The room was deathly quiet, the only sound the hoarse breathing of the fiveoung people.

Ron was the first to recover. "What?" he demanded.

"Snape's alive?" Neville croaked.

"I thought you said he died," Ron looked at Harry, almost accusingly.

"Harry," Hermione's eyes were large and worried, "what - what does this mean?"

"Snape's alive," Harry whispered. "He's - he's alive. Somehow, he's alive."

Harry turned and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"To save Snape," Harry replied. "Where else?"

"Harry . . ." Hermione trailed off, concerned.

"Yeah, don't you want to -" Ron began, but Harry shook his head.

"No, I don't," Harry replied adamantly. "I'm going to save Snape. After all that happened, I'm saving one last person even if it kills me. You can stay here, but -"

"Oh, no," Ron shook his head, "we're all going together."

"You don't have to," Harry began, but Hermione shook her head.

"Don't start that all over again. Of course, we're coming with you."

Harry looked at both them, Hermione standing so tall and proud, Ron slouching slightly just like he did when they were about to tackle something new. Harry tried not to smile, feeling better than he had in weeks. The uneasy worry melted from him, he felt awake and alive again, ready to jump into action with Ron and Hermione beside him.

"Us, too," Neville added. "At least, I want to, and Luna -"

"I will help absolutely," Luna nodded ever so slightly, her eyes wide with the importance of what was happening.

"Is Snape close by, right outside the house?" Harry asked the owl which perched on the back of a chair. He wasn't sure the bird understood him, but she seemed to give a definite shake of her feathery head, ruffling and hooting. Harry took that for a no.

"Okay, here's what we should do," he decided. "Snape could be anywhere - no telling how far the owl had to fly. So I say we spread out, each take five or six streets. Someone needs to stay here as base, and we report in every twenty minutes back here. Luna, you want to be base?"

"Yes," she agreed immediately.

"Who can conjure up a map of this section of London?" Harry asked as he went to a nearby desk, grabbing scraps of paper and stubs of pencils from inside a drawer.

"I can," Hermione offered, pulling out her wand.

"We keep the main map here," Harry said. "We write down every street we look down, and then we come back and mark it off the map. That way we're not looking down the same streets over and over again."

Hermione had already transformed a large piece of parchment into a map of their section of the city. Everyone stared at the map for a second, staring at the tiny, winding streets that went on and on, dead ends of alleys, connecting bridges, tiny side streets.

"It's doable," Harry insisted. "It'll take a while, but we'll be more thorough this way. I'm going north. Ron?"

"South," Ron optioned.

"West," Hermione decided.

"Leaves me with East," Neville decided. "Luna, only let us in, no one else."

"We should have a password," Harry handed out the pieces of paper.

"Potions?" Ron suggested with a smirk.

"That'll do," Harry nodded. "Okay, everyone keep their wands hidden, but close."

"Let's go," Neville urged.

Ron stopped to press a kiss against Hermione's lips and warn her, "Be careful."

"You, too," she told him.

Though after eight o'clock, it was still light outside as they all went out, and Harry added, "Let's use the light as long as we can. Come on."

"Luna," Neville glanced over his shoulder, "remember the password. And if Malfoy gets free, hex him first and keep him that way until we return."

They all disappeared down different streets, and Harry found himself nearly running down the sidewalk. A few people were still out, and he tried to smile and look as normal as he could as he rushed along. He went into every back alley he came across, glancing behind every waste can, stacked box, anywhere Snape could be hiding.

Five long streets, and fourteen alleys later, Harry looked at his watch and saw nearly eighteen minutes had passed. He turned and sprinted back towards the townhouse. He reached the front stairs the same time as Ron.

"Anything?" Harry asked.

"Not a sign of the slimeball," Ron replied. "Don't look at me like that - only Hermione gives me that look. Besides, it's Snape."

"Come on," Harry growled.

He found the front door locked with the dead bolt.

"Password?" Luna asked from the other side.

"Potions," Harry said.

She opened it, pulling it let both of them in. "Yes?"

"No luck," Harry admitted.

"Neville just got here," Luna pointed down the hall. The large map was taped to the wall, and Neville stood in front of it, marking off his streets.

"Hermione?" Ron asked as he went to the map.

"Haven't seen her yet," Luna said.

Neville finished marking off and started for the door again. "I'll be back in another twenty minutes."

Using his scrap of paper for reference, Ron marked off his streets, and Harry was pleased to see that his friend had covered a lot of distance, but the map was still so big, filled with streets they had not covered.

"Where is Hermione?" Ron demanded as he finished and Harry started. "I should have gone with her."

"Yeah, but we cover more spilt up."

"What if this is a trick?" Ron turned to Harry. "What if Snape found her and cursed her while we're running around? Maybe that's his game - pick us off one by one."

Fortunately, before Harry could reply, the front knocker sounded.

"Thank goodness," Ron growled as he wrenched the door open. "You're two minutes late!"

"Ron," Hermione crossed her arms, "you're supposed to ask for the password before you open the door."

"Shut up and get inside," Ron ordered.

Harry quickly turned to the map, not wanting to witness a scene on the front doorstep of his townhouse. Every since Ron and Hermione had moved in together, they had become much closer to each other, but they also said things to each other that Harry knew they would not have said before, at least not with other people around.

"You'll pay for that," Hermione lightly smacked Ron in the stomach as she walked into the hall.

"Come back on time," Ron told her. He went out the door, shutting it behind him.

"So I'm guessing nothing?" Hermione asked as she began marking off her own streets.

"Nothing," Harry said. "But we might find this time."

However, twenty minutes later, they were all back with no results.

"Right," Harry faced the map. "We've moved out in a circle, six streets out from the house in every direction. Good job on searching every street."

"Thanks," Hermione replied.

"But we have to move out farther," Harry announced. "Keep searching, and let's meet back here in thirty minutes. It's starting to get dark so take your time looking in the alleys."

"Will do," Neville headed for the door.

"Hermione," Ron edged towards her.

"I'll be fine, Ronald," she said, her words slightly clipped.

"You better," he caught her hand.

Something passed between them, as she squeezed his hand, something warm and electric. A second later, they broke apart, but Harry felt like he had witnessed a very private moment. As he went back to the streets, now brushed with twilight, he wondered if he would be like that with Ginny once they were together permanently. A hundred tiny fights that lasted minutes, and then making up without a word. It was something he hoped with everything inside him, every fiber of his now-whole soul.

So involved was he thinking about his best friends that Harry didn't realize he had crossed the already-searched streets and had come onto a new one. This street he felt less familiar with; he had seldom walked on it, preferring to go south when he wandered the city. The buildings on this street looked sad: crooked, old, broken with windows boarded up, pieces of gutter and roof hanging down.

The street had lights, but most were broken, a few bare patches of light on the long stretch of the street. It was getting very dark, and Harry hurried along, his hand inside his pocket, gripping his wand. He saw an alley to the left, a niche that went back a little ways. It looked so small that Harry had already passed it when he heard something move inside.

Whirling around, he approached the dark space, drawing his wand out a few inches. Inside was too dark to see, a void of blackness.

"Anyone there?" Harry asked slowly.

A rustle, then a cat ran out of the alley.

Harry jumped back as it tore by, a streak of black that looked like the darkness moving out of the void. Harry nearly yelled out a hex, but he caught himself just in time. The cat disappeared around another corner, and Harry was about to keep going when he heard a slight groan from the blackness.

Harry glance behind him. No one was on the street, and most the windows were dark. Slipping out his wand, Harry murmured "Lumos."

A blue glow appeared at the tip of his wand. The alley filled with blue light.

Harry jerked in horror at what he saw, and his grip on the wand slipped. The light disappeared, the alley cloaked in darkness again. Heart pounding, Harry tried to take a breath, making himself stand still while only wanting to run away.

With every bit of courage left, Harry whispered the spell again, and the blue light glowed inside the tiny alley.

Behind a tumble of boxes, a man lay in rags. One arm was covered in blood, a bruised white face under a mat of dirty hair, festering cuts all over, gaunt limbs stickling at odd angles.

Harry stepped up, but the man's eyes were closed, his face caught in a grimace of pain. But he had been moaning, and even though he wasn't moving, surely he wasn't dead yet.

"Snape?" Harry whispered.

No answer. The tortured man did not move.

"Snape? Snape?" Harry stuck his lit wand in his back pocket and knelt down.

A soft groan escaped the man's bruised, cut lips. His eyes opened the slightest bit, blood-shot around the dark black pupils, and he stared right up at Harry.

"Hell," Snape said between frozen lips.

"You're alive," Harry felt his lips curve up, so happy to find that he wasn't dead, that there was still a chance, still hope.

"You," Snape whispered. "Why - you?"

"I got the message, by the owl," Harry said in a rush. "We're all looking for you."

"Just let me - die," Snape moaned, trying to turn away from Harry.

"Hey!" Harry protested. "Stop that. Just hold on, okay? I'm going to help you. You're not going to die, not here, not like this."

Snape closed his eyes in resignation, but when he opened them, the familiar disgust and hatred was back. "Just like you, Potter, the glorious hero. The precious golden boy."

"Yes, you keep hold of that feeling," Harry told him. "You stay awake, and you concentrate on just how much you hate me."

"Oh, I do," Snape hissed.

"You hate me more than anyone can imagine," Harry said, glancing over Snape. "Hate me so much."

"So much," Snape snarled.

"Is anything broken?" Harry asked. "Your arm? Legs? Ribs?"

"No, you arrogant, spoiled -"

"Worthless," Harry continued the list, "pathetic, horrible," he took off the collared shirt he wore, baring the plain white tee shirt he wore underneath. Immediately, he ripped the nice shirt into strips. "Don't move - hold still. What else? Stupid, daft, brainless . . ."

"Don't forget sneaky," Snape sneered.

"That's right," Harry slowly lifted Snape's arm. "No, no, don't struggle. It's only going to bleed more."

"Oh!" Snape lifted his eyes up to the dark night sky, clenching his teeth in agony as Harry held his arm.

Harry knew it must hurt, but he had to get Snape to concentrate on something, anything, to keep him from passing out from the pain.

"Come on," Harry demanded as he quickly wrapped the rags around the open gashes in the man's right arm. "Hold on, you ugly, greasy, old bat - Snivellus!"

Snape's eyes snapped back to him, angry and ready to fight.

"That's right - Snivellus," Harry made his tone mocking as he hurried with the second strip. "Crying over a little scratch. No wonder my mother left you."

"I'll kill you," Snape hissed. "With my bare hands, you nasty little -"

"Finished with that," Harry set his arm down as gently as possible. He got behind Snape, bracing each knee just behind Snape's shoulders. "You think you can sit up for me or are you too weak?"

"I'll never do anything for you," Snape growled, but Harry already had eased both hands under his shoulders, under his rag-covered arms to give Harry something to hold onto when he tried to pull Snape up. Briefly, he thought about running home to get help, but he didn't want Snape left alone, probably passing out from pain and blood lost.

"Here we go," Harry began pull slowly. He wished he could levitate Snape back to the townhouse, but someone might see.

Snape had put his feet against the cracked pavement to give him leverage to stand, but once Harry started pulling, Snape cried out, "No! Oh, no, please!"

The raw agony in the man's voice tore at Harry, and he felt sick and hot and angry, but he shouted, "I'm not letting you die. Stand up, you piece of slime, get up! Get up or I swear I'll kill you right here and now. Me, James Potter's son, against the pathetic Severus Snape."

As he shouted, Harry pulled against the man with all his might, and to his surprise, Snape actually ended up standing, swaying dizzily, but standing on his own face. Harry immediately ducked under his left arm, bracing Snape against him, pulling the thin man against his own side.

"Seven blocks," Harry whispered. "Just seven blocks. You can make it seven blocks. That's nothing."

Yet, with the first step, Snape's face screwed into an expression of such pain that Harry had to bit his own lip. Snape was a littler taller than he was, but the man was thinner. Harry could feel the ribs under the hand around Snape, skin stretched tight over bare bones.

They limped forward, taking tiny steps. Snape's breathing was short, catching in his throat. Harry felt his eyes pricking with tears, but he stared stoically ahead, refusing to break down even in front of such obviously awful pain.

They made it six blocks, one block from the townhouse. Harry could see the corner of the street where they lived, could see the line of houses that he passed everyday. So close, almost there, and then he felt Snape sag limply against him, deadweight in his arms, as the man's eyes slid shut.

"No," Harry bellowed. "No, Snape, wake up. Come on, we're almost there. Please, just - Ron ! Hermione! Neville!" he shouted as loudly as he could, praying they would hear him. "I found him. Help me!"

No one answered. Snape was drooping in Harry's arms, Harry fighting to keep him from slumping to the pavement.

And then Ron ran around the corner. "Harry!" the redhead yelled. "Harry, hold on - I'm coming."

Ron had just reached him when Neville and Hermione ran from opposite streets, hurrying to help them.

"Oh," Hermione covered her mouth when she got close. "What happened to him?"

"He was lying in an alley when I found him," Harry quickly explained as Ron got on Snape's other side and hoisted him up, positioning his arm just under Harry's on Snape's back. "Neville, can you get his feet? He went unconscious only a few seconds ago. Hermione, I tried to bind his arm -"

"We just need to get him home," Hermione stepped back and cast a spell around them that would make Snape invisible to Muggles. Harry's cries had caused a few people to look out their windows, and one old woman opened her door to tell them to be quiet. Harry knew they must look strange as they carried someone not there, but he hoped no one would stop them.

They made it to the townhouse without trouble, and after giving Luna the password, the three young men carried Snape into the house.

"We need to take him upstairs," Hermione told them. "I'll go lay sheets out on a bed so we can clean him up. Luna, get Kreacher to start heating water."

"Put him in my room," Luna called over her shoulder. "It's closest to the stairs."

"Fine," Hermione clamored up the stairs.

As they slowly carried Snape up the stairs, trying not to his head or any limbs against the wall, they could hear Hermione pulling drawers open and throwing stuff on the table by the bed. Once they got Snape in the room, Hermione pointed to the bed.

"Lay him down carefully. Neville, go look in the medicine cupboard and bring everything you can find. You know what plants are the best for healing. Mix them up. Ron, search every room and bring all the sheets you can find. Start ripping them into strips. Harry, find soap and rags and help Kreacher with the hot water."

"Do you want us to -" Harry motioned to Snape who lay still on the bed.

"No," Hermione shook her head, "Luna will help me. Sorry, but this is woman's work. Someone bring me some scissors. I need to cut his hair to see if he had any head wounds. Harry?"

Hermione looked straight at him, her eyes direct and intense.

"What?" he asked quickly.

"Snape is still a wanted man," Hermione replied. "Only you know the truth. You need to figure out what you're going to do. Tonight."

"I will," Harry nodded before he left the room to find rags.

For the next hour, he toted buckets of water up and down the stairs. Kreacher protested, but Harry told him to keep boiling water. The door to Snape's room stayed closed. Luna opened it every so often, handing Harry a bucket of soiled water, dirty and bloody, and shut the door without a word. One bucket was full of matted hair, and Harry saw some of the pieces were crusted with dried blood.

Neville stayed in the kitchen, cutting roots and herbs and mixing poultices for Harry to run upstairs. Ron sat with him at the table, tearing the sheets and cutting off the loose strings. They worked without talking, hands moving, eyes focused on the task before them.

At nearly midnight, the stairs creaked, and Hermione came in with Luna right behind her.

The three young men froze, Harry shocked for a second at her appearance. Hermione's straight skirt was splattered with blood and dirt, her white shirt now grimy, her hands coated with filth and dried blood.

"We're finished," she announced. "We did all we could. He's sleeping, and it's out of our hands now. But it was so . . ."

She stood in the doorway, fighting against some awful emotion. She closed her eyes, and tears spilled down her pale cheeks. Choking on a sob, she ran for Ron. He stood up, arms open, and a moment later, she was crying into his shoulder, her blood-stained hands gripping him tightly.

Luna looked just as dirty, but she went to sit down beside Ron, her eyes wide in her small face.

"It was terrible," Hermione's muffled voice sounded from Ron's shoulder. "I'd never seen anyone so -" she pulled back to look at Ron. "He'd been tortured, Ron. Not just a little. His neck - where the snake bit him - it was still oozing poison. Someone broke the fingers in his left hand, and they got set crooked."

"We had to strip him," Luna whispered. "He was covered in cuts, too many cuts for one body."

"And some of them weren't new," Hermione's voice was hoarse. "He had old scars, years of scars, purple and red. Is that why he wore those long robes, even the summer? Was he hiding the torture?"

"We wanted to put salve on the cuts and cover them up," Luna kept staring ahead as she spoke. "But there were too many."

"We ended up binding him with the strips of cloth, from head to toe, after washing him and rubbing him down with poultices," Hermione continued, still holding on to Ron. "He didn't wake up."

"He was thin," Luna continued in the same blank tone. "I could count all his ribs. I never knew someone could look so . . . un-human."

"That's it," Hermione nodded fervently at her. "It wasn't human, completely inhuman. All this time, after what Snape did at Hogwarts - Neville, you told us some of the things that happened at Hogwarts. After I heard that, I was glad Snape died."

"Mione!" Ron's eyes opened wide.

"I was," she cried out. "He should have never let those things happen to children, but now -" she burst into fresh tears, retreating into Ron's shoulder again.

Luna looked at Neville, and he scooted closer to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and very hesitantly, Neville reached up to brush some hair off her forehead.

Harry watched them, wishing so bad he had someone there for him to comfort, someone to comfort him even.

"All right," Hermione sniffed as she pulled away from Ron, dropping into a seat and blinked to clear her eyes, not wanting to smear her hands over her face. "What now? Harry?"

"What are we going to do with Snape?" Ron asked, standing protectively over her.

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "I know what he's done," with a side glance at Neville, "but somehow I just feel . . . I mean, I know he killed Dumbledore, but Dumbledore made him. And he joined Voldemort, but he tried to leave. And he was so horribly messed up, and my dad was partly to blame, and I just wonder if I should be the one to save him. I keep thinking, it's my fault somehow. It might not be, but what if it is? What do I do with him now? And I know I have to do now."

"And?" Hermione sniffed again.

Harry stood up. "I'm taking a stand here. Right here I'm taking a stand for everything I fought so hard for. I didn't let them kill the Malfoys. And I'm saying right here tonight I'm not letting Snape burn, either."