Snape stared down at the twisted World Cup ticket drowning in a dark puddle and recalled a phrase he'd heard since his youth. The promises of Slytherins, they'd said, are like snakes in your cellar.

Three weeks ago, he'd made a promise. Three weeks ago, that ticket had lain crisp and clean inside its envelope, propped against a brightly wrapped package on the kitchen table.

But the birthday boy only had eyes for the baseboard. He'd stopped abruptly when he'd entered the kitchen, and scuffed his trainers against the tiled floor. His eyes had flicked toward Snape, then around the kitchen--everywhere except toward the gifts on the table. "Did you need me to clear the table for breakfast?" he'd asked. "There's...er...some things on it."

And Snape understood. Harry was a boy who took risks. But even after yesterday afternoon in the garden, even after laying his soul bare…there were still some risks he couldn't quite manage. "The gifts are for you," he'd told him. "And Harry? You're safe. Safe as houses. I promise."

Harry had believed him. He'd believed it himself.

And three weeks later, that ticket was clutched tightly in Harry's hand as they walked toward the stadium for the Quidditch World Cup. Banners of every color snapped in the wind as the three of them joined the queue entering the stadium.

Lily detoured to say hello to a group of Bulgarians they'd met in the time leading up to the match. They had arrived weeks ahead of time, as was required of those with cheaper tickets. That was all Snape could manage to get.

Well, it wasn't all he could manage. Snape frowned as he remembered Lucius Malfoy's offers to give them box seats. No, not just offers. Insistence that his family join the Malfoys in the box seats.

It had been a year after Voldemort's attack on the Potters that Severus had seen Lucius Malfoy again. They'd spotted each other amidst the bustle of Diagon Alley. Lucius had several elves in tow, carrying his packages. Snape carried his own packages, along with a dark-haired toddler tightly fisting his robes.

Two grown men, and yet, Snape felt the urge to crane his neck upward, as he had when he'd been eleven and first met the blond boy. The tall, older boy who had promised to watch over him.

Snape had been determined to impress the boy with intelligence, skill, cunning. To prove himself worthy of the name Slytherin. It became his habit to boast of a new accomplishment each time he met Lucius.

Standing in the street of Diagon Alley, he knew he could not trust the man. He knew they were no longer on the same side. He knew his loyalty now lay with Dumbledore, and Lily, and Harry.

But some habits are hard to break.

Before Malfoy could offer one sneer over his choice of wife and son, Snape was spinning out words. Nothing direct--never so blunt as that. Bland comments. Implications. That he was now the keeper of the boy who had destroyed the Dark Lord. That anyone who held that place would find power and influence.

And finally, he'd seen what he'd always longed to see in those stony eyes: Envy. Respect.

He'd later told Dumbledore--and himself--that it would cement his place within the inner circle of former Death Eaters. It had taken years of greedy looks over the boy before he had realized that he'd made a mistake. But by then, all he could do was refuse the increasing amounts of galleons and insidious comments Lucius offered him. Such a troublesome thing. I could take him off your hands. It's not as if that mother of his will miss him. I promise I'll watch over him.

The promises of Slytherins...

Harry grunted when he saw the long queue leading into the Quidditch World Cup stadium. "Can't we just apparate in?"

Snape shook his head as he watched an owl soaring low over the heads of the people milling outside. "Apparating is banned in the stadium. No need to buy tickets if we could apparate in."

"Oh, right." Harry scuffed at a tuft of grass in the dirt and looked impatiently at the man in front of him, as if he were personally responsible for the slowness of the queue.

"In any case, I wish to give this to you before we enter," said Snape. He removed what looked like a small sphere of black fabric from his pocket. As he held it in his hand, it slowly transformed into a flesh-colored ball.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"Salvus," said Snape. "A potion I created."

"Potion? Looks more like a charmed object."

"It's brewed until it thickens. And it is ingested." He handed the sphere to Harry.

Harry held it between thumb and forefinger, examining it. After a minute, the ball turned slightly pinker to match Harry's skin. "It'll make me…camouflaged?"

"No, that's merely a property I included to make it harder to detect. A problem with potions is they lack the element of surprise. One's enemies tend to see one drinking down vials."

"Great," said Harry, watching as the sphere as it took on the appearance of his fingertip, complete with a translucent nail. "Now I can look like an inconspicuous cannibal who's nibbling on a bit of his own flesh."

Snape ignored the jibe. "It's true purpose is to be another type of portkey."

"Oh, like that thing that brought us here?" Harry pressed the pink object between his forefinger and thumb. "Where would it take me?"

"The idea was for it to transport the user back to his home."

Harry looked sharply at him. "Home?"

"Our home," Snape clarified. "I like to think of myself as an accomplished brewer, but I'm not capable of brewing something that will transport you across worlds."

Harry's shoulder's relaxed and he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Oh, that's all right," he said, smiling. "So if I spot any trouble, I just swallow this, and I'll be back at Spinner's End?"

"Ah. There have been some problems in development. In its current stage, it only transports the user about 100 meters from his current location."

"There's lots of times I've wished I was about 100 meters away." He tilted his head up at Snape. "You said problems, plural. There's something else?"

Snape shifted his gaze to the owl gliding on air currents above the milling witches and wizards. "I see you were paying attention when we discussed picking up subtle verbal cues. Picking up such cues is often seen—"

"—as a sign of intelligence by Slytherins. Yeah, you mentioned. You also mentioned something about Slytherins using compliments to sidetrack someone from getting the information they want. So, there was another problem with the Salvus?"

His gaze settled back on the boy. He couldn't help but be pleased, although he was reluctant to answer Harry's question. "The Salvus only transports the organic matter of the individual."

"Organic matter? You mean…" Harry made a face. "I'd get transported with no clothes?"

"I'm working on it."

Harry handed the Salvus back to him. "Keep working."

Severus snorted, but put the Salvus back in his pocket. "A little embarrassment—"

"A little!"

"—is a small price to pay for your safety."

"I have an idea. How about you take it, and when everyone's distracted staring at your bits, I'll make a run for it."

"I won't allow you to—" Snape began, but he was interrupted by the owl overhead swooping down, neatly dropping a package in his hands. Lupin's address was neatly printed in small lettering on the front.

He carefully folded back the brown paper and held up a small vial. The thick blood inside the glass glowed amber in the sunlight.

"Checking Lupin for…moon cycle irregularities?" Harry asked, eyeing the vial as they moved toward the front gate.

Snape cast protective and preservative charms on the vial, avoiding Harry's eyes. "It is what I require of him if he still wishes to visit. Any change in his moon cycle could be dangerous."

"Uh huh." A pause. "I think I'm picking up some parts of Restituomens. The preparation before brewing, anyway."

"Good," said Snape, his voice noncommittal.

"While I was studying, I noticed that one of the ingredients for that potion is werewolf's blood."

"Is it?" said Snape, feigning surprise.

Harry turned and gazed at Snape. "Anything you'd like to tell me?"

Snape turned the vial over in his hands before pocketing it in his robes. "I…may not check it for moon cycle irregularities."

"You don't say."

"Do not arch your eyebrow at me," said Snape as they entered the stadium. "Lupin would be happy to know his blood is used for a good cause."

"He would be happy to know that. Why don't you tell him that it's for Mum?"

Snape frowned. "Then he would be doing me a favor."

"That's a bad thing?"

"I would owe him."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "He wouldn't see it as…he'd love to help…" He grunted and tugged at his hair. "He hates submitting a blood sample like a criminal. You know that, right?"

"I require the ingredient. And he is helping Lily, whether he knows it or not." Snape brushed at his robes absently as he felt a smile flicker across his features. "His embarrassment is simply a side benefit."

Harry shook his head. "You're the one who needs a potion. For a terminal case of nastiness."

"I'll shall endeavor to live up to your shining example. By the way, if I ever needed Draco Malfoy's blood for a potion…?"

"How much blood?" muttered Harry before he caught himself.

Snape smirked at him.

Harry grumbled as he pulled a creased copy of the Restituomens instructions out of his back pocket. "Fine. Maybe it just runs in the family," he conceded, bending his head over the scribbled lines.

Snape's breath halted, but Harry seemed unaware that his words had any impact.

They had never spoken of that moment in the garden on that scorching summer day, and he could not think of anything momentous that had happened between them in the weeks after. But something had shifted. Snape reached out and rested his hand on top of Harry's head, smoothing down the disheveled hair as he'd done so many times with his own son. Harry, his shoulders hunched as he memorized a section of the potion, relaxed slightly at the touch.

Lily rejoined them at their seats with an armload of pastries. "Banitsa!" she said, handing them both several of the paper-wrapped treats. "They're giving away free ones in some big spectacle at half-time," she gestured toward a large gate near the snack stand, with cavernous pipe protruding from it. "but I thought you'd like some now."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"It's the traditional Bulgarian pastry!" Lily insisted. "Harry told me he wanted to try a traditional Bulgarian dish."

"Did he?" Snape said. Lily's new Bulgarian friends were excellent bakers, and Harry had "tried" Banitsa about twelve times since they'd arrived.

Harry hunched down in his seat as he munched. "It's tradition," he mumbled. "For...good luck, and...things."

"Yes, you're adamant about supporting Bulgaria every time you get hungry," said Snape. He nodded toward Harry's rosette which glowed green in support of Ireland.

"I haven't completely decided. I have Irish friends...but there's reasons to support both teams. Bulgaria has a lot of...er..."

"...traditions," finished Snape.

Harry ate his Banitsa in silence. Flaky crumbs fell to the floor, and Snape started when he saw a lime-colored mouse snatch it and scamper away.

Lily grimaced. "Petrof was telling me about it when he gave me the pastries. Wizarding Mice. They keep the place free of litter."

"A few cleaning spells would have the same effect," Snape grumbled.

"Rumor is that Ludo Bagman thought this would be more festive."

"Bit too festive," said Harry, who had to shoo away a pink-furred mouse that was running up and down his robes. "This one wants to play with me instead of work." He made another shooing motion, and the creature finally ran off.

"At least they're staying away from me," said Snape.

"They probably figure you'd conjure mousetraps," said Lily.

Snape merely smiled.

"Shame we don't have drinks to go with these," said Lily, munching on her pastry. Or something more filling. Like a meat pie. Or a cheese pie. Or--"

"Yes, all right," said Severus, standing up. "I take it a visit to the food vendors is in order."

"I'll help," said Harry, brushing crumbs off his robes. The brightly colored mice danced around his feet.

"You'll miss the opening ceremony--"

"I don't mind. You'll need help carrying all that."

Snape was about to give him a lecture on levitation charms when he noticed that Harry was studying the floor again. Perhaps it was the mice.

He kept his lecture to himself stepped into the aisle, gesturing for Harry to follow.

Harry nudged Snape's arm when they reached the vendor area. "I'll get the drinks, you get the pies."

Snape reached into his pocket. "Take this with you."

Harry held his hands out in protest. "I'm not taking the Starkers."

"It's not called a Starkers, it's called a Salvus. I just have a few kinks to work out--"

"Kinks is right."

"Quiet, or I'll put one in your Banitsa."

"Look, I'll be right over there, S-- er, Mister...Professor Snape." Harry winced.

Snape sobered immediately. Professor. It was too formal. Severus would make them both uncomfortable.

The other was too much to ask.

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry gestured to a line a few meters away. "You'll see me the whole time."

Snape nodded, and Harry joined the queue for fizzy drinks and butterbeers.

"Did I hear the boy right? Professor Snape?" a voice in a slight Bulgarian accent called out.

Snape turned to see a tall, heavyset man in chocolate-colored robes step up to him. He nodded assent, warily.

The man showed no such reservation. He grabbed Snape's hand and pumped it eagerly. "I've been looking for you all week! I was hoping we could talk a bit more about our favorite subject, yes?"

Snape pulled his hand away. "I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure…?"

"Not of a true meeting, no," the man's laugh echoed out of his great barrel chest. "But I've gotten ahead of myself. Nikolai Radomir, at your service."

Snape felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Professor Radomir. It is indeed my pleasure." Nikolai Radomir was known for his research into other worlds, and he and Snape had corresponded regularly over the summer.

"You had mentioned the World Cup, and I had hoped we would find time to talk…"

After a few minutes of talk about the upcoming match, Snape steered the conversation toward their research. "Your last message mentioned a possible new lead," said Snape, his heart pressing against his chest. "A pathway?"

"Some promising new discoveries on the connection between worlds. Protection is a common theme. The literature speaks of a guide from within…" he trailed off as his eyes lowered to something behind Snape. "Ah. Is this a student of yours?"

Snape turned to see Harry, carrying an armful of drinks. His fingertips were white as they pressed into the cups.

"Not precisely," said Snape. "This is my son—"

"I’m just Harry," said the boy, the ice in the drinks banging against each other as he stepped forward. "So," he said, the word small and hard, "having a good chat?"

"Harry," said Snape in a low tone.

The boy ignored him. "You know about other worlds, then?"

"Oh yes," beamed Radomir. "It's my specialty. Are you studying the subject with your father?"

"I'm nowhere near as interested as he is," said Harry, jerking his head sharply toward Snape. "He's riveted by the subject. I could jump headfirst off the top bleacher and he wouldn't tear himself away."

Snape tilted his head politely toward Radomir. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion at a later time," he told the man. He laid his hand on Harry's head.

Harry shook the hand off and stalked away.

Radomir handed Snape his new Owl address, nodding his understanding. "Difficult age, this."

Snape caught up with Harry as he was stumbling up the stairs toward his seat. The drinks he held were sloshing over the rims of the cups and spilling onto the carpeted stairs. Wizarding Mice darted out to lap it up.

"Your behavior was inexcusable," Snape hissed at him.

"Then I won't excuse myself," said Harry. "What does it matter, anyway?" He stopped for a moment and gulped in a deep breath. "You'll soon be rid of me and my inexcusable behavior."

"If we had found a way back, I would have told you," said Snape. "It's unclear how long such a discovery may take."

Harry grunted as he worked his way to his seat. People sitting in the row yelped as soda and butterbeer spilled on their laps. "So I'm, what? A hobby? Something to keep your parenting skills fresh?"

"You're nothing of the sort--" Snape stopped as he heard his name called. Lily was looking up at him, happy. And surprised. A new memory cycle had started since they'd left.

She tilted her head and looked at Harry. Blankly.

"I need to get out of here," muttered Harry. He turned around and pushed against Severus, backing them both out of the row. Spectators sniped at them as ice joined the puddles of drinks on their laps.

Snape stopped him once they reached the aisle, planting a hand firmly on his chest.

Harry stared up at him, thin lines standing out between his eyes. "I want to be alone."

"I will not allow you to be alone here. I need to keep you safe--"

"Don't say that word to me," said Harry.

Lily had followed them out into the aisle. "What's going on?"

"Harry is--"

"Harry!" said Lily, recognition flashing in her eyes.

A high-pitched groan escaped the Harry's throat. He tried to slip around the two of them, but Snape curled his fingers firmly around the boy's upper arm.

"Ergh," said Lily. "Look what's coming our way."

Snape glanced up and saw Lucius Malfoy gliding his way down to them, looking like he'd rather not be touched by anyone who had the temerity to sit in the cheap seat section.

"Be civil," he hissed. "We have an alliance with Malfoy."

Harry and Lily greeted his announcement with baleful looks.

"Now is not the time to debate it," he said. Gryffindors would never understand.

"Severus," Lucius said formally, looking entirely comfortable in his velvet robes despite the late summer heat. "I expected your family to call on us. "I'm sure you can see our box seats from here. With your omnioculars, perhaps."

"Why would we want to look at you lot?" said Harry.

Snape moved his hand to lay on Harry's shoulder. Lucius frowned at the boy. "More discipline is in order, Severus," he said.

"Reasonable advice," said Snape dispassionately. He felt Harry tense, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Lucius studied the restraining hand before his glacial eyes landed on Lily. "Ah, yes. The…wife."

"Malfoy," Lily's voice dripped distaste.

Lucius raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Yes, that's right, dear," he said in his slowest voice.

Snape took his hand from Harry's shoulder and fingered the wand beneath his sleeve.

"Be careful how high you set yourself above others," Lily said to Malfoy. "You might find that someone will kick that pedestal out from under you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Malfoy. "But then I'd expect you to be rather…muddleheaded."

Malfoy laid the barest emphasis on mud.

With a murderous look, Harry launched himself at Malfoy.

But Malfoy was faster than the boy. He sidestepped the attack and grabbed a fistful of dark hair, pulling Harry against him. "Such manners," he said, making tutting noises. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask the boy to leave." A few spectators turned in their seats at the disturbance. Malfoy let go of the boy's hair, although his grip around his body remained firm. He nodded his head at someone in the distance.

Snape's heart was pounding in his ears, but he kept his face blank and his eyes searching. At last, he spotted two massive bulks in robes a few aisles down, headed their way. The senior Crabbe and Goyle. Some things never change, even down the generations.

"Let go of my son," growled Lily. She stepped forward, wand gripped tightly.

This was quickly escalating towards a battle, and he didn’t like the odds. Severus lay a hand on the crook of Lily's elbow and focused his attention on Malfoy. "It's not like you to resort to manhandling," he said, keeping his voice low and even. "There are new kidnapping security spells in use. They won't allow you to forcibly drag a child out of the stadium."

"Oh, that won't be necessary. Once I offered a few…unofficial contributions, the staff was quite helpful in describing the security at the stadium--and its loopholes."

At that, Malfoy slammed a hand into Harry's chest.

Snape and Lily jerked their wands up instinctively, but Harry stayed on his feet, staggering slightly at the impact.

When Malfoy pulled his palm away, however, Snape saw that a rosette supporting Bulgaria had been planted squarely in the middle of Harry's chest. It burrowed into the robes, as Harry pulled an arm free to yank at it. He gave out a cry of pain at the first tug and looked up desperately. "It won't let go."

"Yes," drawled Malfoy. "Certain rosettes were designed to be portkeys, to transport the winners to first-row seats when Bulgaria scores. However, this port key's destination has been...altered, slightly."

Snape had no doubt that Malfoy had a gilded cage ready and waiting for his prize. And they were only seconds away from the start of play on the Pitch. There wasn't much time before Bulgaria scored and Harry was stolen away. Pulling Lily out of the line of fire, Snape slashed out with his wand.

Malfoy was too fast for him. He threw a shield up and deflected the stunning hex. But Lily was ready for a fight. Her wand was a blur in the air, striking out with curses that weakened the shield.

With a growl, Malfoy retreated to steps leading higher into the stadium, dragging Harry along with him. A man wearing a pointed, flashing "support Ireland" hat stood up, his eyes flicking between the four of them as if he was unsure if he should get involved. But at that moment, trumpets announced the start of play, and the aisle filled with people rushing to get to their seats. The man was bowled over, and Malfoy was lost in the throng.

Lily dove headlong through the crowd, and Snape followed on her heels.

Snape scanned the area for Harry and Malfoy. He spotted Malfoy at the top of a stairwell leading to an exit, struggling with Harry. Harry had pinned Malfoy's wand arm against the metal banister. The wand dangled uselessly from his hand, but Malfoy had his other hand on Harry's wrist and was yanking viciously. Harry had thrown his weight against Malfoy's arm, but Malfoy was a large man and Harry was quickly losing the tug of war.

"Hex?" questioned Snape.

"Charm," said Lily, flicking her wand.

A long metal strut pulled itself away from the wall of the stairwell with a squealing noise and formed into a flat metal hand. The hand struck Malfoy on each side of his face with two resounding thwacks.

Malfoy howled and stumbled back.

The crowd around them had become enthralled by the game. There was a deafening cheer from the crowd. Snape's heart leapt in his chest. He turned quickly to scan the scoreboard.

Ireland had scored, not Bulgaria. The portkey in the rosette hadn't activated…yet...

Harry dived down an aisle stretching towards the field. Snape and Lily both headed towards him, but a blast of ice from Malfoy's wand froze their robes to the steps. Lily cast a heating charm while the spectators around them cheered on, oblivious to the icicles hanging from their beards.

They split up, Snape moving toward Malfoy. Lily ducked around a cluster of metal supports, heading towards Goyle, and he lost sight of her.

He still had the Salvus, he realized. Snape fumbled in his pocket as he ran, pulling out what looked like a ball of black lint. After a few moments, it transformed, its oblong shape turning flesh-colored. He turned a corner, searching for Harry. If Harry swallowed it, it should transport him without the portkey. A little embarrassment was a small price to pay to avoid lifelong imprisonment.

He turned another corner, and saw Harry at the top of a landing. Malfoy was there with him, trying to stun him. But years of Quidditch had paid off, and Harry twisted and turned, using his small size to prevent Malfoy from grabbing onto him and getting a clear shot.

Snape hurried toward them, but his way was blocked by Crabbe. The man was like an immobile mound of earth—and so were his blocking spells. Snape conjured bricks and lobbed them at the immense bulk of flesh. One got through the shield, and struck Crabbe directly on the forehead. The man blinked. It had no other apparent effect.

In desperation, Snape called up to Harry and threw the Salvus towards him.

His aim was terrible, the Salvus flying several feet over Harry's head. But Harry wasn't a Seeker for nothing. He climbed on the stair railing, balancing, and caught the Salvus in one hand while pressing his other hand against the wall for support. Harry frowned at the Salvus for a moment. Snape was ready to shout several choice words at him if teenage embarrassment prevented him from taking it. But Harry brought the hand to his mouth.

Malfoy took that moment to slash at him with another hex. A series of darts emerged from the man's wand and arced toward the boy.

Harry ducked, throwing himself against the man walking past him on the landing, who had just opened a bag of Bertie Botts beans. One dart landed directly on the man's neck, and he immediately passed out, rolling a few yards on the carpet. Beans went flying down the stairs.

Crabbe was watching the spectacle, his mouth hanging open, his eyes following a neon pink bean as it bounded down the steps.

Snape took advantage of his distraction and tackled him with a stunning spell. Crabbe sagged, his jaw going even slacker. Falling with a whump against several standing spectators, he slid slowly to the floor. Snape searched the stairs for the Salvus, but didn't see it. Then he realized he wouldn't. It had hit the sack of beans as it flew out of Harry's hand. So it would look like…

Snape groaned and grabbed the neon pink bean. He waited a few moments for it to transform, but it did not. Just to be sure, he took a nibble. It tasted of sand and rubber. Ergh. Beach ball flavored. He ran up the steps, ducking Malfoy's curses, which were now directed at him, and snatching beans as he saw them.

Harry was scrambling down the stairs, doing the same. He made faces as he threw each bean into his mouth. He looked surprised as he chomped down on a brown and yellow one resting on the step above Severus.

"Salvus?" asked Snape breathlessly.

Harry shook his head. "Broom flavored. Not bad, though."

Snape spotted a lone bean in the aisle. Its color was changing, turning from a dark brown to a purple that matched the color of the carpeting. "There," he said.

A mouse with baby-blue fur spotted the bean and raced after it, its beady eyes shining brightly.

"Wizarding Mice," grumbled Snape, and he and Harry stumbled after it. They ended up between the hot dog stand and the meat pie vendors in the snack area. The mouse had the bean between his paws and was about to nibble it.

Harry snatched the mouse's tail and pinched. The mouse gave a squeak and dropped the bean indignantly.

Harry made one last scramble forward and grabbed the Salvus. It changed colors, swirling into a flesh-colored hue again. He held it up triumphantly.

A flashing light caught the corner of Snape's eye. He turned to see the scoreboard blinking around scrolled words:

"Free meat pies for the next 15 minutes, courtesy of Sal's Meat Pie Emporium!"

"Harry..." he began, but he was cut off when a horde of wizards and witches swamped the area, stampeding toward the snack stands. Harry was lost in the swarm.

Snape held his position and looked for Harry. He heard a shout, and saw Harry standing in an archway that faced the Pitch. On the other side of Harry was the opening of the massive pipe. The side of the pipe read, "Free Banitsas! Compliments of Petrovich's Bakery."

"I got the Salvus!" shouted Harry. He held up a small object, now flesh-colored.

"Take it!" shouted Snape. The further away Harry was from this, the better.

"But I'm near the exit!" said Harry. "I can just…" he stopped and frowned as a loud rumble came from the pipe near him. He frowned, peering into the cavernous opening.

Crabbe was recovering and scrabbling for his wand, which was lying near them. Severus kicked it down the stairs and ran toward Harry. "Get away from there!" he shouted at the boy.

Harry leaned toward him, frowning. "What? I can't—"

Snape had just reached the top landing when a deep roar emanated from the interior of the pipe. Snape turned towards the pipe mouth to see an ocean of creamy yellow liquid rolling towards them.

"Run—" said Snape, and then a mass of milk and flour hit them both.

Snape had always wondered what flying without a broom would be like. He had never imagined this. All he could see was pale yellow, and he could barely feel Harry through the sticky mess. At least they seemed to be landing gently. A levitation charm built into the batter? He wiped his eyes when his feet touched ground near the sidelines of the Quidditch pitch, and saw Lily running towards them, her wand out.

"Goyle's down," she shouted, a smile tugging at her face. "Now let's find a way out of this stadium," she gasped, "before someone else blows their nose with you."

Snape slopped after Lily with Harry, swiping his hand at his robes. He ended up with a handful of goo, long strings of it dribbling between his fingers. He didn't see what was funny about it. "A cleaning spell wouldn't be amiss," he grumbled.

"Won't need one," said Lily. "Look."

Snape looked behind him, and saw thousands of pale yellow squares falling into the stands. People were standing up and grabbing them, then stuffing them into their mouths. Snape felt a tingling, and then, with a series of pops, the yellow mixture transformed into more of the squares and tumbled to the floor. Harry caught one as they headed for a lower-level exit.

Snape sighed. "Banitsa. Traditional…"

"…Bulgarian pastry. Right." Harry frowned. "I think I've been cured of my addiction."

"Slight problem," said Lily. She pointed towards the nearest exit.

Snape turned to see Malfoy and his cohorts slipping through the rows of spectators. Malfoy had never been one to give up prey once he had it in his sights. Snape closed his hand around Harry's robes and tugged him toward the sidelines of the Pitch.

A short break in play had been called when the Banitsa had gone flying through the air. The three of them moved past the resting Irish players and lounging leprechauns, Snape hoping security wouldn't notice them. Harry was still struggling with the rosette attached to his chest. He grimaced with each tug, as the rosette was grafted into the skin. Snape stilled Harry with a touch and a shake of the head. "There's a less painful way. You still have the Key?" Harry held it up and Snape nodded. "If you swallow that--"

"I'm not appearing a hundred meters from here starkers!" exclaimed Harry.

"It's better than appearing inside the dungeons at Malfoy Manor," hissed Snape. A referee was headed toward them, no doubt to order them off the sidelines. The Irish team was hovering on their brooms nearby, waiting to get back into play, and munching on the pastries. "Take it--"

He was interrupted by players on every side of them collapsing to the ground in a chorus of snores.

Snape spun to face the source of the spell, pushing Harry behind him.

Malfoy was pushing through leaning, drowsing bodies as he strode toward them. A trumpet chorus rang out, announcing the resumption of play. Apparently no one had told those in charge that half the Irish team was now asleep. A man near him lay in mid-air, snoring as he slumped over his broom.

Malfoy had stopped at the trumpet call and raised his wand with a gleam in his eye. Several flicks, and the snoozing Irish team was up in the air, heading for the goalposts. The referee was screaming at them to stop, frowning as one player zoomed past him, drool seeping down his chin. The Bulgarian team scrambled after them.

Harry was struck from behind by a low-flying broom and stumbled, dropping the Salvus in the grass. He cursed and dropped to his knees, searching for it. Snape's chest tightened, the writing on the wall. It wouldn't take much for Bulgaria to score against a sleeping team.

What would a Gryffindor do? Snape took a deep breath and grabbed at one of the sleeping players flying low to the ground. The player tumbled off into the soft grass, and the broom yanked Snape off his feet.

This was not his ideal method of travel—certainly not with him dangling by his hands as the broom careened around the pitch. The whistle of the referee was sharp in his ears.

"Time out," he called out feebly. He doubted that he would be mistaken for a member of the Irish team, but hoped the sight of a man dangling off a broom was enough to halt play. Unfortunately, Malfoy had stunned the referee and the game was continuing.

He glanced toward Malfoy, who had resorted to his earlier ploy of brute force and was dragging Harry off the pitch, fending off Lily's hexes. Harry was digging at the rosette with his fingers, wincing as he pried it loose from his top layer of skin underneath the robes.

Snape yanked at the broom handle, aiming it toward Harry and Malfoy. Gritting his teeth as he approached them, he let go with one hand and reached down to grab Harry.

He missed.

Time moved slowly as he watched himself head straight for Malfoy. Malfoy turned as if moving in molasses, his eyes widening as he saw Snape hurtling toward him at the ungodly speed of a Firebolt. He managed to throw one arm up.

This, thought Snape, is why he never played Quidditch.

With a thwack to his chest, a mass of velvet and hair and arms came at him from all sides. He felt as though he was being attacked by a baboon with a set of drapery.

Malfoy was not attacking, though, but trying to untangle himself from the position he found himself in: on the ground with Snape pinning him down. He shoved Snape aside and stood towering over him. He opened his mouth to deliver a curse.

Harry threw something--the Salvus. Snape watched as the whirling little ball arced over him and deep into Malfoy's mouth. With a gurgling, choking noise, Malfoy swallowed. Then promptly disappeared, the perfectly tailored—and now empty--velvet robes spilling to the ground.

There was a shout from the pitch. Snape took his time turning his head. He wanted to savor this.

Malfoy was standing in the middle of the pitch, the wind flapping his hair--among other things. With a sound that sounded like a high-pitched "eep," Malfoy clapped his hands between his legs and ran, hunch-backed, off the field.

Lily pulled out her omnioculars and held them to her eyes. "Unimpressive," she decreed.

Snape snatched them out of her hands.

Lily shrugged innocently.

A pink Wizarding Mouse came scuttling out onto the field and nibbled at the hem of Harry's robes. Harry, still chuckling, scooped it up and petted it.

Lily wrinkled her nose at that. "Wizarding Mouse, my eye. Looks more like a rat with a rubbish dye job."

Snape remembered that same mouse paying particular attention to Harry earlier. He narrowed his eyes at the creature. "Harry," he said softly. "Put it down and back away."

"What--" began Harry, but then the mouse transformed. It lengthened and widened until it was a balding man with a pointed face. Ropes spun from the man's wand, binding Harry's arms to his sides.

Snape and Lily pointed their wands directly at him. A growl rose from Lily's throat. "Back away, or I'll--."

"Don't!" Pettigrew squeaked, pressing his wand against Harry's neck. "I'll hurt him. I swear it."

"Malfoy wouldn't like it if his prize were injured," said Snape, swallowing against the dryness in his throat.

Pettigrew grinned, cracked lips peeling back from jagged teeth. "My master is far more powerful. Far beyond Malfoy's petty plans. Once he rises, Malfoy will be punished for his grab at power." His mouth twisted. "But he does have excellent knowledge on altering portkeys."

And, with a muttered incantation and a tap of his wand, the rosette twisted and glowed. "Change of destination," he whispered. "End of the line."

Harry looked at Snape and Lily desperately. "Mum," he said. "Professor...Sir...D--"

Snape took a chance and rushed forward. But it was too late. With a pop, they disappeared. All that was left was a puddle where their footprints had been, and the ticket Harry had dropped in his struggles.

Snape stared down at the twisted ticket drowning in the dark puddle. Safe, he'd promised. Safe as houses.

The promises of Slytherins...

"I wasn't fast enough, said Lily, hurling her wand at a sideline bench. It struck the metal with a sharp rap and rolled to the ground. Her face was drawn in angry lines, but her hands were white and trembling. "We should have done something more. He should have had more protection."

"He did…" began Snape. Then, in a flash of insight, he knew. He knew how to find the pathway. He whirled and clutched Lily by the shoulders.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes wide as she searched his face.

But now was not the time to talk. He shook his head. "Hogwarts," said Snape.