Harry awoke with a sharp cry, seeing Snape across from him already out of bed.

"Fire, Potter, come on!" he said.

"Sir, what if it's Death Eaters?" Harry gasped, terror gripping him tightly.

"We cannot afford to think like that now," Snape said, grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him to the door. Harry came quickly, his heart beating fast.

He watched as Snape pressed his hand against the door and felt the handle.

"Alright," he said. "Follow me, Potter, and stay low. Do you hear me?"

Harry, feeling like he was going to puke, simply nodded.

Snape slowly turned the handle and opened the door a crack. There was no fire in sight, but smoke filled the corridor. Dim yellowish bulbs of emergency light hung in the corridors, having burst into existence presumably the moment the alarm sounded. Water was pouring down into the corridor seemingly from thin air, a spell also triggered by the alarm. Smoke still rolled through the corridor.

"Sir, this doesn't feel right," Harry said over the roar. "What if this is just to get us outside?"

Snape grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him down the corridor.

"Well, we cannot stay here," he said to Harry. Other doors were now opening in the corridor, patients pouring out. They were shunted with the crowd along the fire evacuation route.

Bent double in the smoky air, Harry stumbled through the hall. It got thicker as they left the men's hallway and turned left, away from the sitting area. The crowd was headed for the courtyard doors. Harry squinted, trying to see if Stephen was among them. So far, he did not see him. Worry filled his stomach like acid.

He wondered if this fire was caused by the same person that had lit the children and teen ward on fire. Was it an accident? Or was it arson?

Harry coughed violently.

"Hang in there, Potter, almost there," Snape reassured him in his teaching voice.

Harry's knees smarted painfully as they hit ground. Someone had shoved him from behind by accident. It was the Auror, much to his annoyance.

"Hey, watch it!" Harry called after him, for the Auror was still pushing and shoving his way through the crowd.

Snape looked behind them, alarm written on his face.

"What?" Harry asked, his voice mostly drowned out by the noise of the crowd and still wailing alarm

Snape shook his head, a look on his face that clearly said, later.

There was a bright, white light out in the courtyard despite it being night. An emergency beacon must have been lit, for the open door to outside glowed like the entryway to life. Harry took a deep, rattling breath as he was pushed out into the open. The fresh air met Harry's like rebirth, the heat disappearing and the cold night air pressing in on his lungs as fresh water would feel in a desert.

There were a number of healers who were organizing the evacuation. Windows into the courtyard poured frothing smoke, and in the furthest corner from the burning portion of the building, they stood, waving patients toward them. Someone was checking off patients as they went. It was the trainee healer who handed out potions. He nodded toward Snape and Harry.

Harry looked around, his eyes scanning the building and trying to see any flames, but so far, he saw none.

"This way please!" said a female healer Harry didn't recognize. She must have been on the night shifts.

Harry had to grab Snape's arm this time. He was staring over at the Auror, who had an odd smile on his face.

"Come on, sir," Harry said, his heart thrumming quickly in his temple, dizziness from the smoke causing a small headache to blossom behind his eyes.

They went to the female healer calling all the patients to her, and lined up.

"These portkeys will take you to our evacuation area," she said quickly, "four patients at a time please."

"Harry!" called a panicked voice, and to his relief, Harry saw Stephen standing nearby.

"Am I glad to see you - come join us," Harry said, waving urgently, forgetting his anger with Stephen's behaviour for the moment.

Stephen came over with his roommate, and together, the four of them grabbed a hold of the cardboard box stamped with a fire symbol.

The world disappeared, and reappeared at the end of a swirling mass of colour. Their new surroundings bloomed a black flower before Harry's eyes. It was mostly dark, and at first there seemed to be no movement. Then, the globes of light were raised into the sky, illuminating the scene. Already the empty field was swarming with emergency personnel and healers. Blankets were being handed out, first aid tents set up, and someone was counting patients. Another helper came to get their portkey.

The portkey collected, Harry stared at Stephen for a moment, not sure what to say. Snape was observing the area again, not paying attention to them in a highly deliberate manner.

"I'm going to go get us some blankets, or something," Stephen's roommate said rather nervously, sensing the tension. He disappeared into the hubbub.

"I am an idiot, okay?" Stephen said at last.

"Yeah," said Harry coldly. "I want to hear why, though."

Stephen was silent for a moment, a time during which all could be heard was the panicked sound of patients arriving by portkey and discussing what had happened.

"I know you were just trying to help, and stuff, bringing me that pot I made for my parents," Stephen said at last, eyes downcast. "I mean, how could you know I was showing my parents my room and they weren't in the visiting area ... but ... well, I guess I was just mad, is all. It's just ... father, he freaked."

"I bet," muttered Harry, eyes downcast as well now as he noticed the devastated look on Stephen's face.

"Er, before that, they were considering sending me to Hogwarts for my sixth year. Then, as soon as he figured out you would be going back, and he thought you were ... well, you know. More than a friend, he said that there was no way he would let me go."

"Oh, that's horrid," Harry said, stricken. "I had no idea - that's awful ..."

"That was part of why we were meeting," said Stephen, eyes welling up slightly, "Joseph wanted to have a word with them, because he also thinks it would be good for me to go to school away from home."

"Any chance left that they will let you?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Dunno, but Joseph is gonna help me work on it," said Stephen with a bittersweet smile, wiping his eyes hastily on his sleeve. "Listen, what with all this ... with the fire and everything, considering someone could have gotten hurt," - Stephen took a deep breath - "I sort of realized how stupid it is of me to get mad at you for how my dad acts. It isn't your fault he acted like that. It's his, because he's a judgemental idiot. That's kind of a blunter way of saying what Joseph's been talking to me about. I'm sorry I was ignoring you."

Harry glanced over at Snape, who had obviously heard the whole exchange. He wasn't looking in Harry's direction, but Harry thought for a moment about the conversation they had had earlier.

Hear the story. Then draw judgement.

"Apology accepted," Harry said quietly after a moment of consideration. He smiled slightly.

Tentatively, Stephen smiled back. A real smile.

"I better go find Josh," said Stephen, glancing over his shoulder to see where is roommate went. "Let him know he can come back."

"See you later, then," Harry said.

A healer came over and handed him a blanket, which he wrapped over his pyjamas. Snape accepted one too.

"I wonder how the fire started," Harry asked Snape.

Before Snape could reply there was a blinding flash, and the clicking of a shutter.

***

The sound made Severus' blood curdle. His vision was still adjusting. He searched for whoever had taken the photo, the crowd swimming before him as panic flooded his veins and Potter stared blankly ahead in horror.

Then he saw it. A golden retriever on the outskirts of the field. The retriever became a man. In the dim light, at that distance, Severus could not make out who it was. The man disapparated before he could get a better look. Potter, still looking close by for the source of the flash, didn't see him.

Blood pounded in Severus' skull. Fear and anger banged like a drum in his ears, and suddenly, it all clicked.

It was like the camera was exploding over and over behind Severus' eyes as the images, the moments that led to this rang clear.

Just come and visit, you can even bring the dog (the letter the Auror's letter, remember?)

This is Samuel (A dog, a dog, of course he didn't sign the confidentiality agreement he's a dog but he isn't, Samuel how could you?)

Fire in the youth ward - an accident but nonetheless headline news with pictures of the evacuation, at a distance, no patients shown for confidentiality because someone had to sign an agreement (and who in there would make news anyway?) to come and take a photo of the scene and confirm the children got out safe for the papers ... dispel rumours ...

Samuel - Samuel, a man all along

And that man knew where, he knew because some reporter knew and whether it was him or not who came last time someone knew where this place was. It was just an evacuation point after all, hardly ever used, tough to secure heavily, at least permanently.

The Auror ... I saw him (you saw him, Severus) coming running from the wrong direction - I saw you I saw you - running from the sitting room and not the men's hallway like everyone else -

Why would you be running from there, why -

Every instinct left in him from spying, every piece of deductive reasoning imparted upon him had led to this moment. It all added up. It wasn't Death Eaters, but it was planned. It was meant to look like another accident. After all, they'd moved some patients into this ward but it wasn't the person who started the first fire, whoever they were. This was no accident ... this ... this wasn't revenge this was money, greed ... this was -

"Arson," breathed Severus. He felt dizzy and cold, like shock was starting to set in. It probably was.

"Sir?" Potter said, pale and ghostly and looking younger than he was. "Arson? Maybe but, Sir, did someone just take our picture ... what if -"

In that brief second, Potter's words dropped off the earth. Severus saw him, and he was still wearing that smirk.

"YOU!" Severus yelled, diving for the Auror and grabbing him by the front of the robes. Patients scattered, and then stopped to stare.

"There's going to be something in the headlines tomorrow, right?" Severus spat in the Auror's face.

"Unhand me," said the Auror far too calmly for his usual demeanour. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"YOU DID THIS! YOU STARTED THE FIRE JUST FOR A PICTURE! You lousy, conniving, money-hungry bastard! How much is the Prophet going to give you for the story, and the picture included? Huh? HOW MUCH?"

As he got the last word out, Severus took a swing at the Auror. He got him on the jaw, hard. The Auror did not make a sound, wiping the blood off his lip, fury written on his face. For a moment there was only the rustling commotion of the emergency workers finally cottoning on to the argument, the noise from the other patients dying down.

The Auror snarled, staring at Severus, who was getting ready to throw another punch. In his fury, Severus didn't move fast enough, and the punch that caught him in the stomach had him doubled over and staring at the dark, dew covered grass.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" came a familiar yell.

"Potter - no!" Severus gasped, looking up just in time to see Potter throw himself at the Auror and start hitting anything he could reach.

But the Auror was rearing and angry now. Potter never saw it coming, and the backhand to his face came faster than any hex Severus knew.

Potter crashed to the ground head first with a nasty thud, leaving him moaning in the grass. But, before Severus could get up, a group of healers and emergency workers were pulling the Auror away, and lifting him to his feet. He didn't hear the scolding he got, or the questions as to what had happened. They must have needed a few people to detain him, as no healers came immediately to him or Harry.

Severus didn't say a word. Despair spiralled deep inside his chest, shooting through his stomach and making him feel sick.

The story would already be typed and ready for the Prophet this morning. The presses were probably just waiting for the photograph for the big story, and then they would start them so the copies would be done in time for delivery at dawn. Even if you charged into the Ministry before they printed it, the story would get out somehow. The conniving bastard was probably already there now. There would be no stopping them once they got the presses going. The press never listened. Not even to Dumbledore.

The picture would be added in, and everyone would know that he'd had a breakdown.

And Potter, whispered a little voice.

Potter too. They both would be in the photo.

***

Potter didn't seem to understand it all, what that picture would mean. He was obviously bothered, and worried of where the photograph might surface, but Potter mentioned that it was a good thing there was nothing easily identifiable in their surroundings. It was just a field, so there couldn't be too much harm done, right?

Severus didn't really think that he got that it would go with an article, and he definitely hadn't put the pieces together regarding the Auror and the dog, but Severus didn't have the heart to tell Potter the nature of his suspicions when the he was looking so tired and sick. Another wave of healers had come once the Auror had been hauled away, and had a word with Severus and taken care of Potter. Severus didn't bother to tell them anything. They would just label him delusional or paranoid. Until it hit the newspaper stands. After that the only thing to be done would be to press charges, but that would only draw attention.

Either way, the healers said Potter had a concussion. He was looking morosely over at Severus every so often, and sitting on a bench conjured for him by the first aid tent.

Hospital workers and emergency workers were trying to sort out who would go where. The fire damage wasn't too bad. Almost everyone's things could be returned, but the fire was enough to shut down the ward for a good week. The youth ward wasn't ready yet, as that fire had been much worse. Another temporary ward would be opened, but due to short notice, it would have less stringent security measures.

"You did not have to do that," said Severus quietly, sinking down beside Potter on the bench and leaning back. Potter had a hand-shaped bruise coming in fast on his cheek.

"Yes I did," Potter said stiffly.

Severus glanced sideways. "What do you mean?"

"Friends don't let each other get beat up," Potter spat. "And I hate that Auror."

"Friends?" Severus said slowly, eyebrows raised.

Potter turned red.

Severus wasn't sure what to say. He smiled instead, and looked at his feet. It was enough to set Potter at ease, however.

"How is your head?" Severus asked.

But Potter wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was staring off at something a ways away.

***

"Sir, what's Dumbledore doing here?" Harry asked, making out the tall, white haired figure of the headmaster off in the distance. At least he thought it was him. His vision was blurring a little.

Snape sighed.

"We cannot go to the temporary ward. It has too little security. Therefore ..."

Harry swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure if it was dread at not knowing where he would be going, or something else.

Snape's lip curled a little as Dumbledore spotted them and began to walk toward them. He looked like he had a score to settle.

Right, he was supposed to visit Snape tomorrow. Bad timing. Must have been an important conversation.

"We must go, now," said Dumbledore.

"Never one for small talk," Snape muttered under his breath. Harry sniggered a little, but stopped quickly as he felt ill.

"My contacts informed me of the fire as soon as they could. We must leave."

"What is your favourite kind of jam?" Snape asked in a monotone voice, clearly annoyed.

Harry looked sideways at him, wondering what the hell that was about.

"Raspberry," said Dumbledore.

"Well, that is our cue, Potter," said Snape grudgingly. "I have news besides that I wanted to discuss with you earlier, Albus, and you definitely are not going to like it. It does require an explanation longer than we have time for now, however. It must wait ... unfortunately."

"I have contacted your healers - you two will be coming with me to a secure location," said Dumbledore. "They have contacted the right people, and you two are now free to leave with me. That is why it took me a few minutes to arrive. Come."

Harry stood up, and promptly threw up on the hem of Dumbledore's robes.

Snape looked amused, taking note of the way Dumbledore's eye twitched slightly. Snape did at least have the good grace to look sympathetic. Although Harry felt the sympathetic look wasn't aimed at Dumbledore, but rather at him, to his surprise.

"We cannot apparate," drawled Snape, arms crossed, nodding to Harry. "Concussion." Dumbledore gave him a questioning gaze. "All news to come."

Dumbledore waved his wand to vanish the mess and dismissed Harry's stuttering apologies while a healer came over with an anti-nausea potion.

Dumbledore frowned. "No matter," he said quietly. "I have the Order surrounding this place. We will walk, then. Thankfully, we are not far. And I have Harry's cloak. We need something a little more powerful than disillusionment charms, so you two will have to share.

Harry stumbled forward dizzily.

"Potter, you are going to kill yourself," said Snape, sounding rather pitying. "Come here.

Harry, confused stopped.

"That potion is going to make him very tired soon, so he had best lay down for a while," the healer said to Dumbledore, conjuring a small pillow on the bench.

"Well, then no bloody choice," Snape said once the healer had gone. "I said, come here, Potter."

"Sorry?" Harry said, his words slurring as Snape grabbed him.

Snape was picking him up. To carry him.

WHAT?

"Cloak, Albus," said Snape, sounding disgruntled. "Stop struggling, you stupid proud Gryffindor, it's for your own good. Right, and puke on me and I will kill you."

The cloak was dropped over top them, and a disillusionment charm placed on their heads for good measure, lest their feet show.

The fabric descended over them, and Harry's vision faded to blackness as Snape fell in step behind Dumbledore, the unsettling feeling that he knew just where they were going lying on his chest like a weight.