“Get Professor Snape, hurry Harry. It has to be Severus.” Albus Dumbledore croaked, his voice weak and tired. He staggered to a nearby wall, sinking to the ground in an uncharacteristic motion of weakness.  

Harry felt torn. He didn’t trust Snape, not in the slightest. But was what Dumbledore said true? Was Snape the only person who could help? Was Dumbledore’s faith in the man enough to risk enduring the professor’s wrath? 

Dumbledore’s eyes slid closed and Harry felt panic rising in his chest. He had promised the headmaster he would obey and command, and he wasn’t going to give him another reason to exclude him from their horcrux hunting mission. With a speed he didn’t know he was capable of, Harry set off in search of his most loathed professor, but not before slinging his invisibility cloak over the headmaster, just in case. It wouldn’t do any good for anyone to see Professor Dumbledore incapacitated and alone, not during these tumultuous times. 

The blood pounded heavily in his ears as he raced down to Snape’s office, not taking the time to be cautious even though it was well after curfew. He burst through the door without knocking, doubling over and panting heavily as he gasped, “Dumbledore….astronomy tower…help.” 

The professor sprinted out of his office without a word to Harry, and after taking a few deep breaths Harry hurried after him. Dumbledore had to be okay, he was the most powerful wizard in the world, he had to be able to recover from whatever it was Voldemort had used to protect the locket. The war would be lost without Dumbledore to lead the resistance.  

He finally caught up to Snape as they reached the top of the astronomy tower and he led him to where he had concealed Dumbledore’s feeble body, pulling off the invisibility cloak and anxiously looked at the professor, “Can you help?” 

“Step back, Potter.” 

Harry flinched at the cold tone of Snape’s voice, although he was more than accustomed to hearing that particular infliction when being spoken to. His breath came in shallow gulps as his fear mixed with the aftermath of running around the castle and he leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and letting his head hang while his professor began to pour potions down the headmaster’s throat.

Snape worked silently and quickly, and Harry wondered if the man even knew he was still watching. His silent question, tough, was answered as his professor snapped his fingers, “Give me your cloak, I’m moving him to the hospital wing.” 

Harry silently handed over his father’s invisibility cloak and followed Snape as they descended the tower. Once they reached the bottom, Snape turned to the young Gryffindor, “Go back to your dormitory. Speak of this to no one, not even your foolish little friends. Do not bother visiting the headmaster, we cannot risk someone finding out he is in this weakened state. He will contact you when he is able.” 

Harry nodded numbly and turned away from his role model and his most hated professor, slowly beginning his journey to Gryffindor tower. He could hear the professor’s footsteps echoing in the hall ahead of him and he let the rhythmic steps soothe the adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. That, perhaps, was the only reason he noticed when the professor came to a halt long before he was due to reach the hospital wing.  

Hanging back slightly, Harry crept down the hall, trying to stay in the shadows as much as possible. Despite Dumbledore’s blind faith in the man, Harry had no reason to trust his professor and he was not about to leave the headmaster incapacitated in the company of a possibly loyal death eater without supervision.  

“Professor, I can’t do it.” 

Harry held his breath as Draco’s voice penetrated his ears. This was it, he was going to find out what Malfoy had been plotting all year. Finally, he’d have an answer and then someone would have to believe him, then he wouldn’t be treated like a paranoid little boy.

Creeping closer, his heart quickened and his palms grew slightly sweaty. He felt slightly frightened as his rival and professor spoke in hushed tones, clearly thinking they were alone.  

“How much have you accomplished?” 

“I succeeded in repairing the cabinets, but I have not told anyone yet that I have completed the first part of my task. I fear I cannot complete the remainder. I don’t know what I am going to do. You have to help me, please! I know I told you I could do it on my own, I thought I could, but I can’t. Please, he’s going to kill me.” 

Harry could hear the pleading fear in Malfoy’s voice and in an uncharacteristic moment of compassion towards the blonde he wished he could do something to take his pain away. It was something he often felt compelled to do, helping people. It was a blessing, but also a curse. Because of his drive to save others, he cost several people their lives. He found it comical that even his enemy could worm his way into Harry’s heart with just a few words of terrified truth. He remained quiet, though, and listened carefully for Snape’s response.  

“Are you serious about wanting to walk away from the Dark Lord? Are you willing to take the necessary precautions to save your life? It is not too late to change your mind.” 

“I can’t do it. I can’t kill him. I can’t let them come here and possibly kill me or my friends. I don’t want it Uncle Severus, I don’t think I can do this. Please, help me, I don’t know who else to turn to. I don’t want to kill, but I don’t want to die. I’m not ready for this.” 

Harry could tell by Malfoy’s sharp breaths that he was crying, and Harry’s insides twisted slightly. He felt the same way, knowing the prophesy and knowing he would have to kill or be killed the next time he came face to face with Voldemort. He wished nothing more than to have someone to turn to, someone to lean on and tell him everything would be alright. He wanted Sirius, he wanted his parents, he wanted someone, anyone, to give a damn about him and what he was going through. He held his breath, slowly exhaling as he tried to remain calm. It wouldn’t do him any good to be caught eavesdropping when he was supposed to be going to his dormitory.  

“Draco, I can help you, but only if you are willing to go to great lengths to ensure your safety. You have to be certain this is what you want, can you make that decision?” 

“Yes, please help me. I can’t live like this.” 

Draco sounded weak and tired now, and Harry could imagine the pain and fatigue in the blonde’s face. He had seen it on his own many, many times.  

“Destroy the cabinet. Blast it into a thousand pieces, write to Bella and tell her there is nothing you can to do repair it. Likely, she will tell you to complete the rest of your task. I took an Unbreakable Vow to carry out the deed should you be rendered unable. I have already made arrangements with the headmaster on what the next course of action will be, should I be called upon to perform the task. I will send you to a family home of mine, and in the fall I will re-enroll you here or place you in another school under another identity. If we cannot find a suitable disguise, I will hire a tutor for you. I will protect you from the Dark Lord and his followers, but you’ll have to abide by my rules. Understood?” 

“Make it happen.” 

Harry ducked behind a statue as Draco sprinted down the hall and he sank to the floor as he absorbed what he had overheard. He was lost in his thoughts and didn’t even realize he had company until a rough hand grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up.  

“If you aren’t going to do as you are told, the least you can do is assist me.” 

Harry looked up at his professor in shock, and quickly fell in step as they quickly made their way to the infirmary. He had expected to be yelled at, to be threatened, to be manhandled even, but he had never expected Snape to reward his eavesdropping in this way.  

Once in the hospital wing, Severus uncovered Dumbledore and began to administer more potions, stopping every few minutes to run a diagnostic scan, in which Harry took notes. Finally, after an hour of working, Severus stepped back and exhaled slowly, “I’ve done all I can do, the rest is up to him.” 

“Will he make it?” 

Severus looked at the younger boy, a tired frown on his face, “I’m not sure.” 

“This is all my fault.” Harry groaned, running his fingers through his hair, “I should have insisted he let me drink it…I’m younger, more resilient. Maybe it wouldn’t have done this to me had I taken it in his place.” 

Snape locked eyes with Harry, the dark orbs flashing with anger, “Albus Dumbledore is a very old man, who has lived a very full life. It is not your place, as a 16 year old boy, to make life or death decisions, nor is it your place to sacrifice yourself in order to save someone who does not need protection. Certainly you know who you are and what you are destined to do. Are you willing to throw the entire world away to save one soul who chose not to be saved?” 

“But Professor Dumbledore—“ 

“Knew what he was getting himself into. He knew the dangers involved and he acted and reacted accordingly. He would have gladly given his life to help you achieve victory against the Dark Lord, don’t you dare make light of it or throw his precious gift away. He, like your parents, knows you are destined to carry out a very specific deed.” 

“My parents? What do you know about my parents?” 

“I know that they were betrayed by a friend, two friends. I know that they would have given their lives 20 times over if it meant you would be safe.” 

The pain in Snape’s voice caused Harry’s heart to skip a few beats. He paused, his mouth hanging open as he tried to formulate a coherent sentence. He was used to nothing but malice spewing from his professor’s mouth every time his parents were mentioned, the quiet contemplation in the older man’s voice left him craving more information, however unlikely it would be that Snape would answer any questions Harry may have.  

“Betrayed by two friends, sir? I thought Peter-“ 

“Yes, Peter Pettigrew played a huge role in the demise of your parents, but even before he betrayed them, a friend of your mother’s gave the Dark Lord the information that was contained in the prophesy.” 

Harry was silent, absorbing the information. He had known someone had overheard the prophesy and fed the information to Voldemort, but he hadn’t been aware that it was a friend of his mother. He bristled slightly at the thought of another person his parents trusted betraying them. His thought travelled to his own friends. The marauders had been just as close as he was with Hermione and Ron, and he couldn’t begin to fathom how he would felt if one of them did him in like that. 

As Harry’s thoughts drifted, Snape moved back to Dumbledore with a frown and began muttering in Latin.  

Harry’s attention snapped back to his professor and the headmaster, fear and panic causing his stomach to churn unpleasantly as he noted Dumbledore’s unnaturally grey skin.

Fighting the urge to grow hysterical as Snape began to visibly worry, Harry took a step towards the bed, “What can I do?” 

“Recount exactly what you remember about the item that left the headmaster in this state.” Snape said quietly, a blue light shining from his wand and covering their patient.  

“It was a potion…he had to drink it to get the locket out…is he dying?” 

Harry wasn’t able to hide the edge of panic from his voice, and he was fairly certain it was visible on his face as well as his potions professor continued to work on the headmaster.  

“Anything else?” 

“I don’t remember…it made him thirsty, it made him weak. It was green….glowing…” Harry’s slowly growing hysteria caused tears to sting his eyes, “He made me…he made me…” 

“Made you what?” 

“I had to promise I’d make him drink all of it. He was hallucinating, in pain…he wanted to stop after a few cupfuls, but I couldn’t let him….I should have let him…”  

As the night’s events replayed in Harry’s mind, his chest constricted and he struggled to compose himself. If he fell apart, he’d be sent back to his dormitory. He could control himself, he had to. He wasn’t going to lose it in front of Snape of all people, he wouldn’t be sent back to Gryffindor before he knew if Dumbledore would survive. 

Harry shivered slightly, wrapping his arms around himself as he stared down at the headmaster through blurry eyes, this was all his fault. Please, he silently pleaded, Please wake up and be ok. He looked up as a vial was shoved into his hand, and his eyes met with Snape’s.

“Calming draught.”

Harry managed a weak smile of gratitude before his gaze dropped back down to the bed in front of him. What was going on with Snape? Why was he acting so…so…human? He was accustomed to seeing the hard, intense black eyes of his professor, hearing the biting voice. Tonight, though, Snape seemed concerned and while not overly friendly he was being quite nice. He could only guess Snape was as worried as he was for Dumbledore and wasn’t thinking clearly. There was no way Snape would ever be kind to Harry Potter.

“ You followed his orders, this is not your fault.” Severus said carefully, lifting Dumbledore’s limp hand to feel his pulse, “While this is an…unfortunate…setback, you are in no way responsible for the headmaster’s condition. I do believe I know the potion of which you described.”

“Will he live?”

“That is yet to be determined.”

Harry could have sworn he saw a bit of moisture in the professor’s eyes, which only fueled the panic that was only slightly dampened by the potion he had just consumed. His stomach twisted as Dumbledore began to gasp for breath and Snape immediately sprang into action once more, barking out orders to Harry as he began to recite incantations in an effort to save the headmaster. As quickly as the raspy breathing had began, it ended, and Harry waited with baited breath as Snape ran another diagnostic scan.

“He doesn’t have much time left.”

“He said it wasn’t a poison.” Harry said numbly, shaking slightly as he felt the calming draught work to calm his emotions, “But it was, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

The word was small and it had been spoken quietly, but the implications were monumental and Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He sank onto the bed next to Dumbledore’s, running his hands through his hair before looking up at the professor, who wore a painful expression of loss that Harry was sure mirrored on his own face. He looked lost, hurt and surprised, and Harry couldn’t help but be shocked that the normally detached professor was showing his emotions so openly.

“How much longer does he have?” Harry asked quietly, lightheaded and queasy as the implications of what was being said really began to sink in.

Severus’s voice cracked slightly as he replied, “Not long.”

As if the headmaster could hear the professor and somehow knew it was time, his chest grew still. Harry’s own heart fluttered as he carefully moved to sit beside his mentor, and he was surprised to see Snape sit on Dumbledore’s other side.

“He was the only person I had left that cared about me.” Harry whispered softly, staring into Dumbledore’s serene face, pain piercing his heart. He wanted to scream and cry, he wanted to throw things and blame someone, he wanted to lay down beside the headmaster and die himself, but he couldn’t. He would have to go back into the corridors soon, pretend like he was fine when he was really dying inside, and continue to hunt horocruxes and prepare for his ultimate battle with Voldemort.

Snape was quiet for a few moments before lifting Dumbledore’s limp hand into his own, “Me too.”

Harry’s eyes met Snape’s, and for a moment he was able to see the raw pain in the older wizard’s eyes. Looking back down at their fallen leader, he murmured, “Things are going to change now, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“What are we going to do?”

Snape stood, moving to the window where the sun was rising over the horizon, his voice calm despite the inner turmoil visible by his stance and eyes, “We’re going to pick up where he left off. We’re going to win the war.”