Albus Dumbledore's wand shook within his trembling fingers as he took in the horrendous scene before him. The horror radiating through body rocked him to his very core, and he suddenly felt every moment of his 116 years of life.

Severus and Harry lay sprawled unconscious on the floor - both loved fiercely enough by Dumbledore to be confused by strangers as his own son and grandson. Both almost unrecognizable beneath their battered and bloody faces. The air left Dumbledore's lungs with a whoosh when he realized that, although these heinous injuries had not been caused with his own two hands, they may as well have been.

This is all my fault...

Severus and Harry were completely oblivious to their rescuers and the chaos of the triage being preformed on them, for which Dumbledore was exceedingly grateful. He wouldn't want either of them awake during this horrific moment, and knew that neither would take well to being nursed or fussed over.

Dumbledore was exceptionality grateful that Harry was unconscious and therefore spared any fear or humiliation their presence would cause. Trying to calm his frantically beating heart, Dumbledore cast a shaky glance around the room. It was obvious what had happened, and a surreptitious look at Harry and his cousin told Dumbledore all he needed to know.

The bigger boy was completely exposed from the waist down, and even though it looked as if Harry had put up quite a fight, it clearly hadn't been enough; Harry was nearly disrobed, as well.

Only moments after receiving the panicked patronus message from Nymphadora, Dumbledore had apparated directly to St. Mungo's. His pounding heart threatening to burst from his chest, he had charged past an agitated Tonks and Roger Davies, both of whom were talking over each other in their frantic attempt to explain to him what had happened. As he stood in Severus' empty hospital room, there was little doubt as to where the man had gone. He'd immediately ordered Tonks to gather a rescue party of members from the Order and meet him at Privet Drive, then turned to Roger and pleaded with the boy not to say a word to anyone. The last thing they needed was a group of Death Eaters meeting them on the muggles' doorstep.

Tonks had immediately reached out to those at the Ministry she knew they could trust: Alastair Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Arthur Weasley. There wasn't time to wait for others.

The rescue party had gotten there just in time. The scene that met Dumbledore's eyes was one that would haunt him to his grave, chilling him to the very marrow of his bones each and every time he remembered...

Severus, beaten to within an inch of his life, reaching for the unconscious body of his bloodied son as Dudley stood poised above him, ready to deliver a killing blow. And Harry... The boy must have experienced absolute terror during the beating in which he received those horrific injuries. The thought of what had almost happened made Dumbledore's gut violently clench and churn, and he felt a cold sweat break out over his aged, papery-thin skin as he swallowed back the urge to retch.

Good God in Heaven, I did this! I sent my precious boys directly into this Hell!

Dumbledore's vision suddenly went black at the edges. His breathing hitched and his body began to tremble and weaken.

"Albus?" Kingsley's voice was tinged with alarm.

The small room was crowded and noisy as they hurried to heal as much as they could. But at Kingsley's obvious distress they all suddenly went silent, turning to stare at Dumbledore with wide eyes. The headmaster was in shock, it seemed. He hadn't moved, hadn't even dropped his wand to his side since entering the small room.

Dumbledore's chest constricted as his breaths began to come in quickened, panicked gasps.

I did this! If they don't survive, the deaths of my family members will once again be on my head...

Sudden understanding hit Kingsley like a punch to the gut, and with frantic movements he was able to conjure a pillowed armchair to catch the headmaster only seconds before Dumbledore collapsed.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape came awake slowly, his awareness struggling to the surface as if it were trapped in cold molasses.

"Har…ry…"

He didn't recognize the raspy, croaky voice as his. It took him a moment to realize that someone was there next to him, and that soft, delicate fingers were entwined within his own.

"Severus?" she murmured softly.

"Lily..." He murmured in relief. His eyelids were incredibly heavy, but he forced them open so he could look upon her beautiful face. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked drained and exhausted. But she was still the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on.

"Oh, Severus." Tears thickened and clogged her voice. "Thank God." Grasping his hand with both of her own, she lifted it and placed a gentle, tender kiss against his stiff, swollen fingers. He could feel the wetness of the tears upon her lips.

Snape attempted to rise, but her hand against his chest stalled him. "Don't," she said softly. "I'll get him." And she hurried to the doorway of the unknown room and called, "Harry, come quickly!"

Harry… Snape thought, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to prevent the sudden tears from falling. My boy is safe. Thank you, God.

And suddenly there he was, followed close behind by little Jilly.

My family.

Looking upon their faces – all of them safe and together once more – something deep inside him broke, and he choked back a sob as the tears flowed freely down his face.

"Dad…" His son's voice sounded as if he didn't trust what he was seeing. Harry's features were mottled with old, yellowing bruises, the blood that had covered them now gone to show only a few healing cuts.

He's safe… My son is safe.

Harry began to cry as he stumbled to the bed and threw himself onto his father's chest. As Harry buried his face into his shoulder, Snape closed his eyes and wrapped the boy tightly in his arms. Together they lay trembling and tear-stained, finding comfort from their horrific ordeal in the other's embrace.

Snape was unaware how long they stayed like that, but when he opened his eyes both Lily and Jillian had quietly gone. Harry gazed at him with wet, spiky lashes, tears continuing to dampen Snape's shirt where he'd let his cheek fall against it. Snape used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the wetness as he cupped his son's cheek.

"Are you ok?" he softly asked the boy.

"I…" Harry swallowed audibly.

Seeing his son's unease and knowing full well the turmoil of emotions he was going through, Snape wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close once again. "I know," he murmured as his swollen hands traveled in comforting motions through Harry's hair and over his back. "I know."

A long, silent moment passed heavily between them.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Harry asked against his chest.

"Tell you what, son?" Snape asked, continuing to make soothing motions with his swollen hands.

"About what your father did to you."

Snape's movements stilled, and he felt himself stiffen as his gaze suddenly sharpened and a loud buzzing sounded in his ears.

What? How did…?

Harry raised his head, his green eyes piercing as they gazed sadly down at him. And suddenly Harry was gone, replaced a particularly henious memory of his Snape's father brutalizing Snape as a boy.

Harry was showing him the dark, ugly truth that Severus had tried so hard to protect him from.

Horror and sorrow warred within him at the thought that he had unconsciously planted such a vicious memory inside his son's mind. It was a horrible burden to carry, one that he'd tried desperately to conceal from the world. And yet after all that, he'd still failed to hide it from Harry, the one person who'd had enough torment to last three lifetimes.

Confronted with his own demons, Snape suddenly found it difficult to draw breath. He couldn't meet Harry's gaze, instead looking through the window at a sea of green hills when he murmured, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, Harry." The words sounded choked as he forced them over the hard lump in his throat.

But his son – his loving, forgiving, compassionate boy – looked down at him in confusion. His brows furrowed together as he murmured, "But… you were there for me."

It didn't seem to matter to Harry that Snape was tainted goods. For some unfathomable reason, he didn't care that his father's weakness had been the cause that sent Harry back to those evil muggle Devils.

I wasn't there to protect him. I let him down when he needed me most. But still he doesn't hate me.

Snape couldn't help but feel amazed that this tragic, tender soul who had every right to despise him actually loved him enough to offer his forgiveness and understanding, without even realizing the magnitude of those gifts.

"You saved me, Dad."

He searched his son's face. "No, Harry. I think that from the moment you walked through the castle doors so long ago… you saved me."

. . . . .

Sometime later Lily reappeared, and a warm smile spread across her face as her gaze met Snape's over the top of Harry's slumbering form. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she padded quietly over to the side of the bed and ran her fingers through Harry's hair as he slept.

"He was so worried about you," she murmured after a moment, removing Harry's glasses and placing them on the bedside table, then gazing down at the boy as if he were her own. She was more beautiful to Snape in that moment than she ever had been before.

"Harry has barely left your side these past few days. He was more ghost than boy when he came home - his voice was hollow, his eyes were empty... He was..." She searched for the right word, "Broken." Snape closed his eyes as his arms tightened around his son and his mind whispered, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault...

But Lily's voice stirred Snape from his guilty reverie before it could truly begin to take hold. "This morning... Something changed. It was as if something deep inside recognized that you were coming back to us. He smiled at me. And then heasked if we could have pancakes for breakfast." Her eyes shone tenderly down at Harry before she murmured, "He and Jilly were in the kitchen when you woke up, making your recipe. It was like..." Her gaze searched Snape's own before she finished in a whispered hush, "Magic."

In that moment, with his son safe in his arms and the woman he loved at his side, Snape knew a blessed, sacred peace. For the first time in his life, he felt wholly and utterly complete.

. . . . .

Harry slept like the dead for hours, as only those who have known the deepest mental strain but had it suddenly melt away can do. He never moved, and Snape was happy to let him slumber on with his arm resting gently around him. Nothing can happen to him as long as he is in my arms...

Lily came to check on them every so often, smiling tenderly whenever her loving gaze met his own content look. It was as the sun was nearing its highest peak in the sky that Snape's eyes finally closed and he slipped into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

His eyes opened slowly sometime later to a darkening space and voices in the next room. Harry must have woken and slipped from the room while Snape was sleeping, for he was nowhere in sight.

Feeling hungrier than he could ever remember, Snape gingerly slid his legs to the edge of the bed, only releasing the breath he didn't realize he was holding when he was steadily on his feet. Although he was still weak, the feeling was nothing like when Snape had woken in St. Mungo's, and he couldn't suppress his relief when he was able to move gingerly around without incident.

The door was slightly ajar, and with a frustrated sigh he admitted that he was having trouble using his hands to lift the robe down from the hook behind it. Feeling extremely foolish, he finally got it down and slipped his arms through, deciding to leave it untied as he walked out to his family.

The room he entered was large and round, he noted curiously. Through the large windows Snape could see a beautiful sunset over the lake with miles of Scottish highlands behind it, and he decided they must be in one of the towers.

Snape rounded the corner and smiled to himself at the view before him. Jillian and Harry were sitting in front of the massive fire place, playing a friendly, giggly game of gobstobes. And there in an overstuffed armchair reading an old, magical textbook on medicinal potions and techniques, was Lily. Behind her were multiple bookshelves lining the walls, the shelves completely full of many different titles.

Not like my old library, but it's a start...

Jillian spied him first. "Severus!" she cried, jumping up and running to him. Harry flashed a bright smile, but was slower to rise. Lily came to help him to his feet before they too came to Severus' side.

"Hi Jilly-Bean," Snape murmured with a warm smile, gently patting the young girl on the back of her head when she threw her arms around his legs. "I've missed you.

"I missed you too, Severus," she said, her bright face shining up at him. "I came to see you every day. Did you hear us reading to you? Madam Pomfrey said it was our responsibility to keep your mind busy. Harry and I took turns."

Snape glanced at his son in question, and as their eyes met, Harry yet again used legitimacy to show him without words. A scene flashed in his minds eye. Harry and Jilly were on the sickbed beside him while he was still unconscious, one on either side as they read aloud from a book propped up before them. As Jilly passed the book to Harry, he caught a glimpse of the title: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll. Snape had read it as a young boy before Hogwarts, even before he'd met Lily. He recalled the feeling of wishing he could escape with Alice down, down, down through the rabbit hole… Strangely, the memory didn't pain him or cause any panic like it once had.

"You know, I do think I remember," he murmured with a smile. "Something about a smoky caterpillar and a Mad Hatter."

"Yes!" Jilly cried in excitement. "We were reading all about Alice's adventures in Wonderland!" Her face suddenly sobered. "Were you in Wonderland, Severus? Is that why you couldn't wake up?"

He ran his swollen fingers through her hair as a sad smile crossed his face. Thinking of everything he'd fought against to get his family back, he murmured, "I was fighting the evil Red Queen."

She gasped and her eyes widened. "Did you win?" She whispered.

Love for his children overflowed his battered soul as Snape looked at both of them and whispered back, "I did."

At that moment the floo flared to life, and Poppy Pomfrey walked through the flames. A happy smile lit her lined face as she gazed at the four of them.

"It's wonderful to see you back amongst the living, Severus. You've had us all very worried over the past few weeks." He acknowledged her kindness with a nod, as the floo flared to life again behind her.

Dumbledore unfolded his long frame from the emerald flames, followed closely behind by a woman Snape did not recognize.

"Albus, look how well he's doing!" Poppy called enthusiastically. As she shared a happy smile with Lily, she missed the dark look that passed over Snape's features as he gazed at the older wizard. Dumbledore met his glare with sad, steady eyes. He, too, looked drained and exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin had acquired new lines. It looked so thin as to make his face appear almost skull-like in the dim light of the setting sun.

The headmaster seemed to know that Snape blamed him for Harry's ordeal, and did not shy away from the rage radiating from the younger man. Indeed, he seemed to feel that the anger was well-deserved. To Snape he suddenly looked younger like a lost child, and older like a veteran that had seen too many wars, all at the same time.

"Ouch!" Harry suddenly cried, rubbing at his scar.

"Are you alright, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, and Snape had to fight down an urge to snap at the man not to speak to his son. His eyes rested upon Harry inquiringly.

"M'fine," Harry murmured. "It's... nothing serious," he said meaningfully. Snape took a mental note to speak to Harry later, wanting to know for sure if they were 'nothing major'.

After a moment, Dumbledore turned his heavy blue gaze back to Snape. "I'm glad to see that we have not interrupted your much-needed rest, Severus," He spoke quietly. "But when Dr. Gunderson heard that you were awake, she came from St. Mungo's directly."

With effort, Snape swallowed back the scathing retort on the tip of his tongue and turned his attention to the the doctor. She was an older woman with rectangular spectacles, perhaps Minerva's age, whose confident, smooth movements belied her advancing years.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," the doctor spoke, moving forward and readjusting a heavy black doctor's bag in order to offer a small, but strong hand. Snape's fingers were still incredibly sore, and he appreciated the obvious care she took not to further injure his swollen appendage as she shook his hand. "My name is Dr. Gunderson. I specialize in neurology, and have been working on your case since you were first brought to St. Mungo's. I'm actually well acquainted with your family," she said with a warm smile directed at Harry, Lily, and Jillian. "They were all great assistants in your physical therapy routine while you were with us."

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Gunderson," Lily said with a genuine smile. Noticing that the living room was getting rather crowded, she continued, "Would everyone like to take a seat? I'll be happy to put on a pot of tea."

"Thank you, Lily," Dr. Gunderson said with a smile. "That would be wonderful. May I request that we sit at the kitchen table, Professor Snape? I need to take a look at those hands, and good lighting will help."

"Jilly," Harry muttered, "Why don't we finish our game while they work?" But the boy was unable to hide his nervousness behind the smile he gave the girl. His eyes flicked toward Dr. Gunderson, who gave him a friendly nod.

As they settled across the table from each other, Dr. Gunderson continued to look upon Harry before she quietly murmured, "Roger Davies explained why you left the hospital in such a hurry. I'm relieved to hear that Harry is back with you, where he belongs."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Snape quietly replied, also gazing over at his son.

As Lily came to stand beside them, he was amazed to see her take out her wand and easily produce a delicate, beautiful china pot filled with tea. "Dumbledore taught me," she said with a half smile. But as she poured the first cup, she realized it was lacking the proper amount of steam. Lily made an impatient noise, saying, "I just can't seem to get the temperature right."

"It's the flourish at the end," Snape explained, slipping easily back into teaching mode. "There's a twist that takes some practice. Here, I can show you." Without thinking he reached for her wand, only to have it clatter to the floor due to the pain that shot through his joints when he attempted to grasp the wood between his fingers.

With a dismissive wave and a quick peck on the cheek as she scooped her wand off the floor, Lily tried to put him at ease. "It's alright. We'll work on it."

Snape gazed out the large window beside the small breakfast nook, watching the setting sun and trying to fight the frustration with himself and his inability to complete even the simplest tasks that involved his hands. He could feel Dr. Gunderson's eyes on him, but refused to meet her gaze.

The silence lingered at the table, broken only by the sounds of Jilly and Harry laughing softly as they continued their game.

Finally, Snape spoke into the silence, still scrutinizing the view out the window and refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "My hands did not pain me at all when I arrived at the Dursley's. Strange, because they were agonizing when I awoke in St. Mungo's. Now, however..." His challenging look landed on Dr. Gunserson's unblinking, understanding one. "It hurts to even move them."

"I see," Dr. Gunderson murmured, and her look changed from one of understanding to one of determination. She removed her wand from an inside pocket.

"Harry tells me that you're a potions master, Professor," she said conversationally, as she gently slid her hand beneath one of his own and raised it carefully off the table. Snape merely nodded. "I'm astonished," Dr. Gunderson continued as she performed an intricate bit of wand work. "You're so young – it normally takes a century or so of study to achieve master status."

As she continued her wand work, a warmth spread throughout Snape's hand and certain areas from his wrist to the tips of his fingers began to glow. "Have you worked on anything I might know?"

"Perhaps," Snape quietly replied. "I recently modified the Wolfsbane Potion to prevent–"

"–The victim from losing their awareness during the transformation. They become a warewolf but retain their human faculties and emotions." She turned his hand this way and that, examining his stiff movements and gently touching her wand to different points on Snape's skin. "That was a very skilled bit of potioneering. I'm impressed." She repeated the entire process on Snape's other hand and continued, "It's a shame that the ingredients to that particular potion are so costly. It could help a lot of people."

"I'm currently testing in an attempt to replace ingredients to those that are more widely available for specifically that reason," Snape responded. "Or, I was before all of this..."

"Well," Dr. Gunderson replied, placing his hand gently back on the table and finally meeting his eyes. "The good news is that you will eventually gain back full dexterity of your fingers."

Snape only cocker a brow, and she continued, "You were lucky – your magical core projected enough strength to allow you to get your son back. But I must say, those muggles must have put up quite a fight, because you severely inflamed your injuries; your core magic may even have unintentionally worsened them. I'm not sure how well they will respond to standard magical treatment after being flooded with that amount of core power. I don't want to take any risks – we've taken too many as it is. And gaining your dexterity and movement back is vital in your line of work. So I'm afraid we'll have to do this the old fashioned, muggle way.

"Madam Pomfrey," she said, glancing at the matron. "I will give you the movements and exercises that I wish the Professor to complete three times a week. I still want to see him once a month to check his progress. And Lily my dear," she said, turning to face her. Lily had a resolute look on her face as the doctor continued, "You will be a great asset in his recovery, with your experience working in muggle hospitals. But I must warn you, Professor," she intoned, her eyes glancing severely at Snape over the rims of her spectacles, her expression deadly serious. "It may take six months, or even up to a year for your fingers to regain their former responsiveness. In the meantime, I must insist that you refrain from any delicate work that you would normally do with your hands – that includes brewing potions and prepping ingredients, I'm afraid."

There was a long pause as all in attendance absorbed her words. Harry broke the silence from across the living room, his game with Jillian suddenly forgotten.

"But…" He uttered, sounding dumbfounded, "He teaches Potions! And he – he brews healing balms and treatments for the hospital wing!" His son jumped from the floor and rushed to his father's side, the guilt clear in his eyes. "Dad, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault–"

"Harry. Stop." Snape cut him off in the firmest tone he could muster, refusing to allow his son to take the burden of guilt upon himself. "I don't care about my hands. I would have gladly hacked them off myself to get to you." When his son still looked as if he wanted to argue the point, Snape attempted a comforting tone and said, "It's alright. We'll figure something out."

. . . . .

Shortly after giving her diagnosis, Dr. Gunderson was escorted by Madam Pomfrey to the mediwitch's office to discuss treatments and therapies for Snape's hands. Dumbledore had been close on their heels with some feeble excuse about vital work that needed to be completed. Snape had the feeling that the headmaster simply wasn't ready to deal with his livid potion master.

Snape say at the table, continuing to stare out the window as he contemplated his future. No potions for the next few months... Where exactly did that leave him? And not only that, but his stomach clenched at he thought about the Unbreakable Vow he had made with Narcissa Malfoy... He had yet to speak to Dumbledore about that, and after everything that had happened with Harry, he was almost angry enough to follow through with with the terms he had agreed to. Sighing deeply, Snape continued to brood on his life, which had somehow become even more complicated than it was before.

Lily suddenly interrupted Snape's dark musings. Although she affected an air of ignorance, he had a feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing when she placed her arms around his shoulders from behind and asked, "Would you like a tour of our new quarters?"

It was a large space, obviously created for someone with children. Snape supposed that the thought of someone bringing their extended family to Hogwarts wasn't too out of the ordinary - he remembered a teacher from his time here at Hogwarts that had a wife and three young children that used to accompany him to the castle during the school year. He never gave it much thought where they stayed, but now he realized it very well could have been here.

The quarters were spacious with round walls and high, vaulted ceilings. There was a large kitchen connected to the sitting room, with large windows that offered amazing vistas from all sides. Down a small hallway was Jillian's room, with a large, ornately carved canopy bed and plenty of space to play. The room after that was a modest guest room with yet another canopy bed, which Harry had been using since his arrival. Snape's sickroom was next to Harry's. There was a small bathroom at the end of the hall, and across the hall from the other bedrooms was the master suite.

"I have to admit, this is my favorite room of them all," Lily said, her eyes shining.

Snape could immediately understand why. The room was large with its own wooden canopy bed on a raised dais, as well as a writing desk and a small seating area overlooking the mountains and lake. Snape didn't get to admire the view for long however, as Lily excitedly grasped his hand and pointed upwards. It was only then that Snape realized that, like the Great Hall, it too had an enchanted ceiling.

"Dumbledore said he thought Jilly and I would appreciate the space in these quarters," Lily murmured, still staring up at the puffy clouds through the enchanted ceiling. "But really I think he remembered how much I loved the ceiling in the Great Hall." Her beautiful green eyes flicked to Snape's subdued black ones. "I know that technically you and Harry have your own places to stay during the school year. And I know that you have a role that you have to play around everyone else. But maybe..." She blushed prettily. "Maybe we can be a proper family on weekends. And you can come stay whenever you'd like, like at night when-"

Snape leaned over and kissed her full, sweet lips, cutting her off. "Is that all I am to you?" He asked quietly after a moment as he pulled away. His voice was serious but his eyes were filled with mischief. "A quick romp in the night?"

Lily smiled coyly, her eyes dancing. "I can find a replacement if you'd like. There are plenty of other-"

Snape kissed her again.