“Are you sure you want to do this, Abbott?” Draco asked. “We could leave you here and come and get you if we need you.”

“I’m sure,” Hannah said. “Harry saved my life, did you know? In the final battle. He cursed a Death Eater who almost killed me.”

“It’s your skin,” Draco said with a shrug.

Ron just looked grim. It was 3:45pm, and they were going to try and portkey in early.

Ron shook out Malfoy’s invisibility cloak. It was the best money could buy, but still nowhere near as nice as Harry’s. He threw it over the other two and himself as they hunched in front of the portkey.

“On the count of three then,” Draco commanded. “One, two, three!”

They were sucked momentarily into nothingness, their bodies squeezed, compressed, the air pushed from their lungs, and then the sensations eased. They spun back into existence at the edge of a forest. Trees were at their back, with fields all around. They were atop a small crest that overlooked a cottage. Wands drawn, all three of them looked around, still crouched together under the cloak. There was no immediate audible alarm signaling their arrival, no waiting witches or wizards with wands trained on their spot.

Inwardly, Ron heaved a sigh of relief. He was half certain they’d apparate into a dungeon somewhere and be trapped there. After fifteen minutes of waiting without moving, Draco signaled for them to stand. Ron’s legs burned, but as Draco was the Senior Auror, and he was the one who’d received the letter, it was his mission to command.

As planned, Draco tapped his wand on the top of Hannah’s head, then Ron’s, then his own. Immediately, they were all disillusioned. Ron pulled off the cloak and handed it to Hannah. She was not even supposed to be here. If the disillusionment charms were discovered by enemy forces, she could still Apparate out under the invisibility cloak. Ron and Malfoy had already thrown in their lot, but Hannah shouldn’t have to.

Malfoy insisted on going alone, encircling from north to south around the west side of the perimeter, checking for traps, hexes, and any other magical signatures. Ron and Hannah would check the eastern semicircle. They’d meet in the middle, at the back, and discuss their findings.

Ron was grateful to have Malfoy with him. He still didn’t love the git, by any means, but Draco WAS useful. Snape had taught Harry and Draco a lot, and thanks to that, Draco and Harry knew spells that, even as an Auror, Ron would probably never know or master. It was because of Draco that they were disillusioned; neither Ron nor Hannah could perform that complicated bit of magic.

Much to their relief, all was clear when they met up. It would have been easy to relax, assume it wasn’t a trap, assume the coast was clear. But that was a dead man’s folly. Instead, they made their way to the paddock surrounding the house and debated what to do. It was now 4:30pm, and without knowing the reason for the 8pm time slot, they had to make a choice. Go now and risk someone coming upon them, or wait, and let the potential enemy be ready for them. If it was a trap, it really wouldn’t matter when they arrived; no enemy would be stupid enough to wait for a specific time to spring said trap. 

And so they stepped forward. Ron had volunteered to give the key, in case the wards were cursed to suck someone in. That way, Draco would still have a chance to go after Snape if Ron was incapacitated.

Ron walked to the paddock, feeling the wash of magic shimmer around him. He put his hand out and found an invisible wall. “Severely hurt,” he murmured and, instantly, the outline of a door formed in the ward. He put his hand to it, pushed it open, waited for the telltale sign of magic acting upon the unsuspecting. Letting out his breath, he waved the others forward. They stepped through the wards and the door vanished. Draco led the way, Hannah in the middle, Ron behind, prepared for any attack that awaited them. There were never any guarantees in these kinds of raids; one never knew what the other side had up their sleeve.

When they arrived at the back door, Draco removed the disillusionment charm, his wand at the ready. He knocked three times.

A window curtain fluttered and a small, dark-haired woman looked out. Her eyes were wide, and she surveyed the yard around Draco nervously. The curtain fluttered back into place and the door opened a crack.

“State your name and your business,” she hissed.

Draco tilted his head. “Legilimens,” he whispered.

The woman’s eyes widened and the breath caught in her throat. Draco stared into her eyes intently and then gave a curt nod and released the spell. “I have come as instructed,” he said. With that, he opened the door fully and let himself in the house, Ron and Hannah following invisibly behind him.

Quickly, the woman locked the door in their wake.

“You must hurry,” she said, looking around nervously. “The sooner he is gone, the better. I don’t want any trouble.”

Draco nodded and, from his posture, Ron could tell that he was still on full alert, as any well-trained Auror would be. “Lead the way,” he said.

She shuffled down a short hallway and came to a dead end. There were doors on either side, but she didn’t turn toward them. Instead, she said, “I cannot go any further. Only you can. But you must know the code. The number.”

Draco gazed at the woman, who quickly put up her hands. “I do not know it,” she said. “I am just a Squib. Please, hurry. Take him away. He isn’t safe here. He isn’t safe anywhere.”

“Wait here,” Draco instructed, and Ron knew that the instruction was for him and Hannah, as well as the woman.

Ron was covering Draco’s back, while Hannah had her wand trained on the woman in case she made any sudden moves. The woman stood by fretfully, wringing her hands, her head bowed.

Draco studied the wall a little longer and then he tapped three times and said, in his silky voice, “Eight, eight, can’t be late.” The wall shimmered, glowed, and then disappeared.

Behind it lay a small, lamp-lit room with an earthen floor and bare walls. Against the far wall was a thin mattress with a shape huddled on it.

Ron caught his breath, hope beating strong in his heart. What he wouldn’t do to find Snape and give him back to Harry. If it WAS Snape.

Draco stepped cautiously into the room, while Ron stood in the entranceway, his wand ready in case it was a trick. Draco stopped just short of the bed, casting a spell to remove the blanket that covered the lump, tension etched in every line and muscle in his body.

The blanket gone, a man lay in a muddle of dirty, torn robes, unmoving. “Professor,” Draco said coldly. “Professor, I need you to look at me.”

A groan sounded and the man’s head shifted upward, black eyes slitting open. Ron saw Draco twitch, but Draco didn’t move any closer.

“Professor,” Draco said, his wand still trained on the man, “what did you give me for my eighth birthday?”

“Eight. Cauldron. Cakes,” The man rasped out.

Draco’s shoulders sagged and he rushed forward, reaching out to the man on the bed. “Severus,” he cried.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

“Severus?” Draco asked.

“Broken. Back,” he gasped. “Paralyzed. Careful.”

“Weasley,” Draco commanded glancing toward the hallway. “Guard the door. And the woman. Abbott, stabilize Professor Snape for Apparition.”

Hannah rushed forward, scanning him quickly with her wand. “Draco,” she said, her voice a shocked whisper. “He’s… his fractures aren’t stable. I…”

Draco looked at her desperately. “We don’t have time. Do the best you can to stabilize him so we can get him out of here. Then you can have all the time you need to work on him.”

Hannah looked distraught. “If we move him now, the damage could be permanent.”

“We don’t have a choice,” said Draco.

Nodding, Hannah reached inside her robes. “Professor, I have a couple of potions here. The first is a pain relieving potion.” She went to hand it to him, but he didn’t move.

“Hands. Arms. Broken.”

The woman from the door let out a sob. “I’m just a Squib,” she cried. “I couldn’t help him.”

“Alright, Professor,” Hannah said. “Can you swallow?”

“Yes.”

“Is your neck injured?”

“Yes. But. Not. Broken.”

“Let’s see if you can drink this lying down, shall we?” She tipped the vial slowly into his mouth and he tried to drink, but much of it dribbled onto the pillow beside him. Severus groaned.

“Ok,” she said. “I will just spell it into your stomach. It isn’t as effective that way, but it’s better than nothing.”

She proceeded to spell a pain reliever, muscle relaxant, and a light sedative into Severus’s stomach.

“Hurry,” Draco demanded, tapping his foot, his arms crossed.

“Professor, try and relax. I am going to align your broken bones. I don’t have time to heal them, but as long as they don’t get more misaligned, you should be alright.”

Hannah waved her wand in several complex motions, murmuring words that Ron didn’t understand. Severus groaned loudly as his body seemed to lengthen, to straighten and stretch out, until he was lying, perfectly straight, flat on his back, on the pallet.

“One more spell,” she whispered, “then we can go.” Hannah glanced at Ron and Draco. “Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Draco said with a nod.

Ron swished his wand in the air at the woman, whispering, “Obliviate.” Then he joined the other two at the bedside.

Hannah swallowed. “I’m sorry, Professor, but it’s the only way.”

Severus met her gaze, seeming to understand, as horror flashed in his obsidian eyes.

“Petrificus totalus!”

Severus’s agonized screams followed them into the whipcord of Apparition.

Hannah was already summoning cushioning charms before they’d fully come to a stop so that when Snape fell, he didn’t land on the hard flagstones of Malfoy Manor.

“He’s critical,” she shouted. “I need a place to work on him.”

“The dining hall,” Draco said. “It’s closest.”

Ron ran ahead, making sure the way was clear.

Hannah levitated Snape onto the ornate wooden dining table. “He’s passed out, but I imagine he’ll wake soon. Ron, set out my potions. Draco, try and talk to him. He’s going to be hard to handle.”

Hannah and Ron worked swiftly, Hannah stopping internal bleeding and healing broken bones while Ron dosed him with potions as directed.

“Blimey, am I glad we brought you,” Ron muttered.

“Indeed,” Malfoy chimed in. “He’s waking up.”

“You might need to hold him down,” Hannah said.

Draco put his hands on Snape’s shoulders and leaned down, whispering to the man as his eyelids fluttered and he moaned.

The next three hours went much the same way, until Snape was resting as comfortably as possible, and Draco, Ron, and Hannah were spent.

“He’s stable,” Hannah declared, wiping her brow. “He can be moved to a bed now. Hard mattress, though, nothing soft. No feather beds.”

Draco nodded. “There’s a guest bedroom just down the corridor. Let me get it ready.”

Ron arrived back at the manor at around ten that evening, looking drained but relieved. Hermione, upon seeing him, burst into tears and flung his arms around him. “Harry’s gone to sleep,” she said.

Ron nodded, extracting himself. “I’m knackered, Hermione, let’s go to bed.”

Hermione bit her lip, eager to hear the news. But it must be good news, or at least partially good, because Ron came back and he didn’t look devastated. “Alright, Ron,” she said, “lead the way.”

Once inside their rooms, Ron cast silencing and locking charms, and then collapsed on the bed.

“He’s alive and we’ve got him,” Ron said, a beefy forearm thrown over his eyes.

“How bad is it?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“Bad,” Ron said. “He’d be better off at St. Mungo’s but it isn’t safe. He’s at Malfoy’s, and Hannah and Draco are looking after him.”

“Will he live?” Hermione asked.

“Looks like,” Ron replied. “But he may never walk again.”

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, Ron…” she said. “That’s awful. Snape, he wouldn’t…”

“He’s a proud man,” Ron observed. “I don’t think he’d want to live that way.”

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. “That’s why he didn’t want Harry to know,” Hermione reasoned. “He didn’t want Harry to see him like that.”

“That would be my guess,” Ron replied.

“Is there anything that can be done?” Hermione asked.

“Hannah’s working on it. That’s all I know. She fixed up everything that could be fixed, and he’s resting comfortably. He’s not awake yet.”

“How did he escape, anyway?”

“He says one of his jailers had a change of heart. Says she stunned the other two and took him to her sister‘s. Left him in her charge. The sister‘s a Squib, though, so not much help there. But she did write that letter for him.”

Hermione shook her head. “I can‘t even imagine.” She laid her head on Ron‘s shoulder. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a trap,” Hermione breathed.

“You and me both.”

“Merlin, I feel horrible keeping this from Harry,” Hermione lamented.

“I know, me too. But for the moment, I think it’s for his own good. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. I won’t keep it from him if…” Ron let the words trail off. “I mean, if, if things take a turn for the worse. Harry has a right to say good-bye, if it comes to that. If not, if Snape’s stable, then I reckon he can decide the terms.” Ron yawned. “Assuming, that is, that he’s reasonable. If he’s going to be a prat about it, then all bets are off. Harry deserves to know and I won’t keep it from him more than a couple of days.”

“I agree,” said Hermione. “It wouldn’t be fair to Harry.”

“Your nutrient potion, sir,” Hannah said, handing Snape the vial. “I also have some broth for you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Abbott,” Severus replied. “I appreciate all of your efforts.”

Hannah put her hand on her former professor’s shoulder. “You are more than welcome. We all just want to see you well.”

Hannah took her leave and Draco slid into the chair beside Severus, reaching out and taking the wizard’s hand in his.

“You gave us a right scare, old man,” Draco said.

“Watch who you are calling old,” Severus retorted.

Draco snorted. “It’s so good to see you, sir,” Draco said, squeezing his hand softly, conscious of the man’s recent injuries. “Harry is going to be so…”

Severus had turned away at the sound of Harry’s name. “No.”

“No?” Draco asked, releasing the man‘s hand.

“Not Harry. He cannot know.”

“Why not?”

“I…” Severus drew in a breath. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Professor,” Draco moaned. “You know Harry won’t care. Hell, he’ll be the first to volunteer to be your full-time nurse!”

“Which is exactly why he can’t know,” Severus decreed.

Draco pondered this. He understood that the man had his pride, but this was ridiculous. It had been three years. “Sir,” Draco said carefully. “You can’t imagine what it’s been like. For us. For Harry.”

Severus stared at him in disbelief.

Draco swallowed convulsively. “My apologies, sir. That was presumptuous of me. I am sure your incarceration was a thousand times worse than anything we ever suffered.”

Severus looked away.

“Nonetheless,” Draco continued, “Potter, well, you know what he’s like. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He hasn’t been the same since you were taken. At first, he went on every mission, searching for you. When he wasn’t with the Aurors, he refused to leave his home, in case some message came from you. And after a while, when we ran out of leads, he just shut down. He hasn’t left his manor in two YEARS, sir. It’s like he’s holding vigil for you.”

“Stop,” Severus said, his voice pained. His breathing was rapid, shallow. He dragged an arm across his eyes.

Draco looked away, not wanting to intrude on the man’s emotions. He squeezed Snape’s shoulder. “I apologize,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to push. Clearly, you need time to heal.”

Severus nodded once.

“I’ll let you get some rest, sir. I’ll stop back with lunch, alright?”

“Thank you,” Severus said, his voice choked.

Ron and Hermione took their lunch at Malfoy Manor with Draco.

“How is he?” Hermione asked. “Can we see him?”

Draco sat primly in his seat as a house-elf served him his meal. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Draco said. “Physically, he’s better. Emotionally, not so much.”

“Oh,” Hermione said looking down at her plate. “The things they must have done to him…”

“I don’t even think it’s that,” Draco replied. “Sad to say, but he’s used to that from his Death Eater days.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

“He’s afraid to let Potter see him. Or maybe he’s afraid to see Potter. I’m not sure.”

“Bollocks,” Ron said. “Of all the things we worried about, Snape not wanting to see Harry wasn’t one of them.”

Hermione sighed unhappily. “We have to find a way to fix this,” she said. “I can’t keep something this important from Harry.”

“Neither can I,” said Ron. “Not for long. Not without good reason. Harry would never forgive us, and I can’t blame him.”

“Gryffindors,” Draco muttered.

“That’s it,” Hermione said brightening. “It’s an honor thing, right? He needs some Slytherin way of keeping his pride and dignity. If he could have that, Draco, do you think he’d be willing to see Harry?”

“Possibly,” Draco conceded. “Did you have something specific in mind?”