Harry stumbled, almost falling to his knees, as the Floo spit him out into the drawing room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It hadn't changed much since the last time Harry had been there. It was still dim and gloomy, filled with imposing antique furniture, threadbare rugs and heavy velvet drapes covering the tall windows. A couple of cabinets lined the walls and several tables were scattered across the long room, all filled with the curious and sometimes sinister trinkets and knick-knacks that the Black family had collected over the centuries.

Harry didn't spare a glance at any of them. He rushed out the door and up the narrow staircase in the hall outside. On the second landing he passed the bedroom that he and Ron had shared during the time they'd stayed here before fifth year, but Harry hurried by it and continued upwards.

He'd never been up to the top of the house before, but he didn't even think about why he felt drawn there now. He just raced up the stairs two at a time until he reached the last landing, then he leaned against the wall, breathing hard and blinking back tears.

Severus would come after him, he knew. The professor might be stepping gracefully out of the fireplace downstairs even now. But Harry hoped it would take him some time to find him. He needed a little time alone before he faced Severus again.

Harry took deep breaths and pressed his hands hard against his face, willing the tears to go away. He needed to think, to try to absorb this dreadful news and to decide how he was going to handle things with Severus now.

But he couldn't concentrate. He just kept hearing the professor's quiet, flat voice saying those horrible words again. He kept picturing Severus' thin face, as still and set as stone, his black eyes expressionless, as he told Harry how he had gone to Voldemort with the news of the prophecy.

His parents had died because Voldemort had learned of that prophecy. James and Lily Potter had lost their lives when they were only twenty-one. Harry had lost the two people who had loved him most. He'd lost the chance to have brothers and sisters, and to grow up as part of a real family.

Instead he'd had to live with the Dursleys, suffering from their neglect and abuse. He'd been singled out as a target by Voldemort from the time he was a baby, before he'd been born even. Everything he'd suffered and endured all his life was because of the prophecy...because Severus Snape had run to Voldemort with it, just like a good little Death Eater.

But he was a Death Eater. You knew it before. You knew he served Voldemort and did all kinds of horrible things, probably worse things than this, a voice in the back of Harry's mind pointed out.

But he had never really let himself think about it before. Now he couldn't stop thinking about it. Had Severus tortured people, like Bellatrix LeStrange and the other Death Eaters had tortured him? Had he delighted in it? Had he killed people before?

An image of Severus in Death Eater garb, pointing his wand at innocent victims and coolly pronouncing their fate, rose in Harry's mind. He shook his head violently to get rid of it and opened his eyes.

SIRIUS.

His godfather's name was engraved on a nameplate on the door in front of him, just level with his eyes. Harry blinked and reached to trace the letters with trembling fingers. His grief had eased over the past months, especially since the day he'd sort of exploded at the Death Eaters and cried in Severus' arms for hours. But at that moment a fierce longing to see his godfather again swept over Harry, so strongly it was almost a physical pain.

"Harry!"

It was Severus. His voice was coming from a couple of floors below, and Harry quickly slipped inside Sirius' room before the professor could come up the stairs and find him. He just wasn't able to face Severus yet.

Sirius' room was dark. Crimson drapes covered the window and dust lay in a thick layer over the furniture. Harry glanced about, noting the Gryffindor banner and posters on the walls and an ancient-looking broomstick leaning in a corner. At another time, he might have been intrigued in exploring his godfather's childhood room, but right now, Harry couldn't find the heart to be interested even in that. He crossed the room and sank down with his back leaning against the wall. He didn't know how to respond to Severus. He loved Severus, but at the same time, he was so angry and so hurt with him, that Harry just didn't think he could stand to be around him.

"Harry! I know you're here. We need to talk. Please?"

Severus' voice was coming closer and Harry huddled closer to the wall, hoping that somehow Severus wouldn't notice him, but of course that was a foolish hope.

The professor came to the doorway and paused. "Harry, please..."

Harry was on his feet in a flash. "Go away! I don't want to talk right now!"

Severus took a step closer. "Harry..."

He had to get out of there. He couldn't run out of the room because Severus was blocking the doorway. That only left the window. In a flash Harry had snatched the old broomstick from the corner, flung the window open and soared out. Severus almost caught him, but for once the professor wasn't quite quick enough.

"Harry, get back here! You know..."

There was real fear in Severus' voice now. Harry just registered it as he fought to maintain his balance on the old wobbly broom. He paused, an instant's doubt flashed through his mind. Perhaps he should go back.

A red jet of light hit the broomstick and shattered it. Harry fell, landing on a soft snowbank in a neighbors' small backyard garden, shards of the broom littering the ground beside him. He had a split second to realise that he likely would have broken bones, at the very least, if it hadn't been for the snow, but there was no time to feel grateful.

Four figures in dark hooded robes and masks materialised before him, wands raised. Harry's blood turned to ice and he was struggling to breathe as he jerked his own wand from his pocket and raised it with a shaking hand.

"Protego!" Severus was beside him, throwing a Shield Charm around them both and blocking a string of curses just in time.

Suddenly feeling better, Harry leaped to his feet as adrenaline surged through him. With Severus at his side, perhaps they had a chance.

At first they did. Standing back to back, Harry and Severus managed to keep their Shield Charm reinforced and to send their own spells at the Death Eaters, keeping them at bay. But Harry knew it couldn't last forever. They were outnumbered and they couldn't Apparate away without pausing in their defense and giving the Death Eaters a chance to stun them.

Within minutes, it grew even worse. One of the Death Eaters must have somehow contacted others, because three more suddenly appeared and joined their comrades.

"We have to get out of here," Severus muttered. "Harry, cast a Shield Charm and I'll reinforce it. Then grab my arm. Perhaps..."

A purple light struck him in the chest and Severus abruptly crumpled to the ground, a still dark heap on the silver-white snow.

"Severus!" Harry screamed. His heart felt ripped from his chest, leaving raw agony behind, tearing him in two. Raising his wand, he screamed frantic hexes at the Death Eaters. He had to beat them off, right away, and get help for Severus. Somehow he had to.

Suddenly Dumbledore was there with him and Severus. The old wizard stood straight and tall, placing himself between his protégés and their enemies. Through tear-blurred eyes, Harry saw him point at the Death Eaters with his good hand and the seven of them were enmeshed in ropes, their wands flying from their grasps to land in a harmless pile beside Dumbledore.

The headmaster ignored the wands, though. In the blink of an eye he had swept Severus up in his arms and said quickly, "Grab my arm, Harry."

Harry just had time to wrap his cold fingers in Dumbledore's golden robes and then they were Apparating away. They landed back in the drawing room inside Grimmauld Place and Dumbledore rushed to the fireplace.

"Floo powder." His voice was quiet, but urgent.

Harry grabbed some powder from the vase on the mantel and threw it in as Dumbledore stepped in, still carrying Severus. "Come back to Hogwarts immediately, Harry," he ordered before calling, "Hogwarts infirmary!"

Harry didn't have to be told to follow. The instant the flames had died down after Dumbledore and Severus, he had more powder in hand and leaped into the grate.

When the Floo tossed him out into the infirmary a moment later, Harry saw Severus lying on a nearby cot, his face unusually pale and still, even for him. Dumbledore was already performing spells over him and Madame Pomfrey was hurrying towards them to help.

Harry wanted, desperately, to run over to Severus' side, too. He even took a step towards the cot, but he would just be in the way and might hinder Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey so he made himself stay back and watch in helpless terror.

As the two older wizards worked over the fallen man on the cot, Harry kept seeing Severus lying on the snow, still and unmoving after that curse had hit him. It was just like Sirius all over again. Sirius had died coming to save Harry, and now it was happening again.

But Severus couldn't die. He just couldn't. There were so many things Harry needed to tell him. Harry remembered how angry he'd been, how he had run away when Severus was trying to help him, and he thought he just couldn't bear it. Severus might be dying and it was all Harry's fault. He might never have the chance to tell Severus that it was all right, that of course Harry forgave him and loved him and wanted Severus to adopt him...if Severus would even still want to now.

Finally, after what seemed an interminable time, Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey turned to one another and spoke in quiet voices for a moment before Madame Pomfrey turned and headed back to her office, saying, "I'll get the potions ready for when he wakes up."

Harry raised his head sharply. When he woke up? Did that mean...?

Hope and fear warred in his heart before Dumbledore came over and rested his good hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Severus will recover, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and tears silently slipped down his cheeks. "Are you sure?" he choked.

"I'm sure. He'll need to take some potions and to take things easy for a few days, but he'll be fine." Dumbledore paused. "Harry..."

"I know. It's all my fault. I was so stupid. I deserve anything you want to do to me," Harry said, bitter shame and remorse almost overwhelming him.

"I was going to ask if you were all right," Dumbledore said softly.

"Me?" Harry looked up at him. "But I left school, and then I..."

"I know, and you must not act so foolishly again. Today could have been a tragedy." Just for an instant Dumbledore's voice was stern, but it gentled again. "But I think you know that. I'm sure you won't do anything like this again."

He squeezed Harry's shoulder and went on. "I happened to come down immediately after you'd taken off to Grimmauld Place and Severus explained to me what he'd just told you. I know that news had to come as a blow to you, and while I wish you had not left the school grounds, I can understand how upset you must have been."

"Harry, Severus is truly sorry, for what he did to your family and to others during that time. He has suffered terrible remorse for many years. It was his desperation to atone that led him to become our spy, and that was a burden that I would never have asked anyone to take on." Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Harry, I know you have a right to your anger. You've suffered more than anyone because of Severus' actions. But I just want you to know that he has suffered, too."

"I know." Harry nodded. He looked over at Severus' unconscious form. "Can I stay here with him?"

"Of course. He will likely remain unconscious for a few hours, so don't worry about that." Dumbledore straightened. "Now I must return to Grimmauld Place. Hopefully, our prisoners there are still safely contained."

"Will you be all right, sir?" Harry asked, then realised how foolish that sounded. Despite his arm being injured, Dumbledore was obviously still extremely powerful. He'd subdued all seven Death Eaters with almost no effort, within seconds of his arrival.

But Dumbledore just smiled gently at him and nodded. "Yes, Harry. I plan to contact Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, too, so they'll be there to take custody of our friends and to provide any assistance if it should be needed."

Once he'd gone, Harry looked back at Severus' cot and slowly made his way over to it. He sat down on the edge and hesitantly reached for Severus' hand. It was cold, and Harry rubbed it gently between his his own until it warmed.

There were so many things he'd wanted to say to Severus, and had been terrified that he wouldn't have the chance, but now that they were alone, Harry didn't know how to begin.

Finally he whispered. "Thank you. You saved me again, Severus. You'd probably be angry with me if you were awake and you'd have a right to be. I know I was stupid, leaving the house like that. The Death Eaters almost got me. They would have if it weren't for you."

"I'm sorry. I know that's not good enough, but I'm really, really sorry. I'll never do anything so stupid and careless again, I promise. I was so upset, and I didn't know what to do, how to handle it. But Severus, when I thought I'd lost you, I was so scared."

Harry lay down beside Severus, nestling close and burying his face against the professor's shoulder. He began crying again, his quiet sobs muffled against Severus' soft woolen robes.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I love you, and I want you to be my dad, if you still want to adopt me. But I couldn't blame you if you didn't. I hope you'll forgive me."

Severus stirred slightly, and then his arm curled around Harry, his hand coming up to lightly card through the boy's unruly hair.

"Foolish child. I love you, too."