~~~~AU SS~~~~

It had been one of the hardest weeks of Severus's life. He'd been pushed to his limits, completely exhausted, and emotionally drained. Sirius and Molly hadn't left their quarters since Harry's condition had taken a turn for the worst only three days ago and according to Alton and Healer Walker they should be prepared for it to happen any time. Naturally, that meant Severus was sleeping as little as possible, just so he could spend as much time with his son as possible. He'd have plenty of time to sleep after; what else would he have?

In the five weeks since Harry's terminal diagnosis, they'd gone through all the necessary arrangements, something that distressed the professor greatly, but somehow calmed Harry's nerves over it all. It helped the young wizard come to accept what was going to happen to him. Severus, though, wanted to protest; not the decisions - whatever Harry wanted was fine by him - but the fact that he had to think about it at all. No amount of preparation was going to make the funeral arrangements any easier once Harry was gone.

They'd done all they could to keep Harry comfortable, no longer needing to worry about the addictive qualities of the strong muggle or wizarding medications, and each day Severus could tell it was getting closer. Each day Harry was awake and lucid less and less. Originally, they were supposed to go to Spinner's End, except Harry was adamant he stay going to classes as long as he could and when that was no longer possible, he wanted to be close to his friends, and then finally it was decided he'd be more comfortable in the castle. No matter what home they'd built together, Hogwarts had always been Harry's first real home and this was where he should be when it was over.

The exhaustion was evident in everyone who stepped into their quarters, however on the morning of the 15th Severus knew it would be the end. Harry was too tired of holding on and the professor knew it was time to let his son go. He'd get to see Lily and James again, he'd be in no more pain, and he'd have no more expectations on him, what more could a father want for his dying son? It would be selfish to keep Harry here through the pain only to prevent his own pain; he needed to let go.

Since it was a Thursday and they had no idea how long Harry would still be here, Albus had excused Harry's friends from classes and they came in and out of their quarters throughout the day. At first it angered Severus, for reasons he wasn't even aware of, but Molly did her best to help temper his anger and it ended up being a good distraction. The last thing he needed - even if he didn't know it at the time - was to be sitting idle and waiting. He cried and he didn't care who saw him. At this point Minerva, Albus, and, much to his own embarrassment, Molly and Sirius, had seen that happen plenty of times in the past couple of weeks; when they thought it was time, but then Harry kept holding on.

By the time the sun had gone down, his quarters were quiet again with only himself, Molly, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione present. Dinner had been brought to them by a set of house elves and it remained untouched by any of them on the table in the sitting room while they all sat around Harry's bedroom. Roast beef; that was the meal served in the Great Hall that night and to the mourning occupants in the dungeon quarters the evening before Harry died, and Severus was sure he'd never be able to eat that again without thinking of his son.

By curfew, much to their chagrin, Ron and Hermione were forced to leave. It was heartbreaking to watch Harry's two best friends say goodbye to him knowing that he probably wouldn't be here when they returned in the morning. Molly did her best to comfort them because there was nothing Severus could say. Even before all of this, he wouldn't know what to say to someone in their position. It wasn't ok, no matter what others told him. They wouldn't be ok. Eventually, they would all have to try to move on, but Severus knew he wouldn't. He didn't know what he would do without Harry here.

When there were only the three adults left for the night to be with the young wizard, they stayed up and waited. Molly brought coffee as often as needed. They barely talked - Molly only to see if there was anything she could do - they just listened to Harry's strained breathing and the small clock on the bedside table ticking away the seconds… one o'clock in the morning… two o'clock in the morning… three o'clock in the morning - when Sirius and Molly left for the sitting room to give Severus time alone with his son - until half past three o'clock in the morning when the raspy breathing was no longer heard. He sat there, completely unable to move or think about anything besides how his world had come crashing down.

He needed to go and let Molly and Sirius know that it was over, Harry was in a better place - wherever they thought that was - and most importantly, he wouldn't be in pain any longer. That walk to the sitting room was one of the longest in his life. Having taken the walk so many times over the last two weeks, he could do it with his eyes closed and he practically did because he had zero recollection of it. No words were exchanged - they didn't need to be to know what had happened - Severus simply gave a very small nod.

Then on his way into the room, fully planning on sinking into his favorite armchair, he caught sight of the adoption certificate on the fireplace mantle and his heart lurched. Taking a detour to the fireplace he took a moment to look at all of the pictures highlighting some of their best memories over the years, allowing his grief to fill him up about the ones he'd now miss: Harry's acceptance into the auror program, his wedding, and if he decided to have children, the birth of his kids. Without thinking, he picked up the clock on the mantle and threw it against the wall to his left, under the enchanted window depicting the black lake under the night sky, and then he fell to the floor in tears.

~~~~ SS~~~~

Thursday 15th, May 1997

Severus opened his eyes on the 15th of May wishing he hadn't; wishing he could continue to sleep straight through this miserable day. He'd considered trying to make a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep, however he needed to be awake and lucid should the Order decide that today was the day they'd be rescued. At this point, Severus had hoped to have been rescued and far away from this nightmare before the anniversary - or actual date - of Harry's death, just so he wouldn't need to be here on top of the awful day. Though technically that wasn't right. On paper, his son had died on the 16th at half past three in the morning, meaning both the 15th and the 16th would always be tainted for him. He remembered it like it was yesterday, and not even everything from this year could come close to erasing the grief and pain he'd felt every single day since he said goodbye.

Breakfast that morning in the cell with Healer Walker was a quiet affair. Each morning since Lucius's visit last Saturday was spent anxiously waiting to hear if that night would be the night; if the Order was ready to move in on the rescue mission. He had to remind himself that the goal of the mission was for rescue, not for arrest, and therefore they would wait until they could enter and exit the Manor with as little detection as possible, in an effort to succeed in their primary goal of rescuing the prisoners locked in the estate. Each morning when no news came, they settled into their daily work; for Severus that was potions and for Nadine it was recovering from the last ritual or mentally preparing herself for the next one. Today though, Severus wasn't making potions; he'd make up for it later.

By midday, even Nadine had picked up that something was eating away at him. She'd kept her distance and neither had spoken a word since waking, an event that in itself was odd because since being brought into the plans she'd become a nervous talker. Today though, he sat silent and she'd picked up on his icy exterior. Severus was sitting before the fireplace, leaning up against his measly mattress with his legs bent, drawing his knees almost directly upward. The healer was sitting on her own thin mattress watching him - and every so often pretending to read - waiting for any indication that he was going to give her an insight into his mind.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" She finally succumbed to the deafening silence and asked the question that had been plaguing her mind. He had no doubt she assumed it had to do with their rescue; perhaps he'd heard it had been called off or some other equally disturbing news regarding it or the Order.

With the grief so close to the surface, he didn't dare trust his voice; relying instead on the look of bitter pain in his eyes to help explain.

"Sometimes it helps to talk things through," she tried again, "I can tell whatever it is, it's deeply affecting you."

Of course it was deeply affecting him; this one event changed his entire life and then by extension, the entire world around them. The moment he drank that potion, he was brought - randomly? - into this new world and forever changed the lives of those around him. How could he be so selfish, especially because now he didn't even have Harry, nor did he know if the young wizard would survive this. Where would this year have brought them had he not drank that potion almost a year ago?

"Today is the day my son died," his voice was scratchy from lack of use and he couldn't make eye contact with her when he'd said it, but simply continued to stare into the fireplace. The dancing flames were so calming and freeing, the two emotions he hadn't felt in too long, and he didn't want to let that go.

"I didn't realize…" she started. "I'm sorry."

Severus could feel her confusion radiating from the other side of the small room, getting closer to him as she approached. Mirroring his position against her own mattress, she tucked her knees to her chest and took turns staring between him and the fireplace.

"How did he-"

"Leukemia," Severus interrupted, not having the energy or the resolve to keep up the charade today.

There was another long pause. The fire crackled between them and he listened carefully in the background for any indication that someone was arriving for them; that he'd be taken far away from here. That wasn't going to happen though. With each passing day that week, and the awful days of the 15th and 16th drew nearer, he was becoming less and less sure that they would in fact be rescued. In the back of his mind, he knew logically it was the anniversary anxiety, but at the same time, he didn't care. He was falling into a blackhole and, similar to what he'd told Harry all those months ago after he restarted classes, unless he told someone it would consume him. Sometime in the space between Healer Walker joining him by the fireplace and saying the word Leukemia out loud, he realized he'd never really dealt with his grief from the death of his son. He spent the five days between his death and the funeral finishing the preparations for the funeral, constantly surrounded by people, and then there was really only one day after the funeral, the day he took the potion. And after the potion… well, he'd gone from one major event to another, and now his grief had worked its way back up to the surface, refusing to be ignored.

Propping his elbows up onto his bent knees, he held his head feeling all the things he'd pushed aside this past year flood back into him. For the fourth time, he started explaining about where he'd come from, thinking that a Ravenclaw like Nadine would most likely deem him completely mental and delusional. She didn't though, and he expected his heavy sorrow pouring through his words probably helped endorse the fact that no matter how far fetched it sounded, he had actually woken up here one morning from a whole different world.

"But he's not the same," the healer added once he'd caught her up to the present. Somehow, telling it to someone who had no recollection of him made it easier. "Harry here is vastly different, and that bothers you?"

"Not at all," it was a logical question to ask, nevertheless he was almost insulted by the insinuation. "I'm very much aware how different they are and it feels like I've now lost him twice."

"You might be surprised," she told him. "He's had plenty of time and space to think about things and situations such as this cause people to rethink what's important in their lives. Do you think Harry would have given you a chance here if it weren't for the circumstances of his cancer? Based on what you've told me about your previous history together and the extra time he spent with his abusive relatives, I'm thinking not."

She was correct, logically, however his brain was too emotional that day to be logical about such a sensitive topic. What would have happened if he'd gotten here years before the diagnosis instead of right before? Or what if Harry didn't have Leukemia in this reality at all? It would have been almost impossible for them to get to where they were alone.

"I don't know," he eventually replied. She didn't buy his feigned ignorance on the topic, but didn't push the topic either.

"It's hard to watch a disease take those we love," she answered, solemnly. "They say it's easier when you know it's coming compared to a sudden death… so you can prepare yourself for it, but it doesn't matter. A death is a death."

A death is a death.

Another absolutely true statement. It had seemed to be a common response to Harry's impending death 'at least he could prepare for it'. Yes, he knew it was coming and the idea that his son could have some part in the funeral arrangements - knowing he wouldn't have to guess his last wishes - was something positive, but nothing could prepare a person to say that final goodbye knowing life would never be the same after that moment. Nothing kept out the thoughts of all the small moments that would forever be missed: packing up for the summer, holidays, and birthdays. And then there was the daily reminders like the fact that Hedwig would have been going home with him alone, missing seeing his son in classes, and simply getting to walk up to the Gryffindor table to congratulate the teen on a well played Quidditch match. It was all too much.

"No," he said to her, turning his head to make eye contact for the first time that day, "it doesn't make it any easier."

She had been there, a fact that he didn't bring up because he didn't want to make things weird between them for however long they had left in this small room together. In this reality, though, there was someone he found himself wishing he'd be able to talk to and it was Dr Swanson. Unfortunately, she saw this debilitating disease rip apart families all of the time, and would have the best idea of how he was feeling. He could tell she held her patients very close to her and their deaths would feel similar to his own experience with it.

Around three o'clock in the afternoon, twelve and a half hours before the true anniversary of Harry's death and exactly twelve hours before the Blood Ritual taking place the next morning, Nadine was called - or collected, as Alton used to say - for the Dark Lord's daily check up. Severus had expected Lucius to be the one to pick her up, and hopefully come with well timed news of their escape, so when Alecto Carrow swung the door open and entered without a word, he naturally assumed today was out. Healer Walker was grabbed by her upper arm and practically dragged by the Death Eater witch and out of the room so quickly, Severus barely had time to process it. Overall, he'd come to recognize that the Carrow siblings were almost as bad as the Lestranges; Bellatrix being the one that tipped the scale towards the latter. Turning back towards the fire, still lost in his thoughts of the day, he didn't immediately notice that the door didn't close as harshly as it should have for the speed of which it was closed. Instead, it was only when the soft click of the door being gently closed did he notice something was wrong.

Without putting too much thought behind his actions, the former spy swiftly stood with his back against the wall to the right of the fireplace and raised his hands to defend himself. It wouldn't do anything against a wand, but it was the only option he had. Being fully prepared to fight, mentally, it took him a second to identify the man in front of him as Lucius.

"Planning to muggle duel me, Severus?" The blonde slowly asked, not at all alarmed at the professor in front of him. "I will say, you've come a long way since your Hogwarts' days, you could probably get at least one hit in."

"It's about time," Severus replied with a scowl, "I take it there's finally some news?"

"Tonight," Lucius answered, it wasn't ideal but of all the days, if nothing else, this would keep his mind busy from just waiting for half past three this morning. If he was lucky - which was a stretch - maybe by the time that milestone came around he would at least be back in the safety of the castle, most likely with Albus in his office or the hospital wing at Poppy's ridiculous insistence.

"Time?" He asked his friend.

"We need to wait until the guards change on the boys' room upstairs," Lucius explained. "Tonight is Yaxley's night, who just so happens to be frustrated with the… detour… in the Dark Lord's original plans, and wouldn't mind seeing him perish to a muggle disease."

"I'm surprised he's advertising the identity of his ailments," the dark-haired wizard skeptically pointed out.

Lucius gave a small smirk, "Let's just say a very targeted rumor was started recently and there's been talk among some of the more traditional followers."

"Do we need to anticipate a coup d'etat?"

Severus wouldn't be surprised at all if that should happen before the Dark Lord was killed from the cancer. It was no secret that a subset of them - specifically some of his earliest followers - had started questioning how they'd gotten so far away from their intended goal: to take back what was rightfully theirs from the muggle world. Somewhere along the way, largely due to the prophecy however Severus would never admit that to just anyone, it turned into a single tasked mission of killing Harry Potter. They were now being told that if he - and he alone - could accomplish that single task, their side would win. It wasn't true though, and even before the cancer started to work its way through his evil body, he had doubts in his ranks; those who knew that a fourteen, then fifteen, and now sixteen year old wizard wasn't the one stopping them from taking over. No, it was the fact that their leader was embarrassed to have been beaten so many times by this child that he needed to show his dominance to win back his followers full faith in him; even he knew they questioned his superiority. As for a coup d'etat? There wasn't enough rank built up by any single marked Death Eater to successfully pull that off. Yaxley or Rodolphus would be the closest second in command, a position that used to belong to Severus, especially after Lucius's failure at the Department of Mysteries, but neither had the blind unanimous support of the other Death Eaters to successfully take over Voldemort's reign.

"Perhaps," the Malfoy patriarch honestly replied, "but we'll be long gone before that happens... I believe after tonight, Zanzibar is in the Malfoys' future."

"It won't be for long," he commented. "I have a strong feeling that the Dark Lord won't last long without the Blood Ritual."

To his credit, Lucius didn't pry for any further information. As the proper man he was, he allowed the statement and his curiosity about it flow over him as he went into the plans for the night.

Yaxley was scheduled to take over the single guard duty at eleven o'clock on Harry's and Draco's room. Since it was a ritual morning, that gave the Order only three hours to breach the premises, make it into the Manor, get the three cells - the two boys, him with Healer Walker, and Dr Swanson - opened, and everyone to leave before their absence was noticed. To help give some extra time, Lucius, as the current master and owner of the wards, was planning on disabling the wards in sections to allow the team to approach as early as possible, and then he'd re-enable them as they made their way towards the Manor. This would be accomplished by having Narcissa casually walk the back gardens, as she'd been doing every night since the conception of the plan, and Lucius going in search of his wife. In a well planned-out - and hopefully fully understood by Moody via the peacock missives - pattern, Lucius would begin disabling and reenabling the wards. Should they fall out of sync at any time or one of the wards fail to fall, the Dark Lord would immediately be notified of a human presence. Severus knew there were suggestions thrown around about sending Minerva in her animagus form, and he hoped that never actually came to fruition.

Once the team neared the wine cellars, they would stay put until the eleven o'clock guard change because the cellars had a more complex set of wards that Lucius couldn't completely disable as they entered the Manor proper. This meant that they would need to work quickly because from that point forward, while there wouldn't be an official alarm to the Dark Lord, a set of Death Eaters - most likely a combination of Macnair, Crabbe, or Goyle - would be sent to investigate. A team would be sent to take down Yaxley a little ahead of the other two because should they be discovered, it was most important to get those two boys out of here. Healer Walker would be the first to be collected for the Blood Ritual tonight, which would also be keeping Bellatrix and the Dark Lord himself occupied, and therefore if the boys could be safe before then, it would be considered a successful mission.

Lucius was conveniently scheduled to guard Dr Swanson's room tonight, though he was never allowed to guard alone and therefore Rabastan would be standing alongside him. The blonde would be responsible for incapacitating Rabastan before the Order team arrived, and it wouldn't surprise Severus if somehow the younger Lestrange brother ended up dead tonight. As long as it was quiet and didn't risk their mission, it would be no real loss to the former spy outside of the fact that he wished he could be the one to do it.

Finally, a distraction - of what, Severus didn't ask because he wasn't sure he wanted to know - would be used to help distract the two guards on his own and Healer Walker's cell. They would be the last to be rescued and Severus wouldn't have it any other way. He didn't plan to tell Nadine about it all until the moment before their door was opened because she would be too on edge the entire night. A combination of hopefully strong Order members would then take down their guards and get them the bloody hell out of there.

The end goal was to get in and out of the Manor without being detected. However, knowing things didn't always go as planned, each team would be bringing extra wands for Severus, Nadine, Draco, and Lucius; giving each team at least one extra fighter should it become necessary. Should it become necessary though, Albus had given direct instructions to cast to kill, something the Order was not used to and likely caused some nerves in the people waiting, at that exact moment, at the Farm.

Lucius departed well before Nadine returned back from whatever it was she did during the Dark Lord's visit, in an effort not to cause any unnecessary animosity before they all needed to depend on one another for their survival. Given their earlier conversation, he let the healer assume his withdrawn mood was mostly due to thinking about Harry. He still was thinking of that, of course, however now he had other things - not more important, merely more immediate - to focus on. The reality hadn't fully settled into his mind that should he survive tonight, he would get to see Harry again, and maybe, just maybe he could try to explain the complexity of what had happened all those years ago.

The first sign that something had gone wrong was when Severus heard a commotion outside of their door far earlier than it should have been. Given that they were supposed to be the last room freed - only after Harry and Draco had made it safely into the tunnels and Dr Swanson on her way there - he hadn't expected anyone coming their way until around one o'clock in the morning. It was over an hour earlier and unless things went extremely smooth, there was something very wrong.

Both occupants of the tiny cell were sitting on their beds when the noise was first heard. The guards outside the door made a small yelp in surprise before it became eerily silent. Severus was instantly on alert and Nadine covered her mouth with her shaking hands as she stood. The former spy followed, standing confident and strong behind the potions workbench to use as cover should they need it.

"Get behind me," he demanded to the scared witch. Right now was a time to be in control, she needed a leader who had been in combat previously and she obeyed, trusting him in a way he was not used to. "Tonight's the night the Order's coming for us, but it's far too early. Something must have triggered a change in the plans."

He hoped whoever was on the other side of that door had the two wands because he was anxious to get out and fight. He'd been locked away for so long, his magic was building up inside of him wanting, aching, to be released.

"Don't you think you should have told me this before now?!"

"I hardly think it's productive to focus on that right now," he called out to her behind him.

They stood still, barely even breathing, when blasts started hitting the heavy door; knowing that they were completely defenseless. It had to be the Order, there was no other reason for the Death Eaters to try to break the door down, but the former spy wasn't about to take any risks.

In a matter of seconds, the door to their cell door burst opened, causing the pair to duck down behind the large laboratory workbench. In the blasting of the door, the fireplace had extinguished leaving the room completely dark with no other source of light available. A cloud of dust fell over the room and he heard sets of footsteps crunching over the wooden door debris slowly getting closer to them. Three small beads of light approached and turning to the trembling witch next to him, Severus held his finger to his lips to signal to her to keep quiet.

"I thought Lucius said he'd be expecting us," came the familiar voice of Bill Weasley directly in front of him.

"Plan's changed," Kingsley replied from the left of the room.

Deciding that such a casual conversation likely meant there wasn't any current danger, Severus stood to show himself to his rescuers. Slowly walking about the room, with their illuminated wands held out in front of them, was Bill Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin.

"You're early," the professor called out, gesturing for Nadine to follow suit.

"The team upstairs ran into some early interference," Bill explained. "Our orders were at the first sound of trouble, to move in immediately."

"Have they gotten to the boys yet?" Severus nervously asked.

"No idea," Lupin answered, "we heard the dueling upstairs and didn't hesitant to get down here. We can only hope they managed to get out before they ran into anyone."

Which meant there was still the chance that Harry and Draco were stuck in their bedroom upstairs oblivious - for the most part - that a rescue team was on their way. He couldn't leave the premises without some kind of knowledge that they would be safe.

"We need to go," Kingsley, the voice of reason, called out to the group, while simultaneously tossing wands to Severus and Healer Walker.

The second the strange wand was in his hand, he could feel his magic excite inside of him. These last two months were the longest he'd ever gone without using magic since turning seventeen. His thoughts wandered to Harry and his circumstances over the past year, plus his loss of magic now. For the first time since that awful original crossroad in his old reality, the professor could understand why his son chose the potions; to protect his magic at the risk - and ultimately the loss - of his own life. The wound from that simple, yet important decision, started to heal inside of him and he could start to put that regret to rest; he could finally admit that given the same option from Harry's position, he would have likely made the same choice of the potions over the chemotherapy.

It was an epiphany that would need to be explored later, because the moment they exited the room into the corridor of the dungeons, they could hear the distinct sounds of a battle overhead.

"I need to make sure Harry gets out," Severus called to the group around him.

"Severus-" Kingsley started what was sure to be a lecture.

"You get Nadine and the others to the Tunnels and I'll make my way to the second story," Severus called out, "unless you think at this point getting out of the anti-apparation wards would be easier."

"Our orders are to get you out of here," the auror argued back, "not go around the Manor on a search mission."

"I'll go with him," Lupin volunteered, causing Severus to narrow his eyes at the werewolf. Now that he had a wand, he certainly didn't require a babysitter, and why would it make a difference if there were two of them? Not wanting to delay this process any further by protesting, Severus nodded his head at the chaperone accompanying him.

"Fine," Kingsley conceded, likely for the same reasons Severus had agreed to Lupin's help.

The five of them walked together, making their way through the corridor as quickly and quietly as possible towards the bottom of the stairs that would lead them up to the ground floor. A quick turn to Kingsley, Severus motioned that at the top of the stairs, he and Lupin would be going to the right - on their way to the caretaker's staircase that would lead them upstairs - while Bill, Kingsley, and Nadine continued to the left towards the buttery and out to the safety of the Tunnels. With nods all around, the group made their way up the stairs.

A quick peek around the doorway showed the area was oddly clear. Given that their cover had obviously been blown, he would have expected more guards sent down to the dungeons. His answer came rather quickly as Fred, or George, Weasley came running up alongside Tonks and Fleur, their wands brandished and faces covered in dust, cuts, and blood.

"She got her!" Tonks yelled at seeing the group emerge from the dungeon corridor. "Your mum was absolutely amazing!"

The Metamorphmagus came jumping up to Bill in an inappropriate manner for the severity of the situation before them. Lupin gave a small smile at her.

"What happened?" Bill asked, but was pulled along by Kingsley muttering that this was not the time to discuss specifics.

"She keelled Bellatreex!" Fleur swung her arms around her fiance. "Zee eveel weetch almost keelled Fred, and Molly attacked!"

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the endearing gesture, though the news that Bellatrix was no longer terrorizing the Earth by simply breathing made him feel a touch better about the pause in their mission for a status update.

"Have they gotten Harry and Draco out?" He asked the trio who had joined them.

"No idea," the younger Weasley brother - obviously George - answered, "we haven't seen them yet, been busy securing the corridors leading to the Tunnels for you lot!"

"You have my sincerest gratitude," the professor distractedly replied. "Let's go Lupin, we have to get upstairs."

Without any further complaints, the pair of wizards made their way around the ground floor of the expansive estate heading towards where Severus knew at least one of the four sets of staircases resided. For their purpose, they would forego the main stairs in the middle of the home in an effort to stay hidden as long as possible, choosing one of the staff staircases in the back of the Manor. They were able to stay in the shadows as much as possible as they made their way to the stairs, passing by the various rooms and the library. They only encountered two Death Eaters - Pettigrew and Travers of all wizards - and were both taken down fairly easily, though neither killed. In a fleeting thought, Severus questioned if Lupin had ever used the killing curse, and if not it wasn't likely something he'd be able to cast.

Unfortunately, as with everything else from that night, that was the easiest their night would go. It would seem that even their benefit of the element of surprise wasn't enough to throw the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord off. As the pair of wizards had made their way up the staircase, they were roughly halfway up when a figure stood before them at the top. Drawing their wands a second too late, both wands instantly flew from their hands in a tandem attack with an assailant that had joined from the bottom of the stairs. Assuming that Severus lived through this, he would curse himself for not reacting with a shielding spell quicker; it could have made all the difference in the end.

"Well, well, well," came the menacing voice of Fenrir Greyback from the top of the stairwell, "look who we found."

Greyback slowly walked towards them with his wand pointed directly at Lupin. Severus was well aware of the history between the two werewolves and backed down the stairs. Upon seeing the former spy on the move, the figure from below - now identified as Augustus Rookwood - moved upwards, until he was close enough to sharply push his wand into Severus back.

"Let's get these two to the drawing room," Rookwood spat out, "I'm sure our master wants to deal with them."

Severus thought quickly of how to find a way out of their current debacle, but from the stairwell, they were out of options. Until they made it out of the small space, there was nothing he could do. Allowing themselves to be taken, the odd pair of wizards - who were at one time mortal enemies and would now need to depend on one another - were forcibly dragged out of the stairway and then pulled the short distance from the stairs to the drawing room.

It was here that Severus had hoped it would work to his advantage to get out of the situation they'd found themselves in. What he didn't expect to see was Minerva, Fred Weasley, Molly, Narcissa, and Lucius, all being held captive by a set of Death Eaters. But it was what he saw next to them that would have stopped him in his tracks had Rookwood not continued pulling him into the room. Standing off to the left from the others, being firmly held by Nott, was Harry. It was his first time seeing the young wizard since the vision back in March and Severus's body was blanketed with a range of emotions he wasn't in any condition to process. Harry was dressed in a pair of black pyjamas that had clearly once belonged to Draco at some point and the young wizard looked healthier than Severus had seen him since starting chemotherapy. The biggest difference though, and one that even despite their grave situation caused Severus to smile, was the thick layer of raven-black hair that had started to regrow on the Gryffindor's head. It was almost a symbol of the good things that could be ahead of them, if only they were anywhere but here. Harry was valiantly trying to pull himself out of Nott's grasp, but the Death Eater wasn't daring to even lighten his grip on the Boy-Who-Lived.

Next to Harry was Avery holding Draco with his arms pinned so tightly behind his back, Severus was sure at least one of his shoulders had been dislocated; not that anyone would have noticed - or cared - as the young Slytherin was also actively trying to get away from his captor. He was proud of Draco's persistence, that he refused to go quietly. With both younger wizards putting up a fight next to each other, it would collectively give at least one of their captors the opportunity to get distracted. For Severus though, this definitely complicated matters because there was no conceivable way that he alone could escape without getting at least one of the other eight people - including Lupin who was brought in right after him - killed.

"Severus," the familiar evil voice of Lord Voldemort called out from behind him. The former Death Eater jerked his body to try to release himself from the grasp of Rookwood, but all that did was cause the wizard behind him to tighten his hold on his prisoner and kick the back of his knees until Severus was kneeling on the drawing room floor.

"You've lost, Severus" the Dark Lord taunted him, "what have you managed to gain tonight? A muggle and magical healer? As long as I still have my soul-" he pointed to Harry, "my blood-" he pointed to Draco, before turning to point at him, "and my cure. You have nothing."

"You seem to be forgetting," Severus added motioning to Harry, "He needs that muggle healer to survive. Otherwise all of this is pointless."

Another sinister laugh echoed through the vast room, from the hardwood floors to the extravagantly decorated cathedral ceiling, "I'll have another horcrux made before that happens. And then? He's useless to me and completely… expendable."

Harry and Draco both continued to struggle against their bindings as Severus surveyed the room around them. They were without wands, outnumbered, but he could hear the bangs and crashes from the floor below his feet. Hope wasn't lost; someone was still fighting and eventually they'd make it up to the drawing room to help. Plus, as the Dark Lord so aptly pointed out, the three of them served a very important purpose. The others in the room became his primary focus.

"Shall I see what other secrets you've been hiding from me?"

Severus knew what was coming even before the Legilimens was cast. As quickly as he could, he pulled up his own Occlumency shields, and tried to push the evil wizard out of his mind. Had it been any other day, he would have succeeded without a doubt, but he was too mentally exhausted on that day.

Naturally the first memory to cross his eyes was the moment of Harry's death, and that solidified his downfall; he knew he was far too emotional to block out anything else. Not that it mattered though; was there really anything else the Dark Lord could find in his mind that he didn't already know? As each memory painfully raced across his mind - Harry's adoption, their first Christmas together, his diagnosis, countless hours spent making potions, Harry's funeral, and his conversation with Albus about the red potion. Switching to this reality, he saw the day he woke up here, watched the countless times he helped Harry through his chemotherapy - both at Privet Drive and at Hogwarts - him watching the young Gryffindor sleep back at Privet Drive, training with Draco, Capture the Dragon with his sixth year students, until finally the Dark Lord ended up on the only true memory that mattered, one that Severus was ashamed he hadn't thought about before it started playing: the conversation he had with Nadine about poisoning the potions.

The evil wizard ripped out of his mind so quickly, Severus was thrown backwards into Rookwood's chest. It wasn't hard enough to cause the Death Eater to release him - Severus wasn't that lucky - though it didn't stop the professor from trying to take advantage of the situation and pull harder to get free.

"I can cure it," he immediately said; not in an attempt to negotiate, not to try to save his own life, but to keep the already unstable wizard from turning around and killing every single person in that room, his followers included.

If the Dark Lord would have said anything, it would have made Severus's anxiety decrease, it would have actually calmed him because it would be a normal reaction to the evil wizard's anger. They all knew he enjoyed playing with his victims before he killed them, and Severus's betrayal for a second time - right under his absent nose - would not go without punishment and, ultimately, his death. His time was limited the second the dark wizard entered his mind and now he needed to do what he could to save those around him. To save Harry, because that's what all of this was about; it's why he took the red potion a year ago, almost to the day. Rather than talking though, Lord Voldemort circled Severus, waving his hand to dismiss Rookwood from his side. Both actions terrified the former spy.

It was now only the two of them and time seemed to stand still. The dark wizard's circling was starting to slow and Severus knew this was it, he could almost see the killing curse dancing on the serpentine tongue of the man around him; there was no chance he was going to make it out of this alive.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he hadn't come this far to cower away from the green light that he knew was now inevitable. His ears were pounding with the beat of his heart so loudly that no other sound around him existed: it was only his beating heart and racing breath, both of which would stop any second. When Voldemort stopped his circling and backed up to take his last shot at the man that had been given more chances than he deserved, Severus was grateful that he hadn't blocked his view of Harry, who was fighting viciously against the wizard holding him, harder than Severus had ever seen the young wizard fight. And in his last moment, his onyx eyes met Harry's emerald ones and he felt the forgiveness pass through them. The only thing he could think to do was nod his head at the child that wasn't his son, but he wished he could have been. Had things happened a little differently, had Severus chosen to be honest, he was confident they would have gotten there.

Forcing himself to take his eyes off Harry, who was still fighting to get away, Severus turned and looked around the room. Each Death Eater, the Dark Lord included, was laughing at him - made more eerie by Severus's inability to hear it - and the others who fought by his side all these years were staring between himself and Harry with sorrow filled eyes; all of them sure to be thinking how odd of a situation it was that Harry Potter was so distraught over Severus Snape's impending death. His eyes turned back towards his executioner and he waited. Severus watched as Voldemort's face contorted in anger and though Severus could see the thin pale lips move, he couldn't hear the words spoken from them, he didn't have to; he knew exactly what was coming. What he didn't expect was the flash of black that crossed in front of his face, so when the green light left Voldemort's wand, it hit directly into the body that had been standing in front of his own.

Time almost stood still in that split second it took for Harry's body to hit the ground with a hard thump that vibrated around the room. And in that split second, Severus's whole life shattered for the second time. He'd come to terms and accepted his own death, but not Harry's; not again.

The serpentine wizard that had been standing across from him, holding his ivory wand in glee, had fallen to the ground after Harry was hit. The Death Eaters around the room stood as shocked as their prisoners when he didn't immediately stand victoriously. Severus's eyes, however, never left the young wizard laying directly in front him. His eyes were drawn to something sitting next to Harry's lifeless hand. It was a wand, most likely Nott's, and it took a second for Severus's mind to catch up to the situation around him.

The horcrux is gone.

Without hesitating and in one smooth movement, Severus grabbed the wand, and pointed at the dark wizard's body on the other side of Harry's.

"Avada Kedavra!" Severus yelled with the last bit of his physical and emotional strength he had left. He didn't even watch the familiar bright green light leave the end of the borrowed wand, or if it had hit its intended target, all Severus could see was Harry laying on the floor in front of him completely unmoving before he fell to the ground and everything around him went black.

~~~~HP~~~~

He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself. A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too. Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that he was naked. Convinced as he was of his total solitude, this did not concern him, but it did intrigue him slightly. He wondered whether, as he could feel, he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes.

He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be. He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing his glasses anymore.

Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the small soft thumping of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful. For the first time, he wished he were clothed. Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. . . .

He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement? The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist. . . . Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for – He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath. He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"There's nothing you can do," came a soft voice from behind him. Harry closed his eyes because he knew exactly who was there; no matter when this moment came, she was always going to be the one waiting for him.

Gaining the courage from deep inside of him, he turned around and opened his eyes. Standing before him was his mum. Her signature thick dark red hair came down to her shoulders, but it was her almond shaped bright green eyes - Harry's eyes - that eased the uncertainty within him. She was there, standing in front of him and when he reached his hand out for her, she took a hold of it. Her skin was warm and soft, and the warmth radiated into his core, pushing out the cold that had been a constant presence since his chemotherapy started. His mother took him in her arms, and he sank into her hug and it felt better than he imagined it would.

"That was the piece of him wasn't it?" Harry asked when they finally parted, and then furrowed his brows because that wasn't exactly how he imagined his first words to his mother.

"Yes, sweetheart," she pulled him closer. "What you did tonight was very brave."

He shook his head. It wasn't that he disagreed, he just hadn't put much thought when he found his way out of Nott's grasp and ran towards Snape. But Voldemort could now be killed and hopefully it gave Snape time to get away. He wasn't wherever they were, so there was hope the man hadn't been killed, because Harry naturally assumed he was in the afterlife.

Focusing his mind back to the situation in front of him, since there was nothing he could do about the people back at the Manor, he followed his mother down the bright corridor. As he walked, the rest of the space was starting to appear around him, but the only thing he saw, further up ahead, sitting on a bench, was another person.

The other figure stood and Harry instantly knew it was his father. As everyone had told him throughout the years, Harry looked just like the man now standing before him. James was tall with Harry's same messy raven-black hair, but had hazel eyes. Looking at his parents, for the first real time in his life, Harry felt acceptance and a true understanding of where he came from and where he belonged. The three Potter's sat down on the bench, Harry nestled between his two parents. For the longest time they sat in a loving silence, almost making up for lost time.

It was James who finally broke the silence, "We're so proud of you, son. And not only for what you did tonight, but for everything you've had to endure."

"You didn't have to die," Harry found himself saying, "it's… unfair… and if it weren't for…"

He'd come to terms with Snape's role in the prophecy not long after Draco's rational explanation about it and then again as he was watching Snape accept his own fate tonight, but sitting there with his parents brought back all the injustices he'd been subject to in his short life. He could have had a life with his parents if it weren't for Snape. But would he have? If Voldemort hadn't vanished on that Halloween night, there was no way to know what the world would have looked like under his reign.

"Harry," Lily said, her bright emerald eyes looking into Harry's own, "Severus has always been a complicated man. Has he made some mistakes in his life? Yes, he has, but it's a sin he will forever carry. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think about, and regret, the decisions he's made. All of them, that is, except for you."

Harry felt his face blanch. It was odd talking to his parents about the pseudo-parent Harry had hoped the professor would have become.

"Severus has taken good care of you this year," he was surprised when it was James that said it, "he stepped up when you needed help the most and for that I will forever be grateful."

"But, you hate him." Harry argued.

"I can't hate someone who cared for and loved my son when I couldn't be there myself," James replied, which only kind of made sense to Harry, "no matter how much we despised each other back in our school days."

For Harry, it was like a boulder was lifted from his chest upon hearing that, though it didn't really matter now.

"Forgive him, Harry," Lily said in a soft, calm voice. "I already have."

"You saw everything that happened this year?"

"We've never left you," his mum nodded and lifted her hand, placing it on his chest, directly over his heart, "and we never will leave you."

Those words almost unraveled him, until he thought hard about the last part. Of course his parents wouldn't leave him now, so why did they have to say it?

"But I'm dead, right?" The young wizard asked the question that he hadn't realized had been plaguing his mind. "I'll get to stay with you now."

Lily smiled at him and his heart felt complete, "That's up to you, sweetheart."

"So… then I'm not dead?" Harry asked, almost insulted. He lifted his hand and placed it over where the curse hit him on his shoulder, "But I was hit with the killing curse. I saw the light, and I felt it..."

"You're not exactly dead yet," James clarified, "you're somewhere... in between… right now. But if you want, you can choose to come with us to the other side."

Harry was confused. How many people got to choose if they died or not? Cedric hadn't been given a choice in the matter when the killing curse hit him, and Sirius definitely wasn't given a choice when he fell through the veil. Charlie Weasley though… Harry thought back to the vision of Draco's initiation and he could see Charlie wanting death in his last moments. And then there was his own experiences this year when he wanted to quit chemotherapy, which would have ultimately killed him. It didn't feel the same though.

"So," Harry closed his eyes as he thought through what he'd been told. "I can go with you… or I can go back?"

"That's exactly it," Lily confirmed.

"I love you both," Harry said, and the word felt foreign on his tongue. In fact, he was sure he'd never said the word with the same meaning he had now because he'd never told another person he loved them. He loved Quidditch and he loved magic, but he'd never said it like this to a person.

It was a lot for his mind to even start comprehending in such a short amount of time. So he sat between his parents casually talking about all the things that had happened in his life from the cupboard to his cancer. He knew the time would come when he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, but until then, he wanted to simply sit there as long as he could with them. Between them, he was released from all the pressures around him and he felt completely carefree. The time would come, much sooner than he was ready for, where he needed to make one final choice: to go with his parents to the afterlife or go back to living; where he would still have chemotherapy, still had no magic, and would still have to defeat Voldemort.