounds that would prohibit his next week's work as a way to help preserve the small amount of healing potions they had.

Overall, things in the last month had been going relatively well considering he was doing what he could while locked up all but three hours per week. He'd officially swapped over to the toxic method for the potions and with any luck, in only three or four months the Dark Lord would finally succumb to this disease; when the cell count would surpass even what the Blood Ritual could fix. With so much wasted time on his hands - even with making the potions a little each day instead of all on Fridays - he managed to make a very weak Calming Draught for the healer. It wasn't anything he'd normally be proud of creating, and he was certain it had more of a placebo effect on her than providing any actual calming, but it worked to get her through the first two weeks. At that point, she came to her own conclusions that the ritual wouldn't physically harm Draco as well as serving to actually keep the teenager alive for a purpose, plus it was masking any deterioration from the potions, so she had to keep going. Lucius had managed to track down an experimental Blood Replenishing Potion through his family's many apothecary businesses to help his son heal each night. It took some convincing - and training - to get Nadine to discreetly substitute it after the ritual for the real one, but she'd managed and Draco was recovering much faster than he had previously.

Where Severus still struggled was convincing his roommate that Lucius was their key to getting out of there. While the dark wizard would eventually perish from the toxic potions, he'd hoped to be long gone before that event. Between the Lastranges, Carrows, Greyback, and some other key Death Eaters, he wasn't likely to survive once there was even a hint of the Dark Lord's impending death. From his previous experience with Harry in his old reality, it took roughly six weeks for the potions to create fatal levels within his son's blood - a fact that still kept him up far too many nights physically ill - and then another five weeks until he was killed from it. Taking into account that Voldemort's magical levels hadn't been suppressed by a soul fragment blocking a majority of his magical levels, and balancing that with the fact that he'd gone months untreated meant hopefully it would take a similar path, or at least not delay too much longer. In preparation for that event, he needed to get a plan in place and at first that was his primary goal when meeting the Malfoy patriarch, whenever Nadine was not present because of her - most likely well earned - distrust in the man, now though he used the time as a way to also stay grounded in his isolation; so that hopefully he wouldn't lose his mind.

"Both," Lucius replied, taking the place next to Severus at the potions bench, but not daring to touch a thing. The professor didn't know what excuse the blonde used to explain his absence each visit - this one being to deliver him and the potions to the Dark Lord - but after living with only the healer in the room to talk to and the pain the Dark Lord gave each time he left, he didn't really care. "Draco seemed to understand the importance of aligning for a common goal and I trust things will fall into place once we manage to get out of this mess."

"He would," Severus admitted. "Even if you did single handedly manage to derail the Zanzibar plan, he knows that there's only so much any of us can do alone from our current positions, and he'll put aside his current animosity towards you to save himself.

"Harry on the other hand… he's a bit of a wild card. If I know him, he's probably already started to try and figure a way out his own that he doesn't realize will fail. And I'm afraid he'll never trust you if he knows I'm involved, making whatever back of the parchment plan he's working up a liability to our own."

"Draco will get through to him," the other Slytherin confidently answered, narrowing his eyes at his longtime friend and Severus could already tell the question on his mind, "what I want to know is why was the Dark Lord is so sure that particular memory would yield the response it did. You've been asking, practically begging, for any information on the current condition of the Boy-Who-Lived and while I've admittedly been… away… as of late, the last I recall from my son, you were at odds with the Gryffindor prince."

He knew what Lucius wanted to know as it would appear quite odd for Severus's level of involvement with the Gryffindor. The blonde was intelligent enough to know something had changed, but even he wouldn't be able to figure out on his own that the professor is not the same as he had been. It was a moment of truth for them: could he put his trust in the same wizard who orchestrated the Department of Mysteries mission essentially killing Harry's Godfather? Regardless of Severus's own feelings about the animagus, it was still something that deeply affected the young wizard, and therefore its significance could not be ignored. This was also the same man that wedged the vision of the prophecy between himself and Harry to begin with, an event that ultimately led to their current circumstances. And yet he found himself wanting to talk about, about the life he'd left behind, about Harry's death; a date that was approaching at a rate much faster than Severus was mentally prepared for. He could easily blame it on the isolation, but he'd be lying; it was his own desire that was pushing him along.

"Harry was my son," he found himself saying before he could convince himself otherwise. "Back where… I don't even know where… I adopted him in his second year-" he looked up and saw the confused and highly skeptical face of the most proper man Severus had even known, "- there was a potion…"

That was all it took for the other wizard to pull up a stool to listen. Much to Severus's surprise and relief, Lucius didn't interrupt him no matter how mental he must have sounded. In fact, it felt completely different telling Lucius - more satisfying simply because the other wizard knew Severus on a different level - then when he'd told Minerva all those months ago. The professor talked about his old reality and the event that led to his paradigm shift with the young wizard in his first year, he talked about the adoption process and fixing up Spinner's End, he talked about the Triwizard Tournament and how he'd gotten Harry out of it, and finally, he told all about the cancer diagnosis and the infamous potions versus chemotherapy - without mentioning the cause of the sudden shift to Harry's terminal diagnosis - and, of course, Harry's death. He was certain the wizard across from him had never felt the grief Severus had been feeling to lead him to taking an unknown potion that would land him somewhere completely different, however the look in the patriarch's eyes told him that while he'd probably never admit to such a thing, he could understand why Severus had made the choice he did.

"And the Dark Lord?" Lucius predictably asked. "I imagine picking up your other duties would have been difficult while trying to explain being the parent to the one who vanished him."

The professor shook his head, "He never returned there."

There was a long pause as the man next to him envisioned what their lives without the Dark Lord would be like now. It was a reality that even Severus found himself questioning often in the past month; he wouldn't be locked away, but he wouldn't have Harry here and even this Harry - the one he'd come to love for his own unique self - was better than none.

"He'll come around, Severus," Lucius reiterated, changing the topic back to Harry and mirroring the beginning of their conversation that afternoon.

"I'd be surprised if he ever wanted to speak with me again," the professor sadly replied, "And I can't say I would blame him. I should have been honest. It's why he cannot know I'm involved and why we need Nadine's assistance for this to work. She seems to have at least a little of his trust already."

"That brings about another set of challenges," Lucius answered, cryptically, his eyes looking past Severus over to the healer's mattress bed and not for the first time the professor wanted to ask what had happened between the two of them to cause so much hatred.

"Have you made contact?" The dark-haired wizard asked, boxing up the last of the potions; it was almost time for his weekly torture session. He'd given Lucius enough information to be able to touch base with the Order, so they'd at least be able to have some kind of communication method out of the Manor. It was archaic - nothing more than sending a missive with a well trained peacock - and Severus had his doubts that it would work, but apparently there was a use for those ridiculous birds after all.

"I have," the blonde Slytherin stood straight preparing, "they've been informed how to send word back once things start moving."

"Perfect," he replied. With the Order notified of their situation, he could move onto solving the problem of how to either get them out, or more likely, the Order into the Manor. "Now all that's left is finding a way to actually get out here."

"I just happen to have an idea about that," Lucius smiled as he said it and Severus thought this was going to be either the best idea in the wizarding world or an absolutely awful one.

~~~~AU SS~~~~

"I guarantee you, Harry, this place is haunted."

Severus knew he shouldn't have been listening to what was being said in the kitchen from his worn armchair in the sitting room while attempting to read through the latest Potions Journal. Unfortunately, their Spinner's End home was so tiny that the only place Harry or Severus could be guaranteed any real privacy was in their respective bedrooms; a fact Severus hated as a child growing up. Therefore, he validated to himself that he couldn't necessarily be blamed for overhearing the conversation that was being had between Harry and Ron while they finished dinner without their professor watching their every move.

It was a week after celebrating Harry's 12th birthday, his first in Severus's care, when the young wizard asked if Ron could stay over sometime before the start of term. Completely unsure of the guidelines for friends staying over - even those of the same gender - the Potion's Master did the one thing he could think of and firecalled Molly Weasley. She was kinder to him then he would have expected about his juvenile questions, but having raised seven children - six of them boys - she was able to provide him the best information on his plethora of questions. In the end, she sent Ron over right after lunch, surprising the young raven-haired wizard with his first friend staying the night.

"It's not haunted Ron," his charge told his friend. "I've been here for weeks and haven't seen a single strange thing happen."

"I dunno, mate," Ron replied, nervously, "look around you. It looks like someone could have died here. And the fact Snape grew up in this very house just makes it worse."

Unbeknownst to the two Gryffindor's, Severus gave a small scowl at that last sentence. There were definitely ghosts in the walls of the small home, but not the paranormal kind the youngest Weasley wizard was implying. No, the things that lived in these walls were haunted memories of his drunk father not giving a damn who he hurt in his own destructive path. It was a constant reminder to the professor to never - again - raise his hand at Harry. He got lucky he didn't actually hit the child that night back in December and it was something he was thankful for each and every day. The more he could separate himself from Tobias Snape, the better, however as he was stepping into a mentor role for the young wizard, it was something he had to constantly remind himself: that he was not Tobias, even if his temper was shorter than he liked.

"You should have seen the place before Severus and I fixed it up," he heard Harry say and the professor flushed in embarrassment. It wasn't as if he expected Harry not to notice the complete disrepair of the place, but to hear him say it so casually to his friend, was different. Perhaps he should place a silencing ward up to give them some privacy.

"Was it that bad?" Ron asked, incredulously. "Did you find anything proving he's a vampire?"

Harry laughed, "He's not a vampire! And yeah, the place was a complete disaster, but it was fun getting to fix it up. I enjoyed getting to spend the time with him."

"And you're sure you didn't find any body parts waiting to be turned into potions ingredients?"

Severus rolled his eyes. It was no secret that his students thought he might be a vampire - or at a bare minimum an animagus that took on the form of a bat - and that he apparently liked to collect children for potions ingredients. His claim that keeping the student body terrified of him was to help keep them focused on the work in front of them, had its merits. In comparing Herbology incidents to Potion's, his class was easily superior 3 to 1; and that's not counting the fact that potions was a far more dangerous course overall.

"So tell me the truth," Ron said, "what's it like living with Snape of all people?"

At that point, the professor raised his ebony wand and cast a Muffliato on the door separating the kitchen from the sitting room before going back to reading his Potion's Journal. It was one thing to listen in on a conversation that had to do with his old house being haunted - something he used to think as a child - and completely different to eavesdrop on one about himself. Things between him and the Gryffindor had been going well, at least thus far, and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. Neither of them knew what the next school year would bring, but Severus had already been contemplating the idea that he wanted Harry to live with him on a more permanent basis. It wasn't some epiphany he'd had, but once the basic idea culminated in his thoughts, he knew it wouldn't leave. If they could make it through this summer without any issues, maybe he could see Harry wanting to take the leap to live with him.

"Y'know, now that I think about," Severus heard Harry whisper later that night, as the two almost teenage boys were heading up to bed, "sometimes I hear a woman screaming from my room. I think it might be coming from where Severus's potions lab is now."

The professor simply smirked and shook his head when Ron stopped dead in his tracks only steps from Harry's bedroom door; his face pure white in horror. It had more than eased his mind that he and Harry would get along just fine together for years to come.