They had only spent one night together in a shared bedroom, but Harry was more than ready for that to be the last. While Snape slept he snored and while awake he snarled and Harry didn’t particularly care for either.

Last night Healer Snape had reluctantly released the spell that held them to their beds, threatening to cast it once again if they overdid it. She was almost to the point of allowing Snape to have a separate room, depending on how well his maiden foray to the washroom alone went.

The early morning sunlight streamed in through the tattered curtains as Snape hefted his tall, lanky frame out of the bed to make his trip alone down the hall for his morning ablutions. He angrily shooed away the house-elf that tried to assist and after a curt reprimand the house-elf popped out.

After Snape slowly ambled out of the room, Harry took the opportunity while alone to try to get to his feet. His legs felt very stiff and unyielding but the pain had lessened to a dull throb. Of course he hadn’t been moving them much but he was determined to get up and about as soon as he was humanly able. The young Gryffindor pushed himself over to the side of the bed and dangled his throbbing legs over the edge.

Harry’s arms were starting to shake with the exhaustion from holding himself upright on the side of the bed. Cringing slightly he wasn’t about to give up his chance to exercise his legs without prying eyes watching his every move. His legs ached and hot streaks of pain shot up, all the way from his toes to his head, but he was resolute in his determination. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be bed bound for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Harry slowly inched closer so that his feet now were almost touching the floor. As he felt the cool wood of the floor touching the bottoms of his bare feet he stopped, taking a deep breath before he slowly began to stand.

The pain of thousands of tiny needles pricked the muscles of his legs and he clenched the bed tightly. Harry’s eyes streamed from the pain. Gritting his teeth he pushed off the bed and swayed before standing.

“I did it!” Harry said, laughing shakily as he took one halting, awkward step.

After a few more seconds Harry began to feel lightheaded so he inched back to the bed, his stiff legs moving slowly and laboriously. He was breathing heavy by the time he reached the bed again. Laying down face-first on the bed, he sucked in great gulps of air. It was a good first start anyway, he thought to himself.

Harry rolled over maneuvering his tired body back under the sheets, drops of sweat trickling down his face and stinging his eyes. Wiping the sweat from his face he glanced over to Snape’s bed. The professor had gone to the loo some time ago and would be back any minute.

The young Gryffindor’s mind wandered back to what Healer Snape had said about Snape’s owl. Could Sirius really have killed it? He loved animals of all kinds. Why would he do that? he thought. It just can’t be true. But…Sirius and my dad did torment Snape when they were kids.

Harry closed his eyes, thinking he would just rest for a moment while he had the quiet room to himself. Before he knew it he was sleeping soundly.

§§§§§§§

Ron and Ginny lay unconscious on the thickly carpeted floor, Wormtail standing beside them. Voldemort stood nearby, his arms crossing his chest.

“This does not look like Harry Potter to me, Wormtail,” Voldemort said as he indifferently watched the rat Animagus.

“It’s not, my Lord, but it can be just as good! This boy is Potter’s best friend, Ron Weasley. I was with the family for years,” he added nodding excitedly.

“Ah yes, your carefree rat years,” he snidely remarked, his lipless mouth curving into a smirk.

Wormtail stared guiltily at the floor for a moment before answering. “We can draw Potter out by using the boy, they’re very close.” He peered up at his Master hopefully.

Voldemort stared at the children, weighing his options. “Are you certain there is enough of a relationship between Potter and this whelp?” He did not look the least bit convinced, but his options were currently quite limited.

“Unquestionably, my Lord,” Wormtail fervently replied.

“We shall see, Wormtail. We shall see.”

§§§§§§§

Severus washed his hands as he stood at the sink, trying to push aside the dark, unhappy memories that threatened to engulf him. Sirius Black had killed his owl Claudius all those years ago, no matter what the headmaster wished to believe.

Turning off the running water Severus yanked the flannel from the bar, quickly regretting the rash action as the recently healed wound pulled, sending a sharp pain to his gut. Grimacing, he slowed his movements and dried his hands as his mind wandered back to that awful day in his 5th year.

Severus was sitting under a tree studying intently, his face close to the book in an attempt to shut out all distractions. Claudius, his beautiful tawny owl, was perched on his shoulder, the owl’s favorite place to be when he was permitted. Severus was calculating an Arithmancy problem in his head when he heard someone sniggering close by. He knew it could be only one of two people. Raising his head he saw James Potter a few feet away, grinning widely as he lazily twirled his wand in his hand. Sneering, Severus made eye contact with the cocky Gryffindor As soon as their eyes met, James quickly levitated the Slytherin’s book bag away from him heading for the lake. The taunting Gryffindor was well aware of Severus’ weakness in summoning charms and was using that knowledge to full advantage.

Motioning for Claudius to stay, Severus leapt up to retrieve his bag. It was at this critical point that the older and wiser Severus regretted not thinking more clearly, as he replayed the day’s events over in his mind. The young Slytherin had made a fatal error, he had forgotten that there were always two who played these games with him and he had not looked to see where the other would be.

It had been remarkably easy for Severus to get his bag back, intact and dry… too easy in fact. He had simply grabbed the much-too-slowly-moving bag and James lifted the spell. Snape narrowed his eyes, his suspicious nature now taking over. James innocently shrugged his shoulders, smiling sweetly as he looked over the Slytherin’s shoulder. Severus whirled to see that where his owl had been, Black was now lounging under the tree and laughing.

Where is Claudius! Severus thought frantically, hugging his bag to his chest.

“Nice day to be out, don’t you think, Snivellus?” Black said, his eyes shining with merriment.

“What did you do with my owl, you puerile reprobate!” Severus spat, angry red blotches appearing on his pale cheeks.

“Owl? I don’t see any owls?” Black made a show of standing and looking all around. The only animals in sight were some chickens in a crude pen at the bottom of the grassy hill. “I just see some chickens.”

Sirius turned back around to face Severus not seeing Hagrid as he appeared over the ridge, approaching the chicken pen with deliberate strides.

“If you did anything to harm my owl, Black, I swear to you, if it’s the last thing I do I will see you pay!”

“Calm down, Snivelly,” chimed in James. “Sirius is a regular animal lover, aren’t you,” he added in a sickly sweet voice.

“Sure, I love animals of all kinds—even ones that belong to a greasy git of a Slytherin.” The smile was replaced by a menacing sneer. “I would suggest that you watch your own step, Snivellus. You’ll never best us, not in a million years.”

As the teens were throwing heated insults at each other Hagrid reached into the pen and began to snap the necks of random chickens. James’ face lost all its color and he mutely pointed over Sirius’ shoulder, mouth agape.

Turning, Sirius screamed, “Oh God! Hagrid, STOP!” Black bounded over to where Hagrid stood, five dead chickens dangling by their feet from his beefy hand.

“What? I need to feed me Thestrals, Sirius. Mebee you should go on along if you get squeamish.”

Sirius grabbed the chickens hanging limply from the animal keeper’s hand shuffling through them until he came to one that was tawny colored. “Oh my God, Hagrid!”

“What?”

Sirius gulped and then looked to where Severus stood a quizzical look on his face. It slowly dawned on Severus what had happened. That tawny chicken was no chicken at all! Shaking with fear and anger, he rushed over and yanked the tawny chicken away, gingerly lying it on the ground. Pointing his wand he softly said, “Finite Incantatem.” The chicken instantly transformed back into his beloved owl.

Severus shook his head surprised at how the memory still shook him. Angrily, he threw the flannel to the ground and bent forward, gripping the sink tightly as he tried to regain control of himself. That idiot Black had killed his owl. And yet, Dumbledore had done nothing more than take away some House points and award two weeks of detention. Sirius had vehemently argued that it was an accident, that he never intended any harm to come to the animal and the headmaster had swallowed the tale, hook, line, and sinker. Severus closed his eyes and concentrated on burying his emotions, schooling his expression to one of indifference.

§§§§§§§

“Ennervate!” The spell flashed from the tip of Voldemort’s wand striking Ron’s chest. The boy’s body lurched and he slowly opened his eyes, moaning softly.

“Ah, my head. What did you do to me, Ginny?” Ron asked as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head, waiting for his vision to sharpen. He saw blurry figures approach as a high pitched voice spoke.

“Ronald Weasley, I presume?”

Ron blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He looked up, his eyes growing to the size of saucers once his vision cleared. What he saw before him was the stuff of nightmares. A tall thin figure in black stood before him, wand in hand. The man’s nose was flat and snakelike, with slits along the sides and the mouth was lipless, yet grinning. The eyes were the most shocking feature in the horrific face. Ron gulped as he stared into the glowing, blood red orbs that glared back at him with unbridled malevolence. The teen had never been more afraid in his young life. Oh Merlin, we’re dead, he thought, as a lump of abject terror lodged in his throat.

“Will you be answering me, child, or shall I awaken your sister as well?”

Ron flinched as Voldemort pointed the wand at Ginny. “NO! I am R-Ron Weasley.” He forced himself to his feet, his fear making his legs feel like he’d been hit with a Jelly Legs Jinx. He stood as best he could and moved in front of his still unconscious sister.

“Can you guess who I am, boy?” Voldemort said, reveling in the boy’s fear.

“V-V-…You-Know-Who,” he stammered. Ron forced himself to look evil straight in the eye, praying for that courage of Gryffindors that he had heard so much about. I will not die a coward, he thought as he straightened his back and thrust back his shoulders.

“Very good, child, very good. I believe we have a common acquaintance?”

“Harry Potter?” Ron answered, his brow furrowing, concerned that Harry might be here as well.

“Enough idle talk, boy…on your knees!” Voldemort pointed his wand at Ron and the teen instantly crumpled to his knees.

§§§§§§§

Severus slowly ambled into the bedroom, his usual gliding gait disjointed as he cradled his sore abdomen. Despite the pain in his gut, he tried to force himself to stand erect in front of Potter, but he quickly leaned forward again, upon seeing that the child was asleep in his own bed.

He made it to the edge of his bed and sat, letting his breath out in a rush. The Slytherin was convinced that his mother would allow them to be in separate rooms. Neither was in mortal medical danger at present but Potter would be if he were left to try the Potions Master’s patience for much longer.

Severus knew the child was itching to ask him more about Claudius. There was no sense in telling him anything more; he would take his idiot of a godfather’s side anyway.

Severus inched back onto his bed and lounged on top of the duvet. He had only closed his eyes for a brief moment when he heard Potter screaming in the other bed.

“NO! NO! RON!” Harry thrashed on the bed, both hands covering his forehead.

Severus jerked upright before he remembered his wound. Clutching his abdomen Severus was forced to grit his teeth as a searing pain shot through his recently healed wound. The way the child was gripping his forehead Severus was convinced that the Dark Lord was connecting with Potter again. Severus felt a pang of guilt for his refusal to continue Occlumency with the teen, although he would never forgive the little brat for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “Blast!” he shouted as he slid off the bed and ambled over to the other bed.

Harry moaned loudly and through the haze of pain the boy could clearly see Ron on his knees in front of Voldemort, Ginny lying beside him on the floor. “RON! GINNY!”

Severus reached out and grabbed Harry roughly by the shoulders. “Wake up, Potter! You’re dreaming!”

Harry could feel someone grabbing him but his body seemed to be so very far away. The vision before him was sharply in focus in his mind. Voldemort laughed and said, as if directly to Harry, “Come and get your friends, my dear Harry.”

Harry could feel Voldemort suddenly leaving his mind and he sat up straight, panting heavily. “We’ve got to do something! He’s got Ron and Ginny!” Shaking uncontrollably, Harry tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed but Severus held him still.

“You are not going anywhere, Potter!” Severus snapped, cringing at the pain that shot through his abdomen.

“I have to! I have to save them!” Harry wailed, wild-eyed.

The door to the room swung open and Dumbledore entered the room, wand out. He was taken aback at seeing an almost feral looking Harry Potter being restrained by the grimacing Potions Master.

“He’s got Ron and Ginny! I’ve got to help them!” Harry continued to yell, clawing at Snape’s arms.

Dumbledore reached out and lightly touched Harry’s temple. A wave of calm feelings washed over the teen, causing him to slump back against the pillows, murmuring groggily, “S-save them…must…save them.” His eyes glazed over and his mouth hung open.

Snape stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “He says that the two youngest Weasleys were taken by the Dark Lord.”

“That’s easy enough to check. I’ll contact Arthur and Molly via Floo and see if the children are there. You stay with Harry.” Dumbledore quickly made his exit leaving Snape alone with the boy.

Harry began to whimper softly again, his arms out in front of him, clawing at the air. “No! Don’t hurt him!”

“Mr. Potter. I expect to see you here, if you wish to see young Mr. Weasley alive again,” Voldemort purred. “I will await you here at this place that you would know as the Shrieking Shack. Come alone or the child dies.”

As if to emphasize his point, Voldemort pointed his wand at Ron shouting, “Crucio!” The dark wizard laughed as the air was filled with the anguished screams of the young redhead.