Among the things that Severus hated about being at the Dark Lord's—right after Cruciatus and being in constant worry for his life—was never knowing what to expect when he was summoned.

Of course, Voldemort was generally his usual self: cold and cynical, and perpetually two seconds away from pinning you to the ground with a curse, whether friend or foe.

But the difference between a Voldemort satisfied with his day and one who was cranky could quickly move you from life to death.

Today, Snape had his potions, and he had information. But he'd rarely before felt as nervous approaching his master. Too little time since the last visit…too little time to recover, for his mental barriers to become sufficient again.

But enough time for him to prepare his own healing potions. He felt a stabbing pain in his spinal column as he bowed before the wizard in black.

"Master…."

"Severus. I assume my potions are ready this time?" asked the Dark Lord, his voice almost amused.

"Yes, master."

"Good. I see that my lesson bore fruit. All children need to be sorted out from time to time, isn't that so, my boy?"

Snape shuddered. "Probably, master."

"Probably, Severus?" asked Voldemort, his voice full of menace.

"Without a doubt, my lord. Thank you," the Death Eater replied humbly.

"That's better. Now, stand. What else have you brought for me?"

Snape stood, feeling his knee almost give out. Upright, he had to remain upright. Voldemort must not see his weakness.

"The boy Potter, he's been entrusted into the care of an Order member. I still don't know which one, but I believe he's well-protected."

"Indeed," said the Dark Lord calmly. "He's well-protected."

The Potions master felt a shiver run through him. Did Voldemort know?

"I've not yet succeeded in locating him," he added, trying to hide his distress. "but I've strong suspicions."

"Suspicions, Severus? Suspicions are not enough for me!" Voldemort bit out, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair.

Snape couldn't help but feel relief. He wasn't the cause of it…for now.

"I have good reason to believe that the boy's in the care of Remus Lupin," he stated.

"Lupin? The famous werewolf who tried to teach at Hogwarts…and a friend of James Potter's. One of your old acquaintances, Severus," Voldemort murmured.

Snape nodded. Let him amuse himself by running after the werewolf if that kept him busy; if Dumbledore himself hadn't been able to find him when Harry'd desperately needed his help, then no one could do it.

"Yes," the Dark Lord finally said, apparently satisfied. "It's likely…very likely. The boy knows him and trusts him. Much too much."

Once again, Snape felt his entire body tense. What did he mean by that?

Riddle seemed to guess his question, because he shifted his eyes, brimming with satisfaction, to Snape again.

"Whatever dear Dumbledore is doing to keep me from Potter's mind, he can do nothing about the connection that links us. Not completely, and certainly not when the dear boy is as upset as he is."

"Upset, master?" Snape asked softly.

"Clearly upset and unstable. For now, Dumbledore has succeeded in denying me direct access to Potter's mind, but his emotions recently have been strong enough to breach those protections.

"It would appear that Lupin enjoys playing substitute father to the boy. Potter feels surrounded, and that upsets him. Add to that a feeling of false security that is foreign to him. I can almost sense it now. Several hours ago, something upset him enough to make him let down all his defenses.

"It's the most hilarious paradox that our dear Dumbledore has ever given me…love, love, love; it's the only word the old fool knows how to say! But it's exactly these cheap sentiments that will fail him; will it not be exquisitely delicious to see old Albus' strategy backfire and work against him?"

Snape felt himself grow pale.

He knew it. He'd known from the beginning, he'd known that he shouldn't let the boy grow attached to him, that he shouldn't have shown himself as so protective, nor even friendly.  But it was his own fault; he'd complacently let go of his own inclinations in favor of not letting the boy be afraid, and look where it'd brought them!

As for a few hours ago, it was an easy enough guess; it was the moment when Harry'd eavesdropped in on that little conversation between him and Dumbledore!

Bloody hell, if he'd had the slightest suspicion that the boy could hear that, if only he'd sensed his presence, if…

He had to get ahold of himself. Harry wasn't in immediate danger; there was still time to get him to safety if he got out of here.

"Master, that is excellent news, which should help you during the trial…." he managed to say in a gleeful voice.

"Ah, the trial. That's right, you'd know about that…."

"Yes, master. Dumbledore's bright idea is to try and push the hearing to as late in the summer as possible, so afraid he is of the meeting," Severus said.

"He might. Potter's Muggles were particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of once and for all getting rid of him for a reward. Isn't it ironic? The prodigal son of the of the wizarding world, the hero of all wizardom, Dumbledore's precious protégé, whom you're barely permitted to justly punish, Severus. How his own family hates him! They're positively astonishing…they'll stop at nothing to belittle the boy. Really, I should've already rewarded them; they've contributed significantly to my cause by making him so unstable and emotional. It will truly be child's play to have him in my power when the moment comes," Voldelmort concluded in a satisfied voice.

”Master," Snape replied, "I beg you, however, to be wary of Potter's powers. Dumbledore was not explicit, but I suspect he's carefully hiding what really happened to Potter during his absence…probably something dangerous enough to be considered as a weapon to be kept secret."

The Dark Lord drummed his fingers on the armrest again, observing his Death Eater thoughtfully. "Indeed, perhaps there's something more to that. Might I know, Severus, why you've not brought proof of it to me?"

"Master, I had too little time, and Dumbledore hardly let me near him. I was able to ascertain that Potter wasn't with the Weasleys, nor in Kingsley's care. I'll try to find out more as soon as possible, my lord," he pleaded.

"I heartily agree. You've done good work, Severus," said the Dark Lord in a soft voice that didn't persuade the Death Eater to relax.

"However, not enough to excuse you. Crucio."

In a split second, just before he gave up holding back his screams, Severus thought that, all things considered, he would've been better off, in the end, had he drunk the fourth and final potion in the box…

ooooOOOOoooo

"So, Harry, how is your stay at the Manor?"

Dumbledore's voice was polite, but Harry sensed that there was more to it than a routine question.

"Good. Really good. At least, I think it is," he sighed in spite of himself.

"You think it is?" the Headmaster repeated encouragingly.

"Professor, I…when you came to talk to Professor Snape earlier, I overheard your conversation. I truly didn't do it on purpose, I swear! I was…in my other form, and I was simply coming back to the house and the window was open, so I could hear. I mean, listen."

He glanced apologetically at the old wizard, who nodded.

"And what exactly did you hear then, Harry?"

"You talking about the trial at the Ministry. The Dursleys. And Professor Snape didn't want me to go there just now. I…" he stopped, frustrated. There were too many things to say, and too many things he didn't want to say out loud.

Dumbledore seemed to understand.

"Harry, that conversation must've shaken you, but you must understand. Professor Snape and I have different opinions on the matter, and we both probably see you in different ways. For my part, I believe that the sooner you face your family and this hearing, the sooner you'll finally feel free. Isn't that right?"

"I don't know," the boy murmured. "It's hard for me to even imagine…."

"Precisely my point. Professor Snape also has your best interests at heart. However, he's not known you nearly as long, and his recent view of things…compels him to want to protect you more than is probably good for you."

With his words, Harry clenched his teeth. "Did anyone think of asking my opinion?" he asked. "You just can't stop making my decisions for me, without asking me! It's not like…you're not my parents! No one is, I'm sixteen now, and I think I'm able to make my own decisions!"

"I can understand that, my boy," Dumbledore replied calmly. "In this instance, what would you like to do?"

"I…I don't know. I need time to think about it. I'd like to talk to Snape about it…I mean, Professor Snape, when he comes back. If he'll actually talk to me."

"Is something wrong?" the Headmaster asked.

"Earlier, during our Occlumency session, the professor realized that I'd overheard your conversation. He was furious…even worse than with the Pensieve, if that's possible," Harry confessed, more and more upset as he recalled the scene.

"Indeed, that vision probably reminded Professor Snape of that bad memory you both shared in your recent past," suggested Dumbledore.

"I suppose…but I really didn't do it on purpose, Professor, I swear it! I was walking by, and I heard your voice. I don’t know. Everything was going so well, it was almost as if it was a different Snape, and all of a sudden…everything's like it was before," the boy finished morosely.

"Am I to understand that things between you and Professor Snape are much better now?"

"Yeah, I think so. Well, they are. He's different; he doesn't look at me the same way, as if I were a Blast-Ended Skrewt contaminating his personal space; he's even nice, most of the time." He coughed, embarrassed.

Professor Snape, nice? If the Potions master were to hear that, Harry wouldn't have to worry about the incident of a while ago; there'd be nothing left for him to do but pack his bags. Preferably for another country.

But Dumbledore contented himself with simply nodding, a slight smile on his face.

Encouraged, the boy went on, "He's really taking good care of me. But I think after what's just happened, I'm going to deserve the Potions professor again," he grimaced.

"Professor Snape has his reasons, Harry. This entire situation isn't particularly easy for him either; don't forget that just a few days ago, we feared for his life. The professor's always made it a point of honor to hide his weaknesses, but it's not hard to see that he's still not recovered from his last trip to Voldemort."

"And he's there again…" murmured Harry, a familiar weight settling suddenly onto his chest. He was worrying about Snape being angry, while the man was at this exact moment risking his life…for him.

"In your place, Harry, I wouldn't concern myself too much over this matter," said Dumbledore reassuringly. "The professor has your security very much at heart, and I doubt he'll remain angry with you for very long."

"I don't know," murmured Harry. He had a sinking feeling that there was something much deeper behind this anger. "I just hope he doesn't hate me as much as the last time. I was starting to get used to…" he finished, his voice becoming bitter.

"Oh, Harry," said the Headmaster gently. "No, Professor Snape won't hate you. Believe me, whatever my powers of persuasion, he'd have never agreed to bring you here, to his Manor, if that'd been the case. And what's more, I certainly would've never left you in his care if I'd suspected that the unfortunate episodes of Hogwarts that the two of you lived through could've been repeated."

Harry nodded, his mind put to rest a bit.

"I just wish he'd come back quickly."

Dumbledore smiled and, by way of a reply, held out a package of Every Flavour Beans.

ooooOOOOoooo

Barely a few minutes had passed when the room was filled with the sound of a familiar crack!

Harry and Dumbledore jumped to their feet, and instinctively headed for the figure that'd just appeared in the middle of the room. Snape seemed on the verge of staggering in the empty space, then caught himself and turned toward them, his face cold and haggard.

"Severus, is everything all right?" Dumbledore inquired, obviously worried by the sight of the Potions master's contorted face.

"No. Potter, in your room, and don't even think about leaving it again this evening!"

Harry swallowed hard. "Professor…."

"Now!"

His tone left no room for a reply, and after meeting the professor's crazed eyes, the boy headed for the stairs, with an apologetic look for Dumbledore.

"Severus, surely Harry has the right to know what it's about," pleaded the Headmaster.

But for now, Snape didn't seem inclined to discuss it.

"Absolutely not. You'll have my report tomorrow. I assume the boy's eaten? Perfect. In that case, lights out and if you even think of putting a foot outside of your room, Potter, I assure you it'll be the last time. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Harry's eyes grew wider. That Snape sometimes allowed himself to direct cutting remarks tinged with irony to the Headmaster was one thing. But that little speech had been completely disrespectful and hostile.

Be that as it may, Dumbledore didn't seem to be offended, and contented himself with a nod of his head. "Tomorrow morning, Severus, I'll come to get Harry."

"Perfect," replied the Potions master through clenched teeth. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the Headmaster and then headed for the stairs.

Stunned, Harry managed to wrench his eyes from the two men, and hurried toward the stairs, which he took four at a time. Rushing into his room, he quickly closed the door.

Snape was just a few steps behind him, and Harry heard him murmur some obscure spells as he walked past the room.

The Potions master slammed his door, and silence once again reigned in the Manor.

Sitting on his bed, his knees drawn up, Harry tried to think about the situation.

He could understand Snape being furious with him—he was used to it. But the way he'd treated Dumbledore?

And yet, the Headmaster hadn't seemed to take it badly. Surely this wasn't a common occurrence…Dumbledore had always appeared to be the sole living person whom Snape respected.

Was it because of the conversation that they'd had earlier? Probably not.

The Death Eater meeting? What had happened there? Snape had refused to give an immediate report on it, and he'd clearly been shaken.

And he'd gone to bed right away…Harry was in a position to know that the professor only left his dungeon to sleep. Not a book or a potion in the bedchamber…

Evidently, Voldemort had really laid into him.

Because of him. Harry felt a shiver run through him. Of course, Snape was angry with him. He'd just been tortured for the second time in the space of several days because of Harry.

All right, Snape had excellent reasons to hate him, and he wasn't at all sure he wanted to know the details.

If he'd been able to take him something to eat…but it'd be best to follow orders and not leave his room. This really wasn't the time to annoy the professor.

ooooOOOOoooo

Severus wondered by what miracle he'd managed to Apparate without being splinched.

He'd barely managed to make out the familiar contours of the laboratory when he noticed the two figures coming to meet him.

No, not them, not now. Every single one of his nerve endings screamed for the strongest painkilling potion that'd ever been conceived, and he wasn't certain his legs would hold up for more than a few minutes.

For certain, his departure from Malfoy Manor had been less than dignified; Disapparating during a moment when the Dark Lord's attention had wavered fell far short of glorious, but he hardly cared what the Death Eaters' thought of him.

On the other hand, he was absolutely not inclined to show his weakness to the only two people whom it was still important for him to impress.

And good god, did they need to look at him with such worry and compassion? Did he appear to deserve their pity?

All he wanted now was peace, to collapse ungracefully into bed and gulp down the stock of painkilling potions he kept in his bedside table. And if possible, die from them. He groped with a hand for the bottles, and swallowed their contents, one after the other.

Was it possible that the Dark Lord had really let him off so easily? Had he really seen what he'd seen?

Impossible. No, it was impossible…and yet, hadn't Voldemort himself reacted? And the Death Eaters?

That big black dog that'd jumped from out of nowhere as Severus was stretched out on the ground, and that'd started to bark insanely at Voldemort, interrupting his incantation… That dog that wasn't one….a simple shadow of what had been an Animagus, of him who'd been one of Severus' worst nightmares: Sirius Black.

The black dog had lunged for the Dark Lord, its bared fangs even more impressive in this phantom form, and the wizard had retreated, casting a useless spell at the shadow.

The Death Eaters, at first stunned, had finally drawn their wands and tried to stop the beast, just as unsuccessfully.

And while all eyes had been on the phantom dog, Severus had seen her.

Lily. Her pale, translucent form had come toward him, and smiled at him again, before stooping down beside him to place a hand on his shoulder.

Severus had abruptly regained the strength and will to stand up. When they were upright, face to face, she'd stared fixedly into Snape's dazed eyes, and her mouth formed a single word.

"Leave."

The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were too busy trying to master the ferocious apparition of the dog to even notice. Severus knew she was right, he had to flee then…like any other Death Eater who'd have the chance to escape his master's punishment. Quickly, and in cowardice.

But to leave Lily there?

Before he had the time to think about it, he felt himself Disapparating in spite of himself. He almost panicked; he didn't have the strength, not yet. But it was already too late, and gathering the last of his strength, he visualized the laboratory where he'd left his other master and the boy.

There, he'd be safe…the boy as well. Lily's son.

For her, it was already too late.

And now? What should he do about Harry, about Dumbledore and the trial, about Voldemort?

Would Lily come back? What did she want? Had Black really meant to save him?

He felt his body relax as the potions started to work.

A few moments longer, and his mental barriers would've fallen. Yes, Black and Lily had saved them all.

Tomorrow, he'd be able to think better. For now, he had to sleep, to rest before the boy took his turn to fall asleep and the alarms sounded to warn him that he was having another nightmare.

If only Harry could stay up all night….

ooooOOOOoooo

On the other side of the hallway, the teenager seated on his bed was almost of the same opinion as his professor.

Tomorrow, he had to present himself to the Ministry. Today, he'd managed to make Snape apoplectic, to very nearly provoke a disagreement between the professor and the Headmaster, and the aforementioned professor had then had to face Voldemort because of him.

Now, Snape was asleep in his room at an early hour, which wasn't like him, and was furious with him.

Harry didn't know what bothered him most in that list, but he'd rarely felt so vexed and disappointed. Why was it that everything he did invariably turned out wrong? Just as he was starting to like the Potions professor, he'd managed to get Snape's back up, even though, truly, he'd not tried to.

If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he'd feel unhappy because he'd disappointed Snape, he'd've rolled laughing on the floor.

Now, though, the idea wasn't funny at all. If only he'd been able to talk to him.... Tomorrow, before the hearing, he'd have some time. Snape had said he'd come if Harry wanted…and Harry wanted him to. He'd need him there if he had to see the Dursleys again.

Seeing Dumbledore and Snape together had all of a sudden made him realize how different the two men were.  He respected Dumbledore and knew perfectly well that the Headmaster wouldn't let anyone harm him.

But Snape…. He'd know what to tell Harry to do, by a gesture or a look, and Harry suspected that the professor would be even quicker to draw his wand than Dumbledore, if the occasion called for it.

Even if angry with him. Even if injured because of him.

Dejected, Harry went to the window. It was night now, and only moonlight lit up the park. From his window, he could see the little clearing where he'd trained that afternoon…calm…wait.

Harry squinted. He could've sworn he'd seen something move. A few seconds later, a movement caught his eye again; he was sure of it this time, something was moving beneath the trees! He took a step back, ready to awaken the Potions master; if the wards protecting the Manor had failed, they were both in danger!

But a second glance changed his mind. He recognized this shape that ran and jumped in the moonlight… a big black dog, soon followed by a stag, and the two of them played together in the clearing. Watching them more closely, Harry was sure he could see the trees through their shapes….

A moment later, they'd disappeared, and the weight in the boy's chest grew heavier. He was dreaming, wide-awake… If Sirius and his father had been alive, the hearing the next day would've been a formality.

He closed the curtains and turned toward his bed again. Without conviction, he took a Quidditch book from his trunk and began to leaf through it, his mind elsewhere.

Voldemort… Snape… Sirius… Lily and James… Snape….

Before he had the time to take the Dreamless Sleep potion that he'd intended to drink before bedtime, Harry finally fell asleep.

ooooOOOOoooo

Severus heard the magical alarm resonate in his head like a bell.

As he'd predicted, Harry'd neglected to take his potion. Bloody hell…. He quickly checked the time: it'd been five hours since he'd fallen asleep. An adequate night's sleep, all in all.

He sighed as he opened the door to his room. Even without the magical alarm, the boy's cries would've soon awakened him.

Soundlessly, he entered the room opposite his own, then went to sit on the edge of the bed. With a rapid charm, he made sure the teenager wouldn't awaken. Now wasn't the time for it….

He gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Everything's all right, Harry. Calm yourself. Everything's fine."

To his surprise, the boy calmed down right away. Without opening his eyes, he reached out to Severus and grabbed hold of his sleeve, his fingers clenched in the fabric.

"There. I'm here. You've nothing to fear…."

Smoothing a hand over the boy's tousled hair, Snape watched his features relax, little by little.

Yes, Harry trusted him. Much too much. On that account at least, the Dark Lord had been right.

But he didn't comfort the boy any less, still caressing his hair. What Harry didn't know couldn't hurt him…

ooooOOOOoooo

Harry awoke with the strange feeling of having slept well. It didn't make sense…when he's fallen asleep, he'd felt bitter and overwhelmed, and he knew perfectly well that he never slept soundly under those conditions.

He shook his head. Maybe the Manor was more comforting than Gryffindor Tower after all.

Even if that didn't explain how his book had found its way to his bedside table…

Gathering his thoughts, Harry felt a knot begin in his stomach.

The Ministry hearing…it was today.

He quickly checked the time, using a charm: it wasn't seven o'clock yet. He'd gone to bed early last evening. Might as well fix breakfast and put Snape in a good mood. The ban on leaving his room had only been for the evening before, after all.

But as he passed by the closed door to the professor's room, Harry was fairly certain of what he was going to find in the dining room. Breakfast was already ready, and Snape had left the room long ago.

So much for eating meals together, he thought. He had much less of an appetite now, and quickly ate what was on his plate.

Without waiting any longer, he headed nervously for the dungeon. The familiar sound of phials being moved about didn't reassure him, though. How would Snape be this morning? Recovered? Faithful to his role of tyrannical professor?

He knocked three times quickly, then waited for a response.

"Enter."

Enter. That wasn't good.

Harry reluctantly opened the door and stepped into the room.

Snape was indeed there, with his back to him, seeming much busier than usual with his potions.

"Professor…" the boy began.

Snape turned around, a suspicious look on his face. "Potter, are you ready?"

Caught off guard, Harry stammered, "I, yes, I suppose…so, for what?"

Snape let out a growl of contempt, so familiar to Harry "For your hearing, naturally; certainly not to go off on a dragon hunt!"

Harry nodded, unable to speak a word. His professor's tone of voice was undeniably one from the old days…one from the worst days.

"It really has to be today?" Harry finally asked.

"If Dumbledore wasn't able to change the date of this meeting, I doubt that even the Famous Harry Potter could do it, even with stacks of autographs. Now, go and pack your bags, then come down quickly. I'm going to alert Dumbledore that you're ready."

Harry felt his head spin. His bags?

"You…think I'll have to stay there long?"

"That's none of my affair. But I don't believe so," the professor replied dryly.

"But…why do I have to take my things, if that's the case?" Harry asked, with a quaver in his voice that he would've liked to have hidden.

"You're moving out, Potter. Relieved?" Snape sneered.

"No! No, I don't want…I'm fine here, Professor, please, do I really have to leave?"

"Certainly. I would've thought the idea would make you jump with joy."

The boy shook his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. No, none of this was right…it wasn't possible. Snape couldn't have changed his mind so quickly, over such a little thing…

"Professor, I'm really, really sorry for having listened to your conversation yesterday. I had no intention of eavesdropping, and I swear it won't happen again," he tried.

"That's for certain," the Potions master sneered once again. "You're not half as sorry as you think you are, Mister Potter. Be that as it may, Dumbledore will find you another refuge until the end of the summer, if that proves necessary. Now, go up and pack your bags and be back in ten minutes."

ooooOOOOoooo

Severus heard the boy's footsteps fade on the stairway. Uneven. Hesitant.

He sighed. Bloody hell, since when did he feel badly after having put Potter in his place?

Probably since Potter was no longer Potter. The look the boy had shot him had been positively disarming, and Severus had caught himself having to make an effort to not soften his voice or his words….

He had to no longer think of Shadow. He had to no longer think of the boy who had nightmares. He had to supply Harry with his best weapons to face what was waiting for him at the Ministry. He'd be disappointed, yes, certainly furious with his horrible tyrant of an obnoxious Potions professor, but at least his mind would be closed to Voldemort.

He had to firmly chase away the sentimental little voice that wouldn't stop telling him that Harry needed him.

And he had to especially set aside, for a few minutes more, the pain that the Death Eater Mark was causing in his arm.

The Dark Lord was calling him again, and he'd not be happy with Severus' delay. He was obviously excited enough as it was, if the burning in his forearm was anything to go by.

Of course, since he was thinking of abducting the boy this very morning….

Hopefully Dumbledore knew what he was doing….

Hopefully the old fool wouldn't make another mistake with the boy….

Moving quickly, he threw a fistful of Floo powder. "Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts!"

Without hesitation, he pushed his head into the flames. "He's ready, Albus."

The old many looked at him kindly. "I'm on my way, Severus. Everything will be fine, my boy."

Snape grumbled and pulled himself back into the dungeon.

A moment later, the Headmaster followed.

"He'll be here in a few minutes," the Potions professor said curtly.

"Severus… have you thought this over? Don't you wish to reconsider your position?" Dumbledore asked, almost pleading.

"No, Albus!" the professor almost spat. "That was all a mistake, a grave error since the beginning! I should've never agreed. The boy…no. I don't want to see him again. Take him, do what you will with him. I don't want him here ever again."

Sighing, the old wizard nodded. "I understand, Severus. I was just hoping that…."

"That's enough. Do what you have to do, Albus, and I'll do the same. You've no idea of the danger…no."

The Potions master's tone was sharp and decisive.

Deciding not to argue, Dumbledore seated himself in a leather armchair and waited, his pained expression lingering on the professor, who turned his back, busy with packing phials into the large leather sack.

nbsp;       ooooOOOOoooo

On the other side of the heavy wooden door, sat a cat, transfixed.

Once again, he'd not done it intentionally.

He'd transformed without wanting to do it, as he was getting his things together. His heart heavy, he was thinking of Snape, of those last days in the dungeon…and he'd become Shadow again. Worse, he'd not been able to resume his human form; as hard as he tried, thinking of Quidditch and his broom, all that he'd managed to see had been the spark of pride in Snape's eyes when he'd succeeded at his first transformation.

Despairing, he'd gone back down the stairs for help. And once again, the voices had made him stop….

A grave error since the beginning. I should've never agreed. I don't want to see him again. Do what you will with him.

Snape.

Snape hated him. He'd been right.

Like a sleepwalker, he went back up the steps and sprawled out on his trunk. It was all he had, just now. The room that had been his during these few days would be shut off to him forever. He wouldn't be coming back to the Manor. Snape would no longer be…what?

His Snape.

He closed his eyes. There was nothing dramatic about it. Snape was only a horrible professor with greasy hair, bad-tempered and cruel, and what'd happened this summer had only been a digression…a plan. Dumbledore, no matter what he might've said, had forced Snape to take him home, and it'd all ended in the spy being tortured and putting everyone in danger.

All right, he was going to leave, he had to. Maybe to the Burrow, with a bit of luck. He doubted it, though. That wasn't how things worked, after all. He wasn't going to risk putting the Weasleys in danger, or Remus, or whoever else was in the least bit concerned about him.

He barely heard the door open and the steps approaching. When he finally lifted his head, it was to see two bright blue eyes observing him with kindness and amusement from behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Well, Harry, do you have a problem?"

The cat meowed uncomfortably. A problem? Why not several hundred?

"Can I help you?" the Headmaster asked.

Another meow answered him.

"Animagus revelio."

In an instant, Harry was sitting on his trunk, a bit stunned.

"Are you ready to leave, my boy?"

Harry nodded, his throat constricted. Dragging his trunk, he went down the stairs again.

When he was finally to the dungeon, he hesitated for an instant. Snape seemed busy…he had promised….  He certainly wasn't going to change his mind now, that wasn't like him.

"Professor…are you coming with us?" he asked, his voice more begging than he would've liked.

"With you, Potter?"

"To the Ministry. You said you'd come if I wanted you to."

Snape gritted his teeth and shot him a glance, a mixture of contempt and irritation.

"Potter, you really do think you're the center of the world, don't you? Professor Dumbledore is already doing you the honor of accompanying you. Whether you believe it or not, there are wizards with occupations in life other than granting you an escort. You're going to the Ministry, not to Malfoy Manor. Pull yourself together," he ground out.

It was as if the last hope that Harry'd held onto had just suddenly crumbled away to nothing. A weight of lead dropped to his stomach, and he felt as if Snape had just struck him with a solid slap.

He tried to meet the professor's eyes, looking for what he'd read there recently, but the man had already turned his back to him.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and jumped; at his side, Dumbledore was looking at him, his expression kind and full of understanding. "Harry, it's time to go."

The boy turned one last time toward the Potions professor, who still had his back to him. His shoulders were strangely tense, it seemed to Harry….

Harry searched for something to say, something that would've softened the professor, even one last time…

He shrugged. Snape. Snap was Snape…so what?

Refusing to stay any longer in the dungeon where he'd felt at home for a time, Harry turned to Dumbledore and nodded.

He wouldn't say a word. His voice would shake, and he refused to give that to the professor.

The Headmaster seemed to understand, because the arm that circled around Harry's shoulders as they passed through the fireplace brought him more comfort than the trip warranted.

As they disappeared from the laboratory, Harry thought he saw in the Headmaster's eyes, which hadn't left the Potions master's back, a spark of regret and sadness that he'd never seen there before.

The arrival at the Ministry didn't make Harry as anxious as he'd thought it would.

Actually, the confrontation with the Dursleys almost didn't interest him now.

He'd never again be Shadow. After this hearing, he'd be taken somewhere, to another house, under the responsibility of someone else who'd he once again put in danger.

When he'd see Snape again, it'd be at Hogwarts, and he'd definitely be the Potions professor that he should've never ceased to be.

Oh, and he supposed his Potions mark would stay the same in the end…he could never be an Auror.

What was he complaining about? He'd deserved it, after all. He brought misfortune and death to people. Even to the Durslesys who didn't love him, even to Snape who hated him….

Harry, though, couldn't bring himself to hate him. If only he could keep the memory of those few days intact, when he'd been a cat, and welcomed….

Dumbledore pushed him gently with a hand.

Across from him, Fudge was speaking, but Harry didn't hear his words. Actually, he barely saw Fudge himself…but that didn't seem to bother him, and after a few moments, he and Dumbledore moved away.

The room seemed bathed in fog, and everything was fine. His eyes blurry, Harry was seized by a sudden urge to check what was behind the door that stood across from him. He was suddenly certain that someone was behind it, waiting for him….

Something…no, someone was telling him that it would be him. Yes, him…Sirius…or James…or Snape, his Snape, whom he'd prefer. Lily, even, if he wanted.

He moved forward as if in a dream. Yes, he was going to open the door, and he'd be on the other side of it, and everything would be over, all would be peaceful. Slowly, he turned the doorknob. He shouldn't make any noise, he shouldn't be noticed.

On the other side, they were waiting for him, and he'd never be in pain again, he'd never hurt anyone again. There'd be someone there…a family.

He went through the door and closed it softly behind him. Across from him stood a figure that he had trouble recognizing, through the fog in his mind.

He blinked and the figure came toward him.

A tall man with long blond hair.

The voice sniggered, giving a name to the figure: Malfoy

"That was too easy, Potter, much too easy."

Lucius Malfoy rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, and the crack that followed absorbed Harry's cry.

The door opened once again, a second too late.

At Malfoy Manor, a shout of triumph rang out when the two figures appeared in the middle of the sitting room.