"Open," Snape ordered, the syringe with the Bone Mend Elixir in his other hand.

Do I have to? That stuff tastes disgusting! whined his familiar, sounding very much like a recalcitrant five-year-old.

Severus gritted his teeth exasperatedly.  They had been arguing in circles for almost five minutes now, and he was getting fed up.  It was times like these that he regretted being able to talk to the bird, it had been much easier before, when all he had to do was hold open the hawk's beak and make him swallow the potion.

"Look, you need this potion to get better, now stop whining and just take it! It would have been over and done with minutes ago if you'd stop being so bloody stubborn!"

I'm not.  You wouldn't want to taste it either, it coats your tongue and tastes like sour grapes, ugh!

"Do you want to fly again or not?"

Yes.

"Then open up and take this, or Merlin help me, I shall open your damn beak myself and shove it down your throat."

Hawk and wizard locked gazes for one endless minute.

Then the eyas gave in, looking away.  Fine.

He opened his beak.

"It's for your own good," Snape reminded him, inserting the syringe.

Blech! Where's the water?

"Here," Severus held the cup so the hawk could drink.

The bird drank for almost two minutes, washing away the dreadful taste.  Then he lifted his head and grumbled, You're mean.

Snape rolled his eyes.  "I know, I'm a horrible nasty wizard for giving you potions to mend your wings, aren't I? I should have just gotten a hammer and finished you off right away."

Might've been better than taking that, sulked his familiar.

"Stop it.  You remind me of one of my students, they complain endlessly too whenever I need to dose them for a fever or a cold.  Make me want to shake them."

You fix students too?

"Those in my House, yes.  If I have the proper potions on hand.  It's quicker than sending them to the Hospital Wing, Poppy is overworked taking care of the other three Houses as it is, and I learned basic medicine as part of my Potions Mastery.  I can diagnose and treat common ailments and set and splint broken bones and fix cuts and lacerations, I can even stitch wounds if necessary, though most times a spell takes care of that.  That was how I knew how to splint your wings."

Oh.  You're pretty smart, for a wizard.  Where's my breakfast?

"You have atrocious table manners too, like half the teenagers I know," scolded the professor.  "Then again, you're a hawk, and never needed any."

For some reason, that comment stung, and the hawk meeped an, I'm sorry, Severus. But I'm hungry.

"Here." He set a dead mouse, a rather large one, in front of the hawk.

The eyas immediately began to eat, tearing into the rodent with talons and beak.  In about ten minutes, the entire mouse was devoured, including the fur and bones. He would cast up the inedible parts later, they served to clean out his crop, which was where a raptor stored food before digesting it.

Delicious.  Thanks.

"You're welcome." Severus quickly wiped down the lab table with a cloth soaked in disinfectant before taking the hawk up on his wrist and returning to his quarters to have his own breakfast.

He had just begun eating his usual breakfast of fruit, toast, porridge, and a side of bacon when there came a knock on the door of his quarters.  "Come in."

The door opened to admit one Albus Dumbledore. 

"Severus, I was growing worried when you didn't come down to breakfast these past three days.  I was afraid you were ill."

Severus raised an eyebrow in astonishment.  And you came to make sure my corpse wasn't rotting on the floor finally? "No, I am well, Headmaster.  I have been eating here because I am taking care of my familiar." He indicated the young hawk, who was upon his perch, eyeing the Headmaster curiously.

"Oh, yes, I see." Dumbledore turned and examined the bird.  "My, you're a handsome fellow, aren't you?"

The eyas immediately straightened and gave a self-satisfied cheep.  I am, aren't I?

"Don't let it go to your head," Severus muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"And you look very well considering the accident you had," the Headmaster went on, pulling out a small owl treat and offering it to the bird. 

The hawk took it gently.  Mmm.

"He has nice manners for a wild hawk," remarked the Headmaster, gently stroking the hawk.

"Oh, I doubt he was wild.  He belonged to someone once, he's too used to being around humans for him to have been raised in the wild.  And red-tailed hawks aren't native to Britain," Severus replied. 

"Yes, of course.  Well, it's good to see you are bonding with your familiar, Severus.  I think you'll find having one reduces stress a great deal and you can tell a familiar many things and never worry about them betraying your secrets.  I talk with Fawkes all the time, though I'll confess sometimes I wish he could answer me."

No, you don't, especially if your phoenix was as mouthy as my hawk, thought the Potions Master wryly.  "You might not say that, Albus, if he did start to speak with you.  Sometimes it's better for familiars to be seen and not heard."

Thanks a lot, Severus!

"I would say he doesn't agree," Dumbledore chuckled. 

"He's a cheeky thing, all right."

"Has he a name?"

"Not at the moment.  I have been trying to come up with one that will fit him."

"One will come to you," Dumbledore said sagely.  "Naming a familiar is important. Rather like naming a child."

Severus nodded, though he was uncomfortable with the reference.  He had never considered himself to be decent father material, given his sharp manner and his inability to display affection properly.  "He will have one soon, however."

"Good.  I wish you much joy with him.  He suits you, my boy." He gave the hawk one last scratch before turning to his Potions Master and asking, "Have you given any more thought as to where Harry might have gotten to? It has been four days now and no one has been able to locate him.  I am quite concerned, Severus.  You are absolutely certain he is not being held hostage by the Death Eaters?"

"Albus, we've been over this.  If Potter were captured by any of them, they would not be able to resist bragging about it, nor hiding it from their master.  And if he had Potter, all of us would be summoned to witness his final victory over the boy.  He would make it very public, you can be assured of that." Severus's face twisted in a grimace.  "No quick and easy death, Albus.  That much I can tell you.  Wherever Potter is now, it is not with You-Know-Who's followers."

Albus sighed.  "Not that I really wanted him to be there, but at least we would not be, ah, what do the Muggles say-chasing a wild duck?"

"Goose," Severus corrected.  "Chasing a wild goose."

"Do you think it's possible that he is hurt and unable to seek us out for help?" fretted the Headmaster.

"If that were so, then why have all our locator spells failed?" Severus scowled.  "I am no novice at them, and I have them keyed to the boy's mental signature, and that cannot be counterfeited.  Hurt or not, it would register, and it hasn't, which suggests to me that he is somehow masking himself from us.  He does not wish to be found, Albus."

"But why? Surely there is nothing so bad that he cannot share it with his friends or . . .one of his teachers?"

"No?" Severus sneered.  "I assure you, Headmaster, there are things that are that bad." You would never understand because you have never been depressed to the point of contemplating ending it all, Albus Dumbledore.  You have never teetered upon the edge of the abyss and looked into the teeth of your worst nightmare and known it to be yourself. You have always been loved and admired, well-liked, you cannot imagine what it is to be despised for what you are by your own father and outcast in the one place that should have been a sanctuary.  Oh no, not you! You, like your Golden Boy James Potter, lived a charmed life until the Dark Lord came. "If Hagrid was correct, and his instincts usually are dead on target, Potter was depressed and perhaps he has gone away to deal with it on his own. He will return when he is ready."

"You are certain of this, Severus?"

"I am never certain where Potter is concerned.  The boy could drive a saint to blasphemy.  But given the evidence I have, my theory seems logical."

"Be that as it may, I shall not cease looking," the Headmaster said determinedly. "I have the Order searching as well, but so far nothing."

"You mean that mutt Black hasn't been able to trace him either?" Severus, said, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice.  It was petty, he knew, but he still detested the other wizard for everything the other had done to him during school and gotten away with.  "He once bragged to me that he had the best nose in Britain."

"Err . . .well, he hasn't been able to find Harry either.  Looked for him all day yesterday and came up with nothing."

Severus snorted.  "Figures.  Black always was overrated."

Maybe they should try a bird instead,  suggested the hawk.  No one can track like a hawk.  I'll bet I could find anyone you wanted, once I knew what he looked like.  If I can spot a mouse from over a hundred yards away, I could find Harry Potter.

Dumbledore looked at the bird.  "Talkative fellow, isn't he?"

"Yes.  He has an opinion about everything." Severus said dryly.  "Have you ever tried looking from a bird's eye view, Albus? I mean, using a bird to try and track someone?"

The old wizard looked thoughtful.  "Why, no, I never have.  I mean, we use owls as messengers, but I never thought a bird capable of finding people.  They'd have to be trained to it, and I don't know of anyone who would be willing to take the time or patience to train one, most birds aren't all that smart, you know.  Even our post owls, while brighter than ordinary ones, aren't intelligent enough to do that sort of work. No, Severus, it would never work.  Finding people requires a degree of intelligence birds lack, but it was an interesting idea."

Hey! You calling me dumb? screeched the eyas angrily.  For all your superior intelligence, ancient one, you haven't been able to find one lost kid.  I'll bet I could find him in two seconds, you bloody arrogant ignoramus, and I wouldn't need a human to train me either!

"My, he has quite a temper, doesn't he?" observed the old wizard.  "Well, they say like master, like familiar, eh, Severus?"

Severus did not reply, he was too busy biting the inside of his lip.

Oh, yeah? Then I pity yours, because he's probably as big of an arsehole as you are! And here I thought you were a nice old geezer, petting me and giving me treats! Ha! Last time I fall for that ruse. 

Dumbledore eyed the bird askance.  "Perhaps he's cranky because he can't fly."

No, old man, what I am is seriously pissed off!

"Severus, perhaps you ought to hood him," suggested the Headmaster, eyeing his Potions Master, who seemed to be having a coughing fit.  "I can do it, since you, ah, seem to be having difficulties at the moment."

Try it, you great booby, and you'll be learning a whole new way to cast spells!

The hawk clicked his razor-sharp beak meaningfully.

At that, Snape mastered himself and said, "Albus, it's not safe for you to approach him when he's in a mood.  He tends to snap and you wouldn't want Poppy to have to reattach a finger, now would you?  Let me handle him."

Dumbledore, who had been on the verge of trying to hood the hawk, quickly backed away.  "You would know best, Severus.  He is your familiar."

That's right, and you don't know how thankful I am for that!

Severus rose and walked over to the very annoyed hawk and clucked his tongue.  "Hush! There's no need to make a spectacle of yourself." He began to scratch the hawk's breast.

You heard what he said! I'm not stupid, Severus, I'm probably smarter than half the humans in the school, you said so yourself.

"Yes, I know.  Now settle down, please." The Potions Master ordered, still petting the bird.  Then he added, in a tone only the hawk could hear, "I nearly asphyxiated when you called him an arrogant ignoramus. I wasn't aware you knew such insults."

I remember what I hear, unlike some people, sniffed the eyas and glared pointedly in Dumbledore's direction.

"Well, I really must be going.  I shall see you at dinner then, Severus?"

"Yes.  Good day to you, sir," Severus managed to say in a semi-normal tone.

Yeah, go toddle off and look for the other half of your superior brain.  If that's what that Harry kid has to deal with, no wonder he doesn't want to be found.

Severus waited until the door had shut and he was certain he could not be overheard before indulging in an insane fit of laughter.  He laughed so hard he gasped.

Though he felt compelled to admonish his feisty hawk a little.  "You really shouldn't speak that way about the Headmaster.  It's disrespectful."

So's saying all of us birds are dumb. My idea was great and he just . . .took it like it was some kind of joke.  I resent that.

"The Headmaster is somewhat . . .traditional in his views.  He is also my employer and therefore I am going to ask you to restrain yourself around him."

Poor you.  Does that mean I can't rearrange his beard? Or accidentally bite off a finger?

"It does.  Your behavior reflects upon me, and if you don't want to be hunting grubs in the rain and living in a shack, you'll be polite to the . . .old ignoramus . . .hard as that may be. Learn to swallow your tongue, as I have had to."

Kree-awk! You're no fun, Severus!

"Agreed?" Snape demanded sternly.

Okay.  I don't want you to be homeless.  But, once I can fly again, if I just happen to be hovering and he comes along . . .well, we birds are too dumb to aim properly, and we just cut loose anywhere . . .so . . .

"Bird, you are impossible!"

Like master, like familiar.

And Snape found himself convulsed with laughter for the second time in one morning.  It was a record.  He hadn't laughed that way since before Lily had died.

* * * * * *

But the Potions Master wasn't laughing Friday evening, when he felt the long-dormant Mark upon his left wrist burn.  He had just returned from detention with Goyle, supervising the Slytherin dicing up some pickled rat liver and crab ovaries, and had just settled down with a cup of tea, the hawk perched companionably upon his shoulder, intending to finally reveal the name he had chosen for his familiar, when the Mark flared.

Gritting his teeth against the awful burning, he clamped a hand over it and swore. 

Severus, what's wrong? Are you hurt?

"No.  Not . . .the way you mean."

You're in pain.  Are you sick?

"No.  How do you know that?"

I can feel it from the way your muscles tense and your breathing's quick and harsh, the way it is when you're scared or hurt.  It's what prey feels like just before a hawk strikes to kill, the familiar explained, knowing instinctively what it felt like to hunt and kill, though he couldn't recall having ever hunted anything.

"It will pass once I . . .answer the summons."

What summons? From the Headmaster?

Severus snorted.  "Hardly.  Albus would wet himself were he to cause me such pain.  Knowingly, that is," he added with a cynical smile, for unwittingly Dumbledore had caused him more pain than a thousand Dark Marks. 

Then who's doing this to you? Tell me and I'll take them apart! I'll rip out their liver, pluck out their eyes! Nobody hurts my wizard!

Severus made haste to calm the frantic hawk, who would have been bating had he been able to fly.  "There is nothing you could do to stop him, brave one.  This is the price I pay for being a secret agent."

A secret agent? I don't understand.  Who are you . . .oh! You're a spy, watching that dark wizard who killed all those Muggles and all, right?

"Yes.  And as a spy, I have a pretense to maintain as a loyal Death Eater. Now, on your perch, quickly.  I haven't much time, it is best to not delay when the Mark burns." Severus urged the hawk, carefully placing the bird on his perch and fastening him securely, though he left him unhooded. 

Do you have to go, Severus?

"Yes.  Do not worry.  I shall return." Severus reassured him, his lips clamped tightly.  He did not bother mentioning that what condition he returned in was dependent upon the whim of the monster who summoned him.

Then he departed his quarters, seeking egress out of the castle, and once beyond the gates, he Apparated to where the Dark Lord awaited him.

* * * * * *

As Severus had predicted, Voldemort was not in a good mood.  That was putting it mildly.  Several burn marks upon the floor of the old library of Riddle Manor attested to that when Severus arrived.  Wormtail was cringing and sobbing in a corner, having clearly been chastised by the irate wizard already.

Severus gulped back bile, this was a very bad sign.  "You called, Master?" he asked, moving quickly to perform the customary obeisance, kneeling and kissing the hem of Voldemort's robe like a good little lackey.  He had long ago subsumed his desire to retch and spit upon the other's robe, else he would have been dead and buried.

"Ah, Severus.  I had wondered what kept you away so long." Voldemort purred, his red slit-pupiled eyes glittering with a curious longing. 

"My apologies, Master.  I would have come sooner, but the old fool has kept me busy teaching the little morons-"

"-and searching for Harry Potter, yes?"

"Yes, my Lord." Severus felt the hair on the back of his neck tighten. 

"And have you found the boy yet, Severus?"

"No, my Lord.  Not yet."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed.  "And why not, my little apothecary? Surely your skills are enough to locate one small fifth-year, are they not? Why then does he still remain missing? Almost a week and no sign of him."

Severus felt the blood chill in his veins.  Voldemort only used pet names when he was furious and about to deal some serious punishment, rather like an insane father who told his children he loved them before beating them to death. 

"Potter has . . .some small ability at concealment, Master.  And an Invisibility Cloak."

Voldemort's scaly hand fastened on Severus's collar, yanking the other man up on his toes.  "Not good enough, my dear Snape! I have been searching for him as well and he is nowhere to be found.  Which suggests that he is being hidden somewhere.  You wouldn't happen to know where he is, little apothecary?"

"No, Master."

"For if I cannot find him, then he must be somewhere within Hogwarts.  And therefore, you should know where he is, being my premiere agent.  Why don't you?"

"I am sorry, my Lord.  There is no excuse for my negligence," Severus began, knowing nothing he could say would mitigate Voldemort's temper, and any attempt to protest his innocence would only make the fiend angrier. 

"No, there is not." Voldemort hissed coldly.  "You have failed me, Severus Snape.  I want him found.  Found so that I may face him once and for all and kill him, as the prophecy demands.  Am I understood?" The hand tightened on the collar of Snape's robes.

"Yes, Master," Snape managed to get out through the crushing pressure. "Forgive me."

Voldemort licked his lips.  "You have disappointed me greatly, my child. I trusted you and you betrayed me.  Such is not done.  Not at all."

Severus flinched at the eagerness in the other's gaze.  This was going to be a bad night.

Voldemort drew his wand.  "I shall teach you better, little apothecary." He smiled, the smile of a sadist who was going to unleash some merry hell upon another captive soul. 

"Crucio."

* * * * * *

Snape had to give the bastard points for creativity.  Voldemort knew how to use the Cruciatus to target individual spots upon a person to cause maximum pain and still have them breathing at the end of it.  He was an expert on judging just how much pain one could handle before passing out and ruining his fun.

Unfortunately, Severus could withstand a great deal of pain, having been conditioned in his childhood, and he did not break as easily as Wormtail.  So Voldemort had a longer time punishing him, which only whetted his appetite. Causing pain was his favorite pastime, and it had been too long since he had indulged himself.

But at last the beast was sated, and Voldemort trained his wand upon himself, siphoning off the Potion Master's emotional anguish, drinking it down like a draught of firewhiskey.  Since his "resurrection", Voldemort discovered that he needed more than just corporeal sustenance, he also needed to feed on despair, pain, and fear, much like a demon.  He found the Potion Master's pain tasted sweet and filled his craving adequately.

He nudged the prostrate wizard with the toe of his slipper.  "Do not fail me again.  You are forgiven, Severus."

He waved his wand and Severus was Disapparated back close to the gates of Hogwarts. 

* * * * * *

Severus never knew how he made his way back to his quarters without passing out.  Yet somehow he did it, that indomitable stubbornness enabling him to do the nearly impossible, and walk upon legs that were threatening to collapse beneath him, wracked by spasms of terrible pain.  He had drank a pain reliever, which he always carried upon his person, before beginning the attempt, it had muted the worst of the tremors, enough so he could limp across the grounds and into the secret passage, and finally through the door of his quarters.

He just managed to shut the door before crumpling to the ground, his vaunted will unable to keep him upright any longer.

The hawk was dozing upon his perch when he caught the sound of the door opening.  He opened his eyes, looking towards the entry, and saw to his relief Severus come into the room. 

Then he saw the tall form sway and fall, landing with a thud upon the carpet.

Severus! What happened? He shrilled, terror shooting through him at the sight of the Black Protector lying so still upon the floor.  Severus!

The red mist clouded his brain, but through the hazy agony he could hear a hawk shrieking.  Hawk . . .where? Yes, my hawk . . .Snape thought blearily, trying to focus past the shaking and spasms that tore through him.  His familiar was calling him.  He managed to lift his head and hiss a reply, hoping to soothe the hawk enough so he didn't try and jump off the perch and risk damaging himself further.

". . .be all right . . .don't worry . . ."

Don't worry? How can you say that? You're . . .shaking and twitching like a rabbit about to die! What did he do to you?

" . . .the usual . . .Cruciatus . . ."

Cruciatus? The . . .the Torture Curse? The hawk cried, horrified.  He knew that curse, had recalled a man with one eye speaking about it . . .demonstrating it upon a spider . . .but to actually see the effects upon someone . . .especially one he cared about . . .Bastard! Sodding miserable bastard! I'll kill him for this! I will! I'll kill him!

Severus was in too much pain to wonder how a mere familiar knew about the Cruciatus Curse, he was barely conscious, and all he could think of was that the hawk was going mad from the sound of it and he needed to get over there before his familiar hurt himself.  His wings were halfway healed, the last thing the raptor needed was to break them again. 

He tried to heave himself up, but found his legs would not work, and his arms had almost no strength in them.  Damn! I need . . .to calm him down . . .Slowly, he propped himself up on an elbow.  Then the other.  Then he began to drag himself across the carpet. 

"Calm down . . .don't wan' to break your wings again . . .d'you?" he slurred, pausing as another tremor wracked him.

Me? What about you? You can't even walk!

". . . Hazard of th' game . . .th' most dangerous game . . ."

He gasped, coughed, then resumed his creeping pace across the floor.

Why do you do it? Why? The eyas trembled upon his perch, wishing desperately that he could fly.

" . . .have to . . .promised . . .only way to keep Lily safe . . ."

Who?

"Lily Evans . . .I loved her . . .then I lost her . . .I was a fool . . .she married Potter . . .and I promised her I would keep her and her son safe . . .swore an oath . . . didn't need to, would have done it anyway, but she didn't trust me, thought I was a Death Eater . . .Dumbledore never told her I was his spy . . ."

Dumbledore knows about this? About what the bastard does to you?

Severus bit his lip till it bled.  Then he gasped, " . . .'Course he knows . . .He knows what . . .that one does . . .used to be his teacher too . . .But I knew the risks . . .this was the only way to get good information . . .and I was the only one who could do it . . .still am . . ."

He could see the hawk now, walking up and down the perch, eyes whirling in alarm.

Tell him to get someone else.  Nothing is worth this! Nothing!

" . . .can't . . .I am bound to his destruction . . .even if I wanted to . . .couldn't leave . . .not free . . ." Severus sucked in a breath and crawled a bit further.  "The only thing I'm good for . . .the perfect spy, I have no family, no one will care if I die, everyone I loved is gone . . .he can't hurt me any more than this . . .d'you see?"

He had almost reached the perch. 

No! I don't.  Severus . . .they're killing you . . .and you're letting them . . .!

"I'm not dead yet, silly bird . . .this is the only way . . ."

No, you're wrong.  You're not alone. I care for you.

Almost there.  His hand grazed the wood of the perch. He paused, gasping for breath, feeling as if all his muscles had turned to water.  "I know.  Birds of a feather . . .Hagrid was right . . .both of us are broken . . .you on the outside and me on the inside . . .broken apart . . ."

What do you mean? You aren't broken, Severus.

"I am . . .you just can't see it . . .when Lily died . . .my heart shattered . . .and now I have nothing . . ."

Not true! You have me.

His hand curled around the perch and he pulled himself up, leaning against it.  "Yes. I have you.  Two broken creatures have found each other. Such . . .irony." He twisted his mouth in a bitter grimace. "Come down.  Before you hurt those wings."

Hang my wings! The hawk cried, then jumped the three feet to Severus's shoulder.

Severus suppressed a wince, for even the hawk's light weight caused his shoulder to explode in agony.  "I . . .didn't spend hours fixing them only to have you ruin it all now."

I know.  Severus . . .you fixed me.  I can fix you. The hawk began preening the black hair, making odd crooning noises. 

The Potions Master slumped to the floor.  "Fool bird . . .you cannot mend a broken heart . . ."

I can try, insisted the hawk. 

Snape's mouth twitched into what might have been a crooked grin.  "You shouldn't bind yourself to me . . .soon you will be able to fly again . . .fly free as you were meant to . . ."

Because of you.  You saved me.

"I did . . .one thing right at least." He could feel himself sinking slowly into a gray shadowy realm, where the pain would be dimmed for a time. But he fought against it.  There was one more thing he had to say.  "Finally picked a name for you," he rasped.  "Sorry . . .I took so long.  Had a time deciding, but finally . . .I think Freedom's a good name.  Hawks are meant to be free. . ."

Freedom, the hawk chirruped, trying out the new name.  It felt good.  It felt right. Yes.  I am Freedom.  And I shall fly free upon the wind soon.  I like it, Severus.

He peered down at the dark head, which was lolling to one side.

Severus? Severus? Panicked, he nipped the wizard's ear hard.

The Potions Master groaned.

Severus, don't leave me.  Please! Don't die! Don't die . . .not like Cedric! Please!

There was no response.  Terrified, the bird called Freedom knew only one thing.  He needed help.  I need to call someone.  He needs help badly.  But who? Think! You're smart.  Think! Who will hear you down here?

The hawk closed his eyes.  And recalled Severus sitting on the couch, calling out a single name and getting a response every time. 

He opened his eyes, drew in a breath, and screeched, TWIXIE!

Then he prayed that house elves could understand hawks.

A minute passed.

Two.

Freedom despaired.

Then there came a soft pop and a familiar voice cried, "Master Severus? Why is your familiar screaming for me?"

The house elf turned about, looking for the tall wizard, and gasped, one hand going to her mouth.  "Dear sweet Merlin! Master Severus! Not again! I shall fetch Mr. Hagrid!"

Help him!

"I am! Mr. Hagrid will know what to do," the elf said, then she vanished.

Freedom huddled miserably upon the black-robed shoulder, grooming his wizard's hair, offering what comfort he could and wishing he knew how to fix a broken heart.