Quickly Snape dodged out of the way of a particularly nasty - and quite illegal - hex, cursing Potter in his mind. ‘We must get Mr. Potter back at all costs.’ Dumbledore had said. What was so damned important about the brat anyway? Sure there was that prophecy, but of course Dumbledore had not divulged its complete contents to the order, just that Potter could defeat the Dark Lord.

Snape mentally berated himself for not focusing solely on the battle as he was caught with crucio straight in the chest, injuring his lungs even further. He fell to the ground writhing but not uttering a sound. Years of service to the Dark Lord had taught him not to make a sound no matter how much pain he was in. Instead he concentrated on the wand he had luckily not dropped, willing his magic through it in the form of the killing curse. Now was not the time to have mercy, he was fighting for his very existence.

When the pain disappeared he knew he must have hit one of those attacking. He lay still for a moment, trying in vain to catch his breath, then got to his feet as quickly as his protesting muscles allowed, facing the pack of Death Eaters once more. There were more than he originally thought, but less than he would have expected, only about six. The Dark Lord was also missing and he realized that the order must be keeping him and the rest of the Death Eaters busy. Dumbledore had said if he and Potter weren’t out within an hour he would be coming after them.

Keeping his mind off the pain shooting through his left leg and concentrating on breathing, he quickly and methodically began cursing the rest. One fell to another killing curse, three more to a well placed and extremely powerful blasting curse. A cutting hex sliced through his left arm just as the last of them fell, leaving a deep, but not quite life-threatening gash. He ripped a piece of cloth off his cloak, wrapping it tightly around the wound. Then he turned to the woods and ran after Potter, praying no one had followed him.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry ran through the forest on autopilot, branches whipping at his face, bushes grabbing at his clothing, roots tripping him up. He couldn’t see, a fact of which he was all too painfully aware of, but right now he needed to concentrate on getting out alive. He’d rather be blind than dead right now.

A large root tripped him and he crashed to the ground, scraping his palms and twisting his wrist as he tried to stop his fall with his hands. A sob escaped his lips and he felt tears running down his face, but he ignored it. He could feel a sticky substance on his palms, blood from the scrapes. He groped for something to help pull himself on, his hands finally coming intact with a tree trunk. Placing both hands on the tree, he carefully pulled himself to a standing position.

Harry stood absolutely still, listening for anyone following him. The woods were eerily silent, not a sound echoing through the area. It was if the woods were dead. Suddenly he was glad he couldn’t see his surroundings, glad he couldn’t imagine a large shadow was actually a hideous beast waiting for him to make one false move.

He tried to hold his sobs in and stop his ragged breathing long enough to be able to truly listen. When he did, he realized he could hear the babbling sound of running water off in the distance. Trying to pinpoint the location he decided it was somewhere to his right. It might be easier to follow a river bank than run through the underbrush of a forest.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, getting ready to walk toward the water. He suddenly found he didn’t want to let go of the trunk. The trunk was something known to him, something safe. The darkness out there was dangerous, was unknown. He clamped his eyes tightly shut and willed himself to take a step away from the tree, and then another, keeping his hand on the tree as long as possible. He inched slowly forward, probably even slower than back in the . . . was it a dungeon he was in?

Finally he was far enough so that the next step would mean he would no longer be able to reach out to the trunk. Sucking in a deep breath he reached out in front of himself, luckily coming in contact with another tree trunk. He quickly stepped over to it, hugging it like it had just saved his life. He continued in this fashion for a while, always listening for footsteps or voices, pausing every now and again to listen to the river.

When the sound of branches snapping finally did reach Harry’s sensitive ears, his breath caught in his throat and he was sure his heart skipped a beat. He went around the luckily large trunk he was currently touching and crouched down in the bushes at the base of it. The footsteps quickly approached - two sets of them. Neither had the same sound that Snape had due to his injured leg. It must be Death Eaters.

Trying to breathe as little as possible, Harry stayed crouched in the bushes, praying to whatever deity was out there that they would just continue walking past him. As they came closer and closer to his hiding spot tears once more fell down his face and he cursed his weakness. He wouldn’t let them see his tears.

Suddenly there was another set of footsteps coming from somewhere in front of him. Cursing his luck, he listened carefully. His heart jumped with joy as he realized it sounded like Snape, as one of the legs seemed to be dragging. Too bad that the other two heard the footsteps as well.

“Who’s there?” One of them shouted.

“Show yourself!” The other demanded. Snape’s footsteps had stopped. The two Death Eaters began walking toward Harry’s tree.

“Avada Kedavra.” Was said in Snape’s voice, and a body fell to the ground. A volley of curses from both the other men followed and Harry tried his best not to be hit or discovered. Unfortunately for him the Death Eater was right next to him and saw him, quickly casting crucio on him. While Harry was screaming in agony Snape took the opportunity to finally kill the attacker. The body landed on Harry and he cried out, recoiling from the dead body.

“Potter?” Snape asked.

“Professor? Where are you? Please, help me.” Harry begged, pride thrown out the window. He didn’t care that this was his most hated professor anymore, he just wanted to get out of this forest, or better yet, wake up and realize this was all one big, horrible nightmare. A hand touched his shoulder and he followed the arm up to his professor’s body, quickly latching onto him. Snape was beyond surprised as Harry clung to him like a lifeline, his face twisted into an uncharacteristic look of surprise.

“Let go Potter.” Snape wheezed, coughing. Harry quickly jumped away and Snape began coughing harshly. When Snape pulled his hand away from his mouth it was covered in blood.

“You’re hurt.” Harry said. He could smell the blood coming from the wound on Snape’s arm.

“Brilliant observational skills, Potter. I have a portkey, we need to use it now before anyone else comes this way.” Snape said, holding out something Harry couldn’t see.

“A p-portkey?” Harry asked. He still hated the things, ever since his fourth year.

“Yes Potter, now grab onto it before I leave you here!” Snape snapped in his classroom voice, the effect slightly ruined by the hoarse quality his voice had taken on. Shakily Harry reached out for the object, missing it by several inches. He groped the air for a moment before Snape became impatient and grabbed his hand, placed it on the object and hissed the activation word. As they slammed to the ground Harry once more clung to Snape’s robes, shaking in fear. Portkey travel was made ten times worse when you couldn’t see where you landed.

“Where are we?” Harry asked fearfully. Snape quickly realized the boy was terrified beyond words.

“Calm down Potter.” He wheezed. “We’re outside the gates of Hogwarts. I just need to send the signal that I have you and then I’ll bring you up to the hospital wing. Now if you would kindly detach yourself from my robes, I would be much obliged.” Snape said. Harry nodded and let go of Snape, but stayed within close proximity of him. After a moment Snape grabbed Harry’s upper arm, Harry jumped, and Snape began to lead him up to the castle.

“What happened?” Harry asked quietly.

“Dumbledore told me to fetch you.” Snape said. His injuries were really starting to weigh on him and he was not in the mood to talk.

“So you blew your cover?” Harry asked.

“Yes, because it’s just so much fun to undergo torture to save your sorry hide, Potter.” Snape said, still able to coat his words in an impossible amount of sarcasm despite his pain.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said softly. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt because of me. I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.” Harry whispered, lost in his thoughts of Sirius. Snape just stared incredulously at the boy, but decided to get himself to the hospital wing rather than try to pry something out of the boy right now. Just as he reached the castle doors Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall came rushing up to them. Immediately the nurse began dragging them up to the infirmary.

“He’s blind.” Snape said before gladly sinking into unconsciousness, the last sound he heard being the two women gasping at the news and Harry’s sobs as the weight of his condition finally sank in.