It was hot and suffocating.  There was something in the air that made the night electric.  A storm?  No…maybe.  That light in the distance, he recognized it; that house, he'd seen it before.  But he wasn't the only one making for the door; ahead of him, a furtive shadow was already opening it.   A large black silhouette, two red gleaming eyes…  No! The room, there was still time, he wouldn't let him do it; from within, James Potter shouted for Lily to save Harry, and she was there with the baby, much too fragile and defenseless… No. Already the steps echoed in the stairwell, and he brandished his wand, standing between Lilly with the baby and the man who'd just appeared, his red eyes glittering like they always did when he came to kill.  When he was going to kill. No! But the scene froze, and a hand came to rest on his own, lowering his wand. He turned his head reluctantly, knowing in advance what he was going to see.  The dreams were always the same, after all. Lily, so pale, she who was so full of life, and so peaceful as well, even though she'd screamed just a moment ago. She smiled at him. "It's too late." No. He didn't want the dream to go on, not yet; he didn't want to see the smoking ruins again, Lily's lifeless body, on that night…and the stars sparkling as if the universe could still continue to exist. It was always too late… He was there, though, in the ruins again.  Not smoking, this time.  The ivy had grown through the walls, and the furniture had disappeared.  There was indeed a body, however, a teenaged body…and he was still alive.  No, he didn't look all that much like James, seen from here, not as much as he'd always thought. And he wasn't too late. Raising his wand, he turned around.  The red eyes stared at him, dissecting him.  And in his turn, Voldemort lifted his hand. "Protego!" shouted Severus, positioning himself above the boy's inanimate body. The black silhouette was thrown through the wall, and melted into the night with a cry of rage. But the eyes remained there, glowing red in the darkness of the house's ruins, and Death Eater masks surrounded them, empty and threatening. "Always too late," hissed the wind…or was it a voice? The masks began to rotate slowly around them. "Too late," they chanted, "much too late." "No," he replied calmly. "You will not have him." At these words, the pale faces became transparent, until they evaporated like steam.  The red eyes lingered for an instant, then they, too, disappeared. The ruins weren't really there now, and the high perimeter walls of the castle surrounded them.  Here, they feared nothing; they were under Dumbledore's protection.  And yet, he could still hear the wind hissing, and a pounding at the walls.  He lowered himself to better protect the body at his feet. "I have to go." Go?  Why?  Where? To protect him. "I have to go." So, he would go.

Dumbledore's face was just above his own, so close he could almost feel his breath.

Severus jerked backwards, fumbling for his wand, before realizing where he was.

"Severus, I'm sorry to have to waken you, but you have to go."

Yes, he'd understood that.  What time could it be?

"It's almost noon," Dumbledore answered his unspoken question. "I would've liked to let you rest much longer, Merlin knows you need it, but a delegation from the Ministry is due to arrive at any moment.  It wouldn't be wise for you to still be here."

Severus groaned and tried to get up, but a weight on his chest held him down.  With a glance, he identified it: Harry.  Had they fallen asleep this way?

"Harry hasn't awakened since you yourself fell asleep," continued the Headmaster."  "I've had some provisions prepared for you, and Poppy insisted on leaving you a supply of potions; she thinks they could be useful to you straight away.

"She did well," Snape admitted reluctantly.  His own supplies had been very diminished lately.

Moving the boy to the pillow, he quickly examined him. He was still pale and his breathing was worrisome, but at least he seemed to have stabilized.  He wouldn't have trouble transporting him, with the help of a few charms to keep him asleep.

There was still something indefinable that wasn't right about the teenager.  Thinking for a moment, Severus murmured a rapid incantation.

In response, Harry began to radiate a weak, pale yellow aura.

"Albus, come and see this."

"A problem, Severus?"

"It's Harry. His magic is weaker than it was when we returned yesterday.  The Dark Lord is continuing to steal his powers."

The Headmaster frowned.  "I'm fairly certain that Voldemort has entrenched himself just outside in the Forbidden Forest.  I don't know it that proximity is necessary; however, we've perhaps neglected a small detail: the connection that exists between their minds."

Severus pressed his lips together.  "We're leaving.  The further we are from that, the better.  Albus, keep me up to date, send us supplies.  I have what'll be needed to make potions on the spot.  If Harry needs something in particular, I'll let you know."

"No need for me to remind you how dangerous it would be for you to leave the Manor, Severus?  Your life is in as much danger as Harry's now."

The Potions master swept the argument away with a hand. 

"I doubt that even Voldemort would dare penetrate your hideout, Severus," Dumbledore said with a smile. "The rumors concerning the protective spells gracing the grounds are the stuff of first year students nightmares."

"Only those in Hufflepuff, I'm afraid.  That's never stopped certain Gryffindors," growled Severus.

Their eyes met, and it would've almost been easy to believe that the start of term was only a week away, and that it was just a matter of preparing for the students' return.

Almost.

Just beside them, Harry was restless in his sleep, and Severus leant over to place a hand on his forehead.  Without a word, Dumbledore handed him the bags of provisions and potions; the Potions master took them and bent down to lift up the boy.

Definitely much too easily….

Harry in his arms, he headed for the fireplace.  "Be careful, Albus  On top of it all, we don’t  want to see history repeat itself," said Severus, his voice full of hidden meaning.

"I'll be in touch as soon as possible," Dumbledore reassured him. "In the meantime, you've nothing better to do than to rest. Make good use of it; start of term is only a week away!"

Severus nodded, thinking that this week strongly chanced being the longest of his existence.  Between the Death Eaters and Harry…how was he going to react, once he was conscious again?  After what had happened to him the last time he'd been at the Manor, he shouldn't expect to find Harry very enthusiastic.

Not to mention his reaction to Albus.  There was something behind all of this that made him guess some difficult times lay ahead.

But one problem at a time.  He nodded to Dumbledore, who threw a handful of Floo powder for him, then stepped forward into the fireplace without hesitation.

"Snape Manor!"

It seemed the boy flinched when he heard the name; tightening his grip, Severus stepped out purposefully into the laboratory he'd left several days ago.

Unlike his rooms at Hogwarts, the dungeon didn't seem to have changed.  Not in the least.  Especially now that Harry was here….

And yet…

He quickly transfigured an armchair into a bed and laid the boy there.

So, here they were now.  The supplies would last for the next three days, and the potions shouldn't present a problem.

Rummaging in the sack that Poppy had stocked, he pulled out several bottles. Then, turning toward Harry, he ended the spells keeping the boy asleep.

"Harry?"  No response.  "Harry." He shook his shoulder slightly.

This time, his eyelids opened sluggishly.  He blinked his eyes, his expression dazed, before he noticed the Potions master at his side.  Frowning, he tried to gather his wits about him.

Snape.   That smell…the dungeon. Really?  Since when?

Hands helped him to sit up, and he didn't try to escape them. 

"Drink this," said the professor as he pressed a bottle to his lips.

He obeyed without thinking.

"Very good. Another."

Three bottles later, he felt the world become blurry again, and lost touch with reality.

It wasn't important.  In his dreams, he was in the same place, after all.

Severus watched the boy drop off to sleep again.  Better that he fully regain his strength before being faced with his memories.  On the other hand…Severus needed some time to think as well.  Things had never before been so complicated; whether he had to hide information or recite the depths of his thoughts aloud, the end result was clear, and the means as well.

Spying and irony held no secrets for him.

Psychology, on the other hand, was a different matter.

It wouldn't have presented a problem if he'd had to manipulate Potter, but he wanted something else.  He wanted the boy to understand.

Could he make a potion for that?

Perhaps. Most likely.  There was a potion for everything.  Except for the most important things, he thought bitterly.  Like preventing someone from dying, or having his powers stolen from him.

But for the moment, there were more urgent matters to attend to. He had to build up a new stock of healing potions.  He hesitated: should he take the boy up to his room?

He couldn't watch over him that way…and then, Harry had seemed to like the ambiance of the laboratory, he remembered with a slight smile.

Yes, the boy was perhaps repairable after all.

Pulling the coverlet back up to the boy's chin, he brushed the hair from his forehead.  Life truly was ironic, wasn't it?

All because he'd taken in a cat.

He didn't know how he was going to resolve this situation, and get Harry out of danger, but he was going to do it.

And right away.

As it usually was when Voldemort wasn't there to watch him, preparing potions relaxed him considerably, allowing him to think on the situation.

The healing potions were the most pressing, but he needed to quickly stabilize Potter's magic.  If it continued to drop despite their change of domicile…well, the situation would be serious.

He'd not wanted to think about it anymore while they'd been at Hogwarts, but

what would happen if the link between their minds truly allowed Voldemort to continue to draw on Harry's powers?

The answer was simple: short of killing him, he'd turn him into a simple Squib, and without magic, the boy would have no chance of fulfilling his destiny.

Severus felt his stomach knot.  That idea, when one came down to it, wasn't all that unpleasant.  Harry without power, without a prophecy, would be a Harry without the risk of getting himself killed from one moment to the next, wouldn't he?

He shook his head.  It was stupid and ill-advised.  And somewhat egotistical.

Lost in his thoughts, it took Severus several moments to realize there'd been a change in the boy's breathing.

He nearly jumped when he saw the two green eyes staring at him from beneath a frown.

Abandoning the bottle he was getting ready to fill, he went to Harry, who seemed even more agitated.

For an instant, the two of them stared at each other, the Potions master assuming his most neutral expression.

"This isn't real, is it?" the boy finally asked.

"On the contrary, all of this is very real, Mister Potter.  Welcome back to the land of the living," Snape replied calmly.

"It's got to be a dream," Harry murmured.

"I can assure you that you're wide awake.  Perhaps not in full possession of your faculties, however," said the professor.

"Sure, you'd say that even if you were a dream," the boy argued.

"That's highly likely, indeed.  Is there something I can do to convince you that you're awake, or will you be content with just drinking the potions you need."

"You're supposed to shout at me."

"Really?" asked Severus with a slight smile.

"And I don't have the right to be here anymore.  You never change your mind.  It's still a dream…  I'd really like to dream about something else.  I think.  For sure.  About the Burrow, for example…no, not right away, it's too noisy there, I have a headache…or Hogwarts, then.  No.  I don't know."

Harry sighed and covered his head with his arms.  "I don't know."

No, clearly he didn't know anymore, Severus thought.  And that was a large part of the problem.

"There'll be many things we will have to talk about when you're better, Mister Potter.  While we wait, just know that you're welcome here, and not only in your dreams. In fact, for the moment, it's even extremely inadvisable for you to leave the Manor.  As for changing my mind, that's one of the things we'll be discussing.  For now, rest, and try not to torture your mind with…whatever it is."

The boy moved an arm just enough to be able to look at his professor.  His eyes seemed to have difficulty focusing, giving him that uncertain expression he'd worn so often recently.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what, Mister Potter?" Severus replied.  There were certainly a huge number of 'whys' to which he was going to have to answer.

"I don't know."

Severus sighed. "Try to sit up and drink this," he said as he held out a potion.

With difficulty, the boy tried to come up on his elbows, before falling back heavily to the bed.

Wordlessly, Severus slid an arm behind Harry's shoulders and lifted him, then gave him the potion. 

Harry sighed. "What's this one for?"

"Nutritive potion.  I doubt you're in any shape to eat just now," the professor replied.

Harry drank the potion without a protest.  Then, looking at the Potions master again, he asked, "Why?"

Severus sighed. "Why what this time, Mister Potter.  This little game risks quickly becoming irksome for everyone, you realize."

Silence, then, "Why arm I here?"

"Ah, a pertinent question, I must say.  Primarily for your protection, Harry, and to allow you to recover from your injuries.  Does that answer your question?" Severus asked, not very hopefully.

"I’m not sure.  No, not really," said the boy.

"As eloquent as ever, I see.  Very well, elaborate on your question."

"I…I shouldn't…I know…" Harry stopped.

"What do you know, Harry?" Severus insisted gently.

"I know you don't want me here," Harry let out, frowning as he waited for the professor's answer.

"Potter…Harry, certain things are definitely not what they seem to be.  Recently, the situation has been particularly delicate, requiring more…acting on my part than I would've liked."

"I don’t' understand," Harry answered.

Which wasn't very surprising, Severus admitted to himself.

He swallowed visibly.  "I told you I regret what happened, and I did believe that.  My attitude toward you, although arising from good intentions, had been misguided and inappropriate, as the facts demonstrated," he said, hesitating over the dignity and degree of sincerity the statement required.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd so openly and sincerely made such an apology, and he didn't intend to repeat the experience for a very, very long time.

"I still don't understand," Harry said. Utter confusion was clear in his expression.  "I don't remember…or I thought that…oh."  He seemed to come to the answer on his own, evaluating the last of the information.

Severus waited patiently for the boy come out of his reverie and pay attention to him once again.  "I'm truly sorry for all that happened.  The circumstances surrounding your capture are actually to a great extent my responsibility.  Wanting to sever the link that allowed the Dark Lord access to your mind, I in fact reinforced it," he explained.

"Oh," Harry said.

Severus raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of it.

"I…I'm sorry," the boy took his turn to say.  "I'm not sure I understand.  No, in fact, I'm fairly certain that I don't understand.  But that's really not important, is it?" he finished in a breath.

"How so, Mister Potter?"

"You have the right to hate me, just like the others.  Like before.  Well, even more, I suppose." Harry sank back to the bed again.

"Precisely what others are you speaking of?" Severus asked.  At this rate, the enigmatic conversation could last for days without them getting anywhere….

"I don't know.  Everyone," Harry sighed, curling up on the bed as if to go to sleep.

"Might I know what gives you the impression that everyone hates you, Potter?" Severus persisted, raising his voice.  Out of the question for the boy to fall asleep with that on his mind….

But Harry didn't open his eyes again, content to snuggle a bit more into the coverlet.  "I just know it, that's all.  You too, in spite of what you say…what I think you're saying…doesn't matter."

"Potter," Severus said again, feeling his patience drain away.  "Harry. Having seen the reactions of both the Headmaster and Madam Pomfrey when you reappeared after your little adventure with the Death Eaters, I can assure you it's completely firm that these two people, at the least, do not hate you.  And I can assure you with an even greater certainty that I do not hate you either," he finished gently.

But Harry had already fallen asleep, his face contorted.

Severus sighed again.  His explanation had clearly not had the effect he'd hoped for.

When the boy began to struggle in his sleep, he decided that the potions had to wait.  If he were ever to see the day when he'd succeed in reassuring Harry, he was probably going to have to start with his subconscious.

Seating himself more comfortably on the bed, he pulled the teenager against him and began to stroke his hair to calm him.  After all, that worked well with Shadow.

Dumbledore had been right about his lack of sleep, because the Potions master awakened several hours later without remembering having fallen asleep.

Beside him, something was moving. Harry, obviously, fighting in his dreams.

"No…please…I didn't want that…."

That's for certain, Snape thought.

Severus shook him gently by the shoulder, saying, "Harry, wake up.  Potter. It's a dream."

The boy convulsed brusquely before freezing, his eyes once again unfocused.

He really was going to have to find him a pair of new glasses.

"Potter?  All right?"  No answer.  "Potter?"

"No."

But something in that 'no' made Severus think that it wasn't in answer to his question.

"Harry?" he tried.

"No."

Hmmm.  "Shadow?" murmured the Potions master.

The boy seemed to relax, pushing his forehead against Severus.

Oh, Merlin, Severus thought.  This really wasn't the way he'd planned on approaching things…no, it really wasn't.

Come to think of it, the strangest part of it yet was that the boy hadn't transformed into the cat.

Struck by a premonition, he cast a quick diagnostic charm.  The pale aura surrounding the boy made Severus turn pale as well: the level of Harry's magic had dropped again, leaving him a weak reserve.

He held back a wave of panic; he shouldn't worry Harry, but he had to do something…

"Harry?  Harry, wake up."

The boy groaned and moved slightly.

Effortlessly, Severus lifted him and propped him into a sitting position, his head lolling back an forth.  "I didn't want that.  Sorry," grumbled the teenager.

"You didn't want what, Potter?" Severus asked, at the same time casting a series of spells.

"To kill them. I'm sorry."

"Who, then, this time?" Snape couldn't help but ironically ask.

He regretted his words right away as he saw Harry withdraw into himself.

"Harry…" he sighed.  "You didn't kill anyone.  I don't know what's making you think the contrary, but no one in the vicinity has recently died, and certainly not because of you."

His first spells began to show their effects.  He'd not been mistaken, the boy was continuing to lose his powers, little by little.  He could distinctly make out the halo of light mist leaving his body, a bit at a time, especially more concentrated around the damnable scar which adorned the forehead of the Boy Who Couldn't Manage To Live Or Die.

As for stopping that flow….

"He knows it.  They all know it," Harry burst out abruptly.

Severus frowned. "You'll permit me to be the exception to that rule, Mister Potter.  Enlighten me."

The boy grimaced, but didn't answer.  So much for the academic approach, Severus realized.  "Harry, explain it to me.  Please," he added.  At the point where they now were, politeness was a lesser evil.

"I…my fault.  All dead.  Dumbledore said so.  I saw them," Harry finally said, his voice ragged.

He was once again huddled up, his head between his knees. Neither truly awake, nor truly asleep, Severus realized.

At all cost, he had to find a way to keep Voldemort from continuing to suck out the boy's powers; but in this state, Harry was quite simply an open door….

What could Dumbledore have wanted to say?  Most likely, nothing, but Harry thought otherwise…

"What did Dumbledore say, Harry?" Severus began again patiently, fighting against the urge to just simply use Legilimency on the boy.  In his current state, that probably wouldn't do much good…

"Disappointed.  All dead.  My fault.  Couldn't ask for forgiveness…no."

Shocked, Severus stared at the boy's contorted face.  What the devil was he talking about?  He'd not left Harry since they'd returned, and he was very certain that Dumbledore have never said such a….

Unless…

"Who's dead, Harry?" he asked softly.

"The Weasleys…Ron…Ginny…Hermione…Remus…everyone…."

"And when did Dumbledore tell you this?" Severus insisted, struck by a bad feeling.

"In his office.  With McGonagll.  Furious…he hit me."

And that would explain Harry's reaction to the Headmaster.  Severus was beginning to have a vague idea of what Lucius and Bellatrix could've thought up to torture the boy.

"Harry," Severus started slowly, "do you remember when you found yourself in the Headmaster's office again?"

"Afterward."

"After what, Harry?  After being taken by Lucius Malfoy?"

Harry nodded. 

"No, you must listen to me now; that never happened…Harry, listen to me.  After you left Hogwarts, you were at home first, at Privet Drive, then you came to Snape Manor. Do you remember that?" the professor patiently asked.

Again, a nod of Harry's head was his reply.

"You were at Grimmauld Place as well.  Then at the Ministry.  That's where Lucius kidnapped you."  He paused for a moment so the teenager could digest what he'd just told him.  "After that, you stayed at Malfoy Manor.  Two days. I met up with you again in the cemetery and we were able to escape.  We went back to Hogwarts, to the Headmaster's office."

Under the effect of these images, Harry tensed up all over again.  The office…Dumbledore….

"There were several people in that office, but you were unconscious, Harry.  Professor Dumbledore was there, as well as Madam Pomfrey and myself.  The Headmaster was very worried, we all were.   Poppy took care of you as best she could. I made you drink some potions, and we retired to my rooms in the dungeon.  Harry, at no time did Professor Dumbledore try to injure or accuse you. Minerva McGonagall wasn't there.  That scene you have in your head never happened," he finished.

But for all of that, the boy still hadn't calmed down.  Shielding his face with his hand, he struggled with an invisible enemy, fighting to stay conscious.

"It was true," Harry finally said after a short internal debate.

"No one died," Snape said calmly. "The Weasleys, Miss Granger, Remus Lupin and the other members of the Order are quite well.  You'll see them soon.  The last person around you to die, Harry, was Sirius Black.  Just before summer, at the Ministry.  Long before your kidnapping.  All that was just a macabre act to destabilize you."

The boy moaned softly, but he didn't relax. 

"You could see them soon, I promise you," said the professor.

"You're lying," Harry murmured.

Severus ground his teeth, but he couldn't be cross with him. "No, you can write to them as soon as you'd like, and you'll be seeing them very soon.  The term starts in just a week.  Everything is fine now," he said with all the reassurance he could muster.

"It's over…" Harry said.  "Never again…."

"No," Severus agreed, "no one will hurt you anymore.  You're safe."

"That's false," the boy said hoarsely. "No more magic.  No one.  It's over."

It was one of those rare times in his life when Severus felt helpless.  What was he supposed to do to reassure the boy, who was only half-conscious?  The urgency of the situation pressed him to act quickly, but he didn't want to stress him even more.

"Harry, whatever happens, I can promise to never leave you alone, and to protect you the best that I can.  But now, you have to trust me…listen to me, do you feel up to Occluding?"

The magic was continuing to escape the boy in spurts.  Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it quickly.

But Harry didn’t' seem to be listening to him anymore.  Captive to his nightmare, he shivered and sweated as if he had a fever.

If only he had some Animagus potion in his stocks.  Pomfrey hadn't thought of that.  Leaving the boy alone for a moment, he hurried for an empty cauldron and rapidly prepared the ingredients.  I would take hours for it to be ready, but he couldn't not try.  Quickly checking the other potions in progress, Severus went back to Harry, who seemed to be in a trance.

"Potter."  He took the boy by the shoulders and forced him to face him.  "Keep trying. This isn't the time to give up. You have to close your mind, now!"

At the sound of his voice, Harry opened his eyes and looked at him, confused and frightened.

"That right, look at me.  Don't let him steal your powers.  Focus, push him out!"

Harry seemed to experience a surge of willpower, but he probably didn't have enough energy: his head fell back to his chest and his breathing became raspy again.

Clenching his teeth, Severus took hold of him gently by the chin and forced him to look up. "Open your eyes.  There.  You have to help me, Harry. For now, become Shadow again; I know it's hard, but it's the only solution!"

The boy's eyes widened, a gleam of hope in the depths of them.

"Shadow," Severus repeated, in the voice he reserved for the cat.  "Be Shadow."

The boy stared at him, as if he were desperately looking for something in his face.

"Harry," Severus insisted, "transform now!  Remember, focus on the image that helps you change into the cat.  You do it so well!"

The teenager's hung his head limply into his hands.

"The cat…try, Harry…the armchair, the bowl, the fish, the fire…the towel, remember that day, the shower under the downspout, transform, Shadow, you must!"

But his pleading was in vain, and he knew it. Even if he'd been able, the boy's magical reserves were quite simply insufficient.

Summoning all of his energy, Severus concentrated on erecting the best wards he could around the boy, calling on white magic as much as on black, murmuring incantations learnt years ago.

All in vain.  Neither the potions he forced him to imbibe, nor the spells he wove around the boy, managed to stop the magical flow that continued to escape through his scar.

The boy's color paled at the same time as the magical aura around him.  He was barely struggling now, lost in the feverishness of a troubled sleep, while Severus became more and more agitated over him.

The sun was just about to set when the Animagus potion finally achieved its characteristic violet color.  Wasting not a moment, Severus filled a phial, then sat Harry up in the bed.  Voldemort couldn't access Harry's powers in his cat form; if Severus could keep him that way during the three crucial days, they would've saved….

Tipping the boy's head back, he poured the liquid down his throat, and waited anxiously.  The potion had only taken a few seconds to work the last time, but in his current state, it might take longer….

A minute passed by without any change.  Then another.  Severus felt his grip on the boy's shoulders tighten.

When five minutes had gone by without any transformation, the Potions master knew he'd failed.

It was too late.  The level of the boy's magical reserves were too low for the potions to have an effect.  A few hours earlier, perhaps….

Harry's skin was almost freezing to the touch.  The spurts of magic that Severus had made visible continued to escape, but now they were only the last vestiges of the boy's powers.  Before midnight, there'd be nothing left of them, and he couldn't do anything about it.

The sun set on the Manor, and Sevuers cast a tired glance at the dungeon window where he'd first noticed Shadow.  What he saw there made him freeze, and he couldn't help but stay close to Harry, in a vain attempt to protect him.

Outside, above the Manor, the Death Eater Mark glowed in the sky, brighter than ever.

He knew.  He was there, outside, as close as the wards allowed him…

One look at Harry was enough to calm Severus. Eyes wide open, the boy was staring at the same place in the sky, glassy-eyed.

He knew as well. Along with his strength, his magic was leaving him, and with them, probably, the last of his hope.  Severus didn't recall having seen such resignation in anyone's eyes before, and certainly not in a child of sixteen.

With a sigh, he went to sit on the bed, beside the boy. "I am sorry," he murmured for the second time since they'd returned.  "There's nothing I can do. He won't be able to enter here, but I can't stop him from taking your powers.  I've tried everything," he apologized.

Harry didn't look away from the window, but he moved slightly toward the professor, as if seeking comfort from him, without completely daring to.

Powerless, Severus did the only thing left for him to do.  Without looking away from the Dark Mark either, he wrapped the teenager in his arms, giving the only protection he could offer him.

Harry allowed him to do it, perhaps too weak to protest, Severus thought.

"I'm truly sorry," Severus murmured, stroking the boy's hair. "I didn't think we'd come to this point so quickly. He can't come close to the Manor, but that won't keep him from stealing your powers.  Whatever happens…I won't leave you.  With or without powers, we'll find a way, and it's not important.  That really isn't important, all right?"

A faint moan answered him, as the boy's head rolled against his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, so as to not see anything more.

"It's not important, child.  You don't need magic to be who you are.  You're going to get well.  Everything will be fine," Severus heard himself say, and part of him wondered how he was able to find the strength to speak such insipid words, and even more, to think them.

But he was tired.  Much too tired and drained.  The teenager he held against him like a little child, even more so than Severus was.

He was right.  All of this wasn't important. 

Laying a hand on the boy's forehead, he pressed him a bit more tightly against himself.  If the boy had to touch the depths of despair, he wouldn't be alone.

Harry trembled slightly, but he didn't push him away.  His eyelids firmly shut, he clung to his professor's robes with all his might.

In turn, Severus looked away from the Mark glowing in the sky, to the teenager.

Then he began to sing, soft and low, stopping to repeat phrases he wanted the boy to understand.  He wouldn't abandon him. He'd always be Harry Potter, even without magic, and no one would think less of him.  He'd always have a place at Hogwarts, and at the Manor, for as long as he liked.  No one had died, no one was cross with him. They'd find a way to work everything out.

And in the end, everything would be fine.

He didn't know if the boy would end up believing him, or if he could even hear him, but his own words served to calm him at least.

Because finally, he'd been persuaded to believe them.

Harry must've ended up falling asleep, because the hand firmly holding on to his robes had relaxed, and the boy's face appeared almost restful now.

Something had changed….

Severus felt his heart speed up.  He slightly spread his fingers, still pressed against the boy's forehead, taking care not to wake him.

It was indeed that.  The flow of magic had stopped…but even more surprising, he could see that a reserve of the boy's magical energy remained, very weak, of course, but still present.  The halo was almost imperceptible, but it was there…

And Harry seemed to have also regained his color.

Severus moved slightly to better see the boy, who opened his exhausted eyes.  "Shhh, Everything's fine," Severus said without removing his hand from Harry's forehead.

"It's nighttime…." the boy said softly.

"Yes, the sun won't be up for several hours."

"No, it will never come up again.  No more light," Harry said, laying his head down on the professor's chest again.

Sevuers held back a sigh. He'd already thought of that himself.  But not anymore.

For the first time in a long while, he had a real reason to fight.

Even if he had to go look for the bloody sun in China, it would come up.  Since Harry needed it to….

Desperate situations truly did call for desperate measures, he thought decidedly.  Things would probably seem different by the light of day...when it returned.

Whatever had happened, Harry was sleeping now, and the slight mist that embodied his powers was floating around his fingers, near the boy's scar.

It was no longer escaping, and it even seemed now that it was attaching itself to Harry's skin, as if to flow back in.

Perhaps all had not been in been in vain in the end.

After all, the best potions were never the simplest to prepare.