Harry groaned, dropping his forehead to rest on his forearm in the grass as the homemade paste was dabbed into the gouge on his hip. He wanted to pull away, but a heavy, yet gentle hand held onto his thigh, keeping him still. He had never wished for Snape’s horrible, disgusting potions so badly. It had been three days of homemade pastes and boiled leaves in water with the semi-medicinal plants Snape had scavenged from the forest. Although, despite the pain, he had to admit they seemed to be working, albeit infinitely slower than normal potions and balms.

The fingers applying the paste disappeared, but the hand holding his leg remained, a comforting weight that continued holding him still. He rolled his head on his arm and looked at Snape. The man was looking down at the transfigured bowls—the only wandless magic besides lighting small fires Snape was willing to perform—that held the various pastes and liquids he had created, and Harry wondered if the man was aware that he had begun to move his thumb on Harry’s thigh in gentle strokes. He said nothing about it, enjoying the comfort. He watched the professor pick up his no longer remotely white or even pink shirt, dampened in the river, and knew it was time to wipe the paste from his wound.

Harry let his eyes close again and sighed in preparation, automatically tensing before the fabric even touched him. He groaned again as the shirt was swept over his hip, removing the paste, and then water was poured over it, cleaning it out. He squeezed his eyes tighter, not even caring about the couple of tears that leaked out.

The treatment ended and he tried to breathe deeply, focusing on the thumb that was still moving over his leg. He turned his head slightly again and opened his eyes, just able to see the professor. The man’s other hand reached out and pushed his hair aside, out of his eyes.

“Alright?” Snape asked quietly.

“M’okay,” Harry mumbled.

They sat for a moment longer as Harry recovered, the pain in his hip receding to more manageable levels. Snape never removed the hand on his leg and brushed his hair back a couple more times. Harry reveled in the care he’d been deprived for fourteen years.

“I’m good now,” Harry said eventually and started pushing himself up with his left hand.

Snape helped him up and helped him settle against the tree again. Harry let out a breath at the exertion, sighing in frustration at still feeling so weak. Snape had been just as injured as him, but seemed to be farther along in his healing than Harry, though, he supposed, Snape had likely been through such a thing before having been a Death Eater and spy for nearly twenty years.

“Eat something,” Snape said, and Harry took the bowl of berries and raw, non-poisonous mushrooms. It wasn’t much and was all they’d been surviving on for the last three days. Snape wasn’t willing to use wandless magic to get them any animals in case his power was detected by potential enemies.

Harry popped a couple of elderberries in his mouth and chewed slowly, gazing out at the landscape before them. Three days since they’d appeared in the meadow. Twelve days since they’d gone missing from Hogsmeade. He could tell Snape was getting more and more anxious over being stuck in the meadow without knowing where they really were. They hadn’t seen anyone or even anything to indicate civilization may be remotely nearby. Harry knew they couldn’t stay where they were forever, they needed help and information, but Harry also didn’t want to leave.

Despite the pain, slow healing, and lack of supplies, he was glad to be away from, well, everything, and was relishing the closeness that was continuing to grow between him and Snape. Except when Snape left him to explore the forest, they hadn’t been away from each other in twelve days. They sat together constantly, talking about almost anything, having little else to do. They slept tucked against each other for warmth and comfort. Snape’s tactile gestures increased by the day, providing Harry comfort through pain, nightmares, and lingering loneliness.

The thought made Harry suddenly realize something and he turned to Snape with a frown. “My scar doesn’t hurt.”

Snape looked at him with his own frown. “Excuse me?”

“My scar doesn’t hurt,” Harry repeated. “There’s nothing. No stinging or burning or tingling.”

Snape put his own bowl of berries down and reached up, pushing Harry’s hair away from his forehead. A long finger traced where he knew the lightning bolt to be.

“It looks no different,” Snape said, dropping his hand. “You are sure it feels different?”

Harry nodded. “It doesn’t feel like anything, like it’s not even there.”

“Is this sudden or since we’ve been here?” Snape asked.

“I don’t know. I just realized it now, but I’ve been focused on other pain the last few days and I’m so used to it hurting that I didn’t notice anything different,” Harry said. “It could be since we got here.”

Snape’s eyebrows furrowed and he picked up his forgotten berries again.

“Should I be worried?” Harry asked, chewing on a mushroom.

“I am unsure,” Snape said and then he sighed. “I am unsure of many things since we’ve arrived.”

Harry was surprised at the admission. Snape was always sure about everything. He looked around, though, and was able to understand the uncertainty. He nibbled on another mushroom while staring absently at the river, watching as the surface sparkled under the sunlight. He let his mind wander, wondering what was happening back at Hogwarts and with the Order in the wake of their disappearance. He wondered who cared they were gone, if anyone. He was sure Dean, Seamus, Neville, Luna, and the twins would be worried about him, but who would be worried about Snape? It stung to think no one would be particularly concerned for Snape, just for his role as spy.

He was about to eat another few elderberries and let his mind continue to drift when a new distant sound interrupted his thoughts. His hand hovered in the air as he strained to hear, frowning at what sounded like creaking wood and crunching gravel.

He looked at Snape who had also tensed beside him, listening. “Professor?” he said quietly.

Snape made a motion to stay quiet and Harry nodded, focusing back on the sounds that seemed to be growing louder, closer. Soon, voices seemed to join the other sounds and Harry looked at Snape again, alarmed. What could they do? There was nowhere to hide and they didn’t have their wands. They had no way to fight and were still mostly incapable with their injuries.

They turned their heads to the left and watched with wide eyes as a horse-drawn wagon occupied by three people emerged from the forest. It followed the wheel tracks and was heading in their direction. As the wagon drew closer, Harry found Snape stretching an arm across him, hand curling around his outer thigh, in a gesture of protection. They could do nothing but watch as the horse, wagon, and its occupants came to a stop in front of them.

“’Lo there,” one of them said, a young, muscular man with long brown hair pulled back at his neck and full facial hair buzzed close to the skin. His voice was deep, but could clearly boom if he wanted, his brown eyes alight with kindness.

“Oh my, our Lady was correct. You are in quite the state,” the only woman of the three said from where she sat in the wagon. Her features were slender and soft, long brown hair falling past her shoulders and framing her oval face with soft waves. Her blue eyes flashed with something as she looked at them.

“Apologies for our delay,” the second man, sitting next to the first and holding the horse’s reins, said in a light, kind voice. “We had to come from the northern court and it is quite the journey.” He seemed slightly slenderer than the first man with short, light brown hair curling around his ears and no facial hair. His face was more angular than the man beside him.

Harry couldn’t help but notice the strange clothing the three wore. Both men wore what seemed to be tunics with embroidered designs and a belt around their waist, cinching the tunic at their narrowest point. Dark brown trousers that looked more like riding trousers were held up with a belt around their hips, items seeming to dangle from the belt. Their feet were covered with boots that seemed to be made of leather and went a little way above the ankle, secured with straps wrapping around their legs. Around their necks, fastened at the shoulder with unique brooches and falling down their backs were long, light cloaks, hoods attached in case of rain.

The woman wore a long, tailored gown with a lower, curved neckline of some light, but layered material. It had long sleeves with the ends slightly flared, embroidered in a similar way to the men’s tunics. She also had a belt cinching her narrow waist and a pouch dangling into her lap. She wore what looked like simple flat, slip-on shoes made of a similar leather to the men’s boots. She also wore a cloak like the men, her own brooch fastening it at her right shoulder.

It was strange clothing, nothing like what he’d ever seen in either the Muggle or wizarding world. As he stared, the woman and the man with the long hair climbed down from the wagon and moved to approach them. Harry tensed and automatically gripped Snape’s arm still across his body, feeling how tightly the man was holding himself.

“Come no closer,” Snape ordered and the two stopped. “Who are you?”

“Oh, of course,” the woman said. “My name is Helena. Pleasure.”

“I’m Erec,” the man said and then gestured at the man still in the wagon, holding the reins. “That, there, is Felix.”

The man lifted one hand and inclined his head in greeting.

“Why are you here?” Snape asked.

“To help you,” Helena said. “We were told of your arrival and told to bring you home with us.”

Harry looked at Snape, seeing his own confusion mirrored in the man’s guarded face.

“Do not fret, friends. We are not going to harm you,” Erec said. “If you would permit it, Helena is a wonderful Healer and can ensure you are fit to travel.”

Harry looked back at them. “You’re wizards?”

Snape squeezed his leg in warning.

“Indeed, we are,” Erec said.

“I have potions,” Helena said, digging in the pouch hanging from her waist. She held up a few vials, filled with different coloured liquids.

Snape was clearly suspicious, eyes narrowed at the vials and the people. Harry tapped the man’s arm with a finger to get his attention. The man’s head tilted ever so slightly towards him, showing Snape was listening.

“You can check the potions, make sure they’re safe,” Harry whispered, unable to deny possible relief.

Snape said nothing, eyes hard and trained on the three young adults in front of them. After many long minutes, Snape raised his other hand in a clear demand to be given the potions. Helena stepped close enough to give him the three vials before returning to stand next to Erec. Harry watched as Snape popped corks, sniffing the potions after visual examinations.

“Murtlap and dittany?” Snape said, holding up a vial with a green liquid.

Helena nodded.

Snape held up another of whiteish liquid with blue flecks. “General Healing Potion?”

Helena nodded again.

Snape held up the final potion, a yellow one. “Wound Cleaning Potion?”

Helena smiled. “Impressive. You must be a Potions Master.”

Snape didn’t respond, just turned to Harry with a questioning look.

“Are they safe?” Harry asked.

“There seems to be something different in the Healing Potion, but I do not detect anything dangerous,” Snape said, dipping his finger into the white potion and licking the liquid off to test it.

“You said we needed help,” Harry said, eyes flicking to the three waiting patiently. “They seem okay.”

“You are too trusting,” Snape said, considering the potions.

“You know how to read people,” Harry said, looking at him pointedly. He watched as Snape looked at the three again and he wondered if the man was trying Legilimency. After another couple of long minutes, Snape turned back to him, squeezed his leg, and held out the Healing Potion.

“Just half,” Snape said and Harry nodded, taking the potion.

Swallowing, he handed the vial back. He’d had Healing Potions before and agreed with Snape that something seemed different. He felt some effects, some of his smaller injuries healing and his exhaustion eased. He felt things happen in his wrist, too, easing an ache he’d hardly been aware of.

“Very well,” Snape said, looking at the three. “Who are you taking us to?”

“Our parents and a few others,” Erec said. “All very safe and able to help.”

Snape nodded and got to his feet, helping Harry up. The professor wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders and guided him to the back of the wagon. Harry frowned at the height.

“I’ll lift you,” Snape said quietly and Harry nodded, not bothering to be embarrassed about being picked up. He accepted the arm that wrapped around his back under his arms and the arm that curled under his left thigh. He was lifted just enough that he could sit on the wagon’s edge. The bottom of the wagon had thin blankets covering it, protecting from splinters and providing minor cushioning.

“Slide back,” Snape instructed, climbing up himself.

Harry watched the man move to the back of the wagon, settling in the back-left corner with his back against the barrier between the wagon and the ‘driver’ seat. Harry shuffled around, sliding slowly backwards until he was beside the professor. Their rescues clearly settled, Erec climbed up beside Felix again and Helena joined them in the wagon, sitting closer to the end to clearly give them space.

“Everyone ready?” Felix asked.

“Onward,” Erec said and, with a whistle and snap of the reins from Felix, they began moving.

“Lay down,” Snape said and Harry did so, stretching on his left side, back to the professor. He felt Snape move what was left of his right pant leg—which wasn’t much—for access to his hip and calf. He started when he felt a cold liquid drip into his open hip and groaned when it burned slightly. The same thing was done to his calf and his fingers clenched in the thin wool blanket beneath him. A hand squeezed his shoulder in comfort and he smiled at the gesture.

“This will feel better,” Snape said and Harry nodded against the rocking wagon.

More cool liquid poured into the wound and, while there was a strange prickling, the pain was soothed, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief for the first time in nearly two weeks. His calf received the same treatment before he was gently pulled so his back was pressed along Snape’s leg, the man’s hand resting on his side just above his healing hip.

“How long is the journey?” Snape asked and Harry moved his head so he could see Helena.

“About a day,” Helena said. “We will be there around midday tomorrow.”

“Try to rest, Potter,” Snape told him, his thumb moving across Harry’s side just like earlier on his thigh.

Harry didn’t want to sleep, desperate for information, but he found himself drifting. Between the decrease in pain, the comfort of Snape at his back, and the rocking of the wagon, he was powerless to keep his eyes from closing.

Severus was relieved when Potter relaxed into sleep against him. He knew the boy wanted to stay awake, but he knew the boy desperately needed sleep. He needed sleep, too, but he refused to let his guard down with these people. He didn’t sense anything sinister, but he was still filled with anxious confusion. There were many odd things about the three young people, from their dress to the horse-drawn wagon to the potions being slightly different to what he knew. He was hesitant about his decision to go with them, but they truly needed help, especially Potter.

“I will be able to treat you both fully upon our return,” Helena said. “My mother will be able to help as well. We were told you were seriously injured, but we were told nothing specific.”

“How did you know about us?” Severus asked.

“It is complicated,” Helena said and Severus frowned. “We know a powerful enchantress who foresaw your arrival.”

Severus’ frown deepened. That had provided no clarity.

“May I ask what happened to the two of you?” Erec asked from behind Severus.

Severus looked down at Potter, wondering what he should tell them, if anything. He didn’t want to risk putting them in danger by revealing the wrong information to the wrong people. He couldn’t harm Potter in that way. He looked up at Helena who was looking at him with a soft smile.

“We were captured by a dark wizard we are both in opposition to,” Severus said, keeping the details vague.

“So young and targeted by such darkness?” Helena said, gesturing to Potter with a look of concern erasing her smile.

“He has been a target since he was a baby,” Severus said, gazing down at the sleeping boy again.

“Have you been at war for so long?” Felix asked.

“There was a stall for thirteen years, but the threat returned last year,” Severus said, realizing they must not be in the U.K. anymore if these people were unaware of Voldemort. Though, it did make their dress and accents all the more curious as they screamed U.K., if very dated.

“We, too, have been at war for many years,” Erec said. “A dark sorceress threatens these lands.”

“But, do not worry,” Helena said quickly. “You will be safe in our home. We have many powerful witches and wizards capable of protecting you until you are well.”

Severus nodded, hoping what she said was true. They already had one madman after them, they didn’t need another. He took the lull in the conversation to gaze around, taking in the expansive green fields and hills, the far-off forests, and the river that continued to flow alongside them. Breaking up the green every now and then were small, hut-like buildings with thatched roofs, though he never saw any inhabitants, human or otherwise. He wanted to ask where they were and where they were going, but he didn’t trust the three to tell the truth. He would be better off making his own deductions.

“We need to contact our people,” Severus said, returning his attention to Helena who had also been watching the scenery.

“Certainly,” Helena said. “We have post owls you are welcome to use.”

Severus inclined his head in thanks.

“Might we know your names, friend?” Erec asked, glancing over his shoulder at them.

Severus hesitated. Their names were well-known and he didn’t want to send up any alerts about their whereabouts. Not to mention, just because these three claimed they were fighting a dark witch themselves, it didn’t mean they would be on the Light side against Voldemort. Yet, there was a small part of him willing to put trust into these people. He blamed Potter for the chipping away of his normally rock-solid distrust and paranoia. Cursing the sleeping boy half-heartedly, he answered.

“Severus,” he said and then nodded down at Potter, “and this is Harry.”

“Lovely to meet the two of you,” Helena said with a smile. “How do you know each other? Are you his father? You clearly care for him very much.”

“A recent development,” Severus said. “He is my student.”

“And you are fighting a war together?” Helena said, sounding slightly surprised.

“As I said, we are both key targets,” Severus said.

“Quite the relationship for a teacher and student,” Felix said.

“We’ve not had the…easiest relationship, but we’ve come to know each other the last few months,” Severus said.

“His parents?” Erec asked.

“Dead,” Severus said bluntly. “Murdered when he was one by the same wizard we are fighting.”

“Oh, the poor dear,” Helena said. “He seems to have been through a lot for one so young.”

“Indeed,” Severus said quietly, dropping his eyes to the child again. “And you? How do you know each other?”

“Friends since childhood,” Helena said, smiling over at the backs of Erec and Felix.

“Practically raised together since birth,” Erec said and bumped his shoulder into Felix.

“Sometimes regretfully,” Felix grumbled good-naturedly.

Severus hummed, feeling overwhelming exhaustion begin to creep over him as the sun began to sink. He hadn’t realized they’d been travelling for several hours already. He let his head fall back against the barrier between them and Erec and Felix. He was struggling to remember the last time he’d truly slept. Certainly not in the last twelve days.

“I understand your worry, but I do not want you to fret,” Helena said. “You will come to no harm. You can sleep.”

Somehow the woman’s gentle permission was all he needed and he spent the next many hours drifting in and out of sleep. Each time he woke, he heard the quiet voices of Helena, Erec, and Felix. The wagon was constantly rocking and Potter remained a solid, warm presence beside him. Despite the frequent moments of wakefulness, the rocking of the wagon, and the lingering pain he’d forced himself to ignore for the last several days to focus on Potter, the sleep was quite restful, a feeling he couldn’t even remember having last.

When he finally woke fully, it was to Potter’s voice with Helena’s, Erec’s, and Felix’s, and the boy pressed against his side rather than his leg. He blinked at the sunlight that had replaced the growing darkness he’d fallen asleep to.

“Professor, you’re awake,” Potter said and he turned his head to look at the child. The green eyes were no longer clouded with pain and the relief he felt at that fact was no longer as startling as it had once been. “Professor, look.”

Potter shifted around until he was leaning just enough to show his injured hip, calf, and side. The injuries were still there and needed more treatment, but they appeared less inflamed and the skin had begun to stitch back together. His side, which had been a horrible black and purple from the constantly shifting broken rib, had settled more into a light greyish-blue.

“Not nearly as good as yours, but the potions worked,” Potter said. “I don’t feel the rib moving and my wrist feels a bit better. The burn on my arm is better too.”

“You feel alright?” Severus asked quietly, threading his fingers through the messy hair to both comfort and feel for the gash that had been on the back of the boy’s head.

Potter needed. “Better than the last while at least.”

“I apologize we cannot fully heal your broken bones,” Helena said and they looked at her. “Felix’s sister, Penelope, is an inventor of spells and potions. My mother and I have been working with her to try and develop a potion that can heal the bones, but we have had little success.”

“You don’t use Skele-Gro?” Potter said and Severus frowned at the look of confusion that crossed the young woman’s face.

“Is that a potion?” Helena asked.

Potter also began to frown. “Um, yeah, it heals broken bones and can even regrow vanished bones.”

“Fascinating,” Helena said. “Is it a creation of yours?”

“No, it has been around for centuries,” Severus said, alarms going off in his instincts that something was very strange and very wrong. “It was invented by Linfred of Stitchcombe in fifteen twenty-six.”

Helena’s face lost its confusion and gained a realization Severus wished she would share.

“From quite far, aren’t they?” Felix said.

“It would seem so,” Helena said. “My dears, we are in the year twelve thirty-five.”

Severus froze as his brain tried to process what Helena had just said. It made no sense. It couldn’t be possible.

“Ah, here we are,” Felix said with a happy sigh. “Home at last.”

Severus moved to look behind them, Potter doing the same. There in the not-so-far distance was a relatively large, spread-out village—for it certainly couldn’t be considered a town—made up of small wooden homes with distinct designs and shingled or thatched roofs. Other buildings were scattered around and a windmill sat near a lake the river they’d followed flowed into. He could see people milling about, could hear various animals, and he swore there were flashes of light that could only be spells.

“Professor, look,” Potter said, pointing to a wooden sign on the side of their path. It had been painted, a circle of twelve swords with their points touching in the center. Over the center was a capital ‘C’ in fancy script. He knew that image, but it couldn’t be. It was impossible!

“Welcome, friends,” Erec said joyfully, spreading his arms, “to Camelot.”