~~~~SS~~~~

His entire body was aching - most of which was coming from his rib that Lucius had kicked back in Hogsmeade - as Severus sat tightly bound from his chest to his feet to a chair in the extravagantly decorated guest house on the property of Malfoy Manor. Disapparation under a full body-bind is not forgiving on the body in the slightest and it was even worse with his damaged rib that was now being crushed by the ropes holding him and making it difficult to breathe. He didn't panic though. He'd had enough self-training to know that panicking in a situation like this would not yield the results he wanted and would only aid in him passing out, which was the last thing he needed to get out of this situation alive.

Oddly, Rabastan Lastrange was waiting for the pair of wizards just inside the anti-apparation wards and assisted the Malfoy Patriarch in moving Severus's frozen body into the guest house on the property. If he'd been able to move, he would probably have questioned - or taunted for good measure - why he wasn't being taken straight to the Dark Lord in the main house, but he was not removed from the body-bind until he was completely tied up, at which point he was in too much pain to waste his energy on questions that wouldn't ultimately improve his situation.

"Not quite what we were expecting," the younger Lastrange brother stated, walking around Severus's chair, "but the end result is the same. Potter would have been a nice addition though."

"Now, now, let's not be greedy, Rabastan," Lucius reprimanded. "We've gotten what the Dark Lord has requested."

Being spoken about like a prize or a piece of meat was nauseating. Going through all the scenarios in his mind, he knew at a bare minimum he wouldn't be killed; he had a purpose here after all. The best he could hope for was that the guard he knew was still monitoring the premises had somehow seen him arrive and alerted the Order, so at least someone knew he was here. It would take time to get a rescue mission in place and until then, he needed to stay put and do what was asked, or at least make it appear that way; he knew plenty of ways to slow down the brewing process if it was needed. He'd buy himself as much time as he could give the Order to hopefully orchestrate his rescue, meaning he could now focus on the immediate threat: Draco had officially failed his task. Unwilling to let either of the wizards surrounding him know that he knew this fact, he sat silent picking up any information he could gather from his surroundings and their loose tongues.

"You can call him?" The blonde cryptically asked.

"Of course I can," Rabastan answered with a sickening smile, "unbeknownst to him, that bracelet will summon him to my side as soon as he walks outside of the Hogwarts' wards."

Severus's stomach dropped as he realized they were talking about Draco and not the Dark Lord. A quick glance at the taller Death Eater's wrist confirmed that he was wearing the same bracelet as he'd given his protégé - the one that was supposed to be used as a port key for his own capture - and would apparently work as a modified dark mark for Rabastan's call. When the bracelet would start to burn, unable to transport the teen in Hogwarts' wards, he wouldn't know what to do unless he'd known the bracelets capabilities. Basically, Draco was going to be called to his death and he wouldn't even know how to answer the damn call.

As the minutes ticked by after Rabastan used his wand to summon the young Death Eater, Severus's own resolve slowly increased. He needed to stay focused, not only for himself, but for Draco's sake. Within that timeframe he found himself hoping - an activity he found himself doing more often as of late - that Draco would inherently know that something was wrong and seek out help in the castle. However, no matter how he looked at it, without his own presence there, he doubted the teen would go to Minerva or Albus and therefore wouldn't exactly know what else to do. His heart ached and his anxiety increased tenfold, when Draco finally appeared before them. The young wizard was interestingly still in his school uniform, though looking more disheveled than expected, drawing Severus's curiosity on where his Slytherin charge had been this entire time.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Draco yelled the second he realized where he was and saw Severus tied to a chair. "What is he doing here?"

"Draco," Lucius called his son over and gave him an awkward side hug that made the professor cringe inside, "I expressed my… concern… with Rabastan about the Dark Lord growing impatient with your lack of progress on the task you had been given. He assured me you were taken care of, however we made certain arrangements to assist you."

Betrayal flashed across Draco's face which changed to satisfaction so quickly that Severus found himself proud of the teen's ability to keep his cover under the circumstances. If they both made it out of this alive, he made a mental note to tell him such. In all his years, he'd seen men far beyond Draco's experience crumble under less pressure than what the new spy was experiencing. However, it was in that small flash of betrayal that Severus knew Draco had nothing to do with whatever plan the two Death Eaters came up with erasing that small kernel of doubt in his mind.

"You're welcome, Draco," Rabastan arrogantly said, approaching the teen in a manner that sickened Severus's stomach further. "Now shall we get on with this?"

The fear that was seen behind Draco's mask was what finally broke Severus's silence, "Is anyone going to… tell me... what's going on?"

His voice was raspy and quiet from his injured rib, but it had the desired effect. All three Slytherin Death Eaters turned as if they'd forgotten he had been able to speak this entire time and simply chose not to.

"You, our dear traitor," Rabastan left Draco's side and sauntered up to Severus's chair, "will be presented to our Dark Lord for whatever it is he requires your assistance on."

"And how does-," he challenged with a grimace of pain, "-Draco fit into this plan?"

"That's the beauty of it," Lucius watched his son carefully, "he'll be the one presenting you."

Nothing good could come of this, but he wasn't about to show his hand by saying that out loud. The Dark Lord obviously had to know enough of the plan and to be involved in sending the vision to Harry - the event Severus assumed jump started this entire ordeal - however unless Draco knew about it, Voldemort would pick up on his ignorance of the details; especially if he performed Legilimency as he tended to do in instances like these. The professor had no idea where the teenage Slytherin had been, but he doubted he knew anything about the vision itself and it seemed like neither of the idiotic Death Eaters had thought that far into their plan.

"Won't the Dark Lord know he had no previous knowledge of your scheme?"

The quiet celebratory murmurs ceased instantly as they acknowledged the glaring hole in their plan. Had they walked into the main Manor now, Draco would probably be killed. Depending on how well the sixteen year old was at Occlumency, he may still get killed, but he wasn't about to point that error out. Lucius had gone behind his master's back to aid his son in hopes of preventing that fate, and Severus had every intention of exploiting it to his benefit when the time was right.

The observation earned him a hard hit across his already aching chest with Lucius's staff that was so hard he was surprised he'd stayed conscious afterwards, and more than a small part of him wished he hadn't. He wouldn't be able to accomplish his goal of getting Draco prepared to stand before the Dark Lord and not only lie about his position, but completely fabricate a mission as his own. Even Severus wasn't that suicidal and he silently cursed the Malfoy patriarch for his feeble attempt to get involved. The pain now radiating from his - by now surely broken - rib was worth it to hear Rabastan and Lucius bring the young Slytherin up to speed on what had happened: everything from the memories they saw of Severus and Harry during the Occlumency attack suggesting that the two of them had become close, to the memories they had Voldemort send to Harry - at which point the former spy was sure he caught a small look of understanding from the young blonde wizard - then the fact that they assumed Harry would be the one to leave the Hogwarts grounds first due to his legendary overly emotional reactions - Severus couldn't deny that, he still had no idea if Harry had ever been found at the school - and finally how they planned to use the Gryffindor as bait before handing him over with Severus, but the professor had emerged from the school first.

"So wait a minute," Draco said insultingly to Rabastan as they were getting ready to take the trek to the Manor, "if you told the Dark Lord to send those visions, then he already knows it wasn't me and I'm basically a deadman walking!"

"Draco," Rabastan winked at the boy, "I was specifically told to take you under my wing and in doing so, he fully understands you may not have come up with all of this yourself, but when you walk in with the prize-" he turned to Severus, "-all else will be forgotten. He needs these potions and for some reason only the traitor can provide them."

The professor could have gone into how complicated they were to accurately brew, though no one in that room - outside of, maybe, Draco - would have cared. The ability to brew those potions was the only thing keeping him alive and he needed it to stay that way if he had any chance at ensuring the teen's safety.

The fear from Draco's steel eyes could not be hidden, but luckily his two captors were too busy regaling in their victory to take notice. It tore him apart inside to know that Lucius had gone so far as to put himself directly in the Dark Lord's path by his insubordination - from his desire to help his son - yet failed to see how all of this was affecting the young wizard inside. It was obvious that he didn't want to be here; he didn't want to deliver his professor ultimately to his death, though admittedly that wouldn't be until the evil wizard was cured from the cancer. Severus wasn't too caught up in that last part, he had plenty of time to find a way out before he was killed; in his old reality, Harry's potions would have lasted for over two years had it not turned around for the worst so quickly.

"Let's get this over with," Draco spat, walking up to Severus with a look of pure disgust, "I guess you're mine."

It chilled him to his core to feel the hate and resentment pouring out of Draco as he untied the portion of his bindings that would allow him to stand from the chair. He wouldn't try to run, though letting Draco handle a prisoner such as himself was likely a bad idea overall. The young wizard was just that: young and naive, and Severus could have escaped his bindings had it been to his advantage to do so. Without his wand, he didn't like his chances against both Lucius and Rabastan. One or the other, he trusted himself to physically take down, but both - while trying to keep Draco safe - was not a smart move. So he walked cooperatively, or as much as would be expected given his current circumstances and his broken rib, every so often trying half-heartedly to pull out of his young "captor's" light grip. Lucius was leading the way out of the guest house and towards the Manor with Rabastan - the stronger of the two wizards - following behind keeping a keen eye on the pair in the middle.

"He's alright," Draco whispered into Severus's right ear when the young wizard conveniently pulled on his bindings as if to reign him in. "He's pissed off, but he's safe."

Severus didn't dare react to the message, except to pull a little harder to try to break to his freedom. The walk to the main house was dark, as it was likely approaching midnight, and frigidly cold. In his weakened state, he couldn't hold back his body from shivering and each small movement sent a wave of agonizing pain from his chest all the way around his body. At this point, he'd prefer to be before the Dark Lord inside than shivering outside walking. They passed through the gardens and around the hedge maze that he always found one of the most ridiculous features, after the peacocks of course, that the Malfoy's cherished. A rush of grief coursed through his body when he walked right by the spot where he and Lucius found their sixteen year old sons with the Dragon Dust in his old reality and somehow, even given the fate he was currently facing, he preferred to be here than back in that time. Here, Harry had a chance to live even if the professor wouldn't survive. Unfortunately, experience had taught him that there was a better chance than not that he wouldn't walk out of Malfoy Manor after stepping foot inside. The most likely scenario was that the Dark Lord would get frustrated with the slow progress and constant potions he'd need to take and would eventually kill him outright. He'd live longer than Matthew, though, because the potions would make him feel better, he would just need them for a longer period of time than Severus was sure he expected.

Similar to Grimmauld Place, Severus hated Malfoy Manor. It was old, pretentious, and filled with an aura of Dark Magic throughout every corridor and that was before the Dark Lord took up residence here. Now, it was dark, drafty, and not all the inviting Christmas filled place he remembered last seeing it, as if Narcissa's warm touch had been removed from every piece of delicate furniture, expensive paintings adorning the walls, or chandeliers filled with candles that were hardly ever used.

Predictably, he was taken to the dining room or what had previously been the dining room. Now it was an empty, open space with no other furniture besides a set of armchairs by the large fireplace. With a wave of his wand, Lucius lit the fire which casted an eerie glow over the room before lighting the large chandelier above their heads.

Severus was standing beside Draco - who had sloppily let go of his bindings - until Rabastan came up behind him and kicked the back of his knees, causing the professor to fall to the floor. The last time he'd been in this position was the morning of the first Privet Drive attack. Ironically, he'd be leaving this room in much the same way: to be imprisoned while he brewed potions for the dark wizard.

"Call him," Rabastan ordered Draco, though Lucius misunderstood and lifted his own sleeve, "Not you. Draco!"

"Of course," the Patriarch embarrassingly said and gestured to his son, "Go ahead, Draco, this is your moment."

Time seemed to stand still as Draco unbuttoned and rolled up the left sleeve of his school shirt to reveal the dark black mark that never should have been there to begin with. He should have fought harder to get Draco into hiding back in July; yes they managed to get some information - like saving the Smithe's and learning of this headquarters to begin with - but at what cost? They robbed a teenage boy of his innocence and forced him into a position where he had to kill two people. It was different from Severus's own position, he chose to join. While Draco may have wanted the Death Eater life a year ago and chose to switch sides originally to keep himself from Azkaban, he'd made great strides in the last eight months and Severus could see he no longer believed in any of their propaganda. Unfortunately, that was about to be tested in the worst possible way and the former spy was terrified what would be discovered.

The air shifted in the moments after Draco touched his Dark Mark and when the black smoke appeared around him, he knew this was it.

"Severus," that raspy voice called his name, sending disdain through his veins, "though it seems you have a purpose after all… that doesn't mean we can't have some fun first."

The former Death Eater steeled his jaw knowing exactly what was coming up next and there wasn't a single thing he could do to stop it.

"Crucio!"

~~~~HP~~~~

In the moment when Dumbledore told him that they'd managed to confirm that Snape had been captured, Harry had a whole range of emotions pour through him. First and foremost, he was still angry with the former Death Eater-turned-spy for his role in orphaning him, which was why his overall panic about the man's capture confused him. He shouldn't care what happened to him, except no matter how hard he tried he ultimately didn't like the fact that the professor was currently in Voldemort's clutches.

As he'd expected all along - for different reasons than any of the people in the hospital wing thought - he was moved to Professor McGonagall's quarters once Madam Pomfrey replaced his feeding tube and he was released.

"The Order will get him home, Harry," his guardian said after helping get him settled in her guest room for the night. Madam Pomfrey had just left from setting up the overnight nutrients - since McGonagall didn't know how to do that - and Dobby had delivered his things from his old bedroom in the dungeons. "I can't promise it will be quick, but we'll bring him home."

He couldn't find his voice to answer, so he nodded. She would think he was still upset about the professor's capture and since he didn't even know how he felt about it all, he was ok with that. Confused, that was his overall disposition. Before leaving the Room of Requirement, he wasn't sure he wanted to see Snape again, but now he found himself wanting to have it out with the man. To question how he could sit there day in and day out next to Harry with this secret sitting between them, how he could lead Harry on about living in a different world as his father and building something like - but not exactly - that here and not have a centimeter of guilt about it all. Had his counterpart in Snape's old reality known or had the professor been able to adopt him without ever saying a word about his own contribution to the situation? Suddenly, the young wizard was sick to his stomach and for once it had nothing to do with Leukemia.

"What about Draco?" Harry asked so quickly it made the elderly professor jump a bit on the end of his bed. Of course he'd told them all about the two of them dueling in the Room of Requirement - causing Snape not to see him on the Marauder's Map - and the strange burning from the bracelet Draco had been wearing. Dumbledore himself went out to look for the Slytherin, but hadn't returned before Harry left the hospital wing with McGonagall.

"There was no sign of him on the school grounds or in Hogsmeade," she said sadly. "The Order is out looking for him too. Are you certain he didn't-"

"No," Harry quickly interrupted her accusation before she could finish. There was no way Draco could have known what was going on because Harry had interrupted where he was headed and basically forced him to the Room to duel. He hadn't been in contact with anyone and no matter how powerful Voldemort thought he was, there was no way he could have predicted that Draco and Harry would have crossed paths at that exact moment or that Harry would have been the one to decide to go to the Room where they would be hidden. "He had nothing to do with it. You'll have to trust me on this one, there's no way he could have had any contact with his father or the other Death Eater. He was scared when that thing started burning and I got the feeling he had no idea what it would do."

"Thank you, Harry," she patronizingly patted his right knee. "Your word will be very important whenever we do find him." If he's still alive, hung heavily between them. "Try to get some rest tonight."

Harry sat up awake long after the professor left for her own bedroom. The room was just like the last time he stayed there, even the bed was the same and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was still in his room back home - no, in the dungeons. At first he tried to sketch, but his mind was racing too fast with the events of the day he couldn't focus enough to apply his pencil to the paper. Then he tried to read, but now that he wouldn't be attending classes anymore, there wasn't much use in reading any of his textbooks and he didn't really have any recreational reading with him. In the end, he pulled out the box of pictures of his mum - trying to ignore the fact that they were from Snape - along with the photo album from Hagrid at the end of his first year, and he thought about what life would have been like if Snape never overheard that prophecy. Or even better, if the man had some kind of conscience at that time and decided not to send a crazed dark wizard after a small child. He couldn't help it, and didn't even try to stop the tears as they fell from his eyes. Yes, he'd made the best of the hand he'd been dealt, but friends and pseudo-family didn't make up for the loss of his parents. That night it felt like he'd lost them all over again on top of losing the one person who had slowly started to fill that always aching void in his heart where they should have been.

Harry fell asleep still clutching the pictures of his parents in his hands with his cheeks stained by the trails of his tears. The young wizard had no idea that the adrenaline from night had masked the growing pain from his magical core that was burning out due to its overuse in the duel against Draco coming so close after his magical testing. Sometime around one o'clock in the morning - not long after Snape's torture was starting 500 miles away at Malfoy Manor - he was awoken to a sharp, firey, stabbing pain that pulsed through him like hot coals. He burst out of his bed for the lavatory, making it just in time to vomit into the loo from the pain.

In the process of making his way to the lavatory, he'd managed to pull his feeding tube out yet again; this time the discomfort was nothing compared to what was happening inside of him. Trying to be quiet and not wake the professor sleeping in the room not far from where he was, he bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming, but when he tasted the coppery blood instinctively he released it and could no longer contain his screams. It felt like an hour passed - but was probably only five minutes - before McGonagall hurried into the lavatory having been woken up by the blood curdling scream. She was tightly wrapped in her tartan dressing gown and her long grey hair was held loosely in a plait down her back. She kneeled down beside Harry, who was laying in the fetal position on the tiled floor, writhing in pain, and placed her aged hand on his shoulder.

"Harry," she called out to him, "tell me what's wrong."

He was shivering but sweating, and only managed to shake his head before curling up trying to fold himself in half to ease the pain in his stomach. Feeling guilty from the scared and worried look that crossed his guardian's face, he pressed his head back into the floor trying to find any position that would give him just a little relief. The sound of McGonagall talking reached his ears, however she sounded like she was submerged under the black lake and he couldn't hear a single thing she'd said to him. All he could do was keep shaking his head back and forth hoping someone would know that he was not ok; that something was very wrong with him.

Her warmth suddenly left his side and with it left his chest feeling cold as he laid on the floor shivering and alone. Snape. Even after everything that had happened, at that moment he wanted McGonagall to return with the one person who would know how to make this better. The man he'd been so furious with was somehow the only one he knew that could fix this. When Professor McGonagall returned, she was not alone, but she hadn't brought Snape. No one could bring him because he was miles away in Voldemort's hands. Instead the Transfiguration Professor brought back the only two other people who would be able to help him: Madam Pomfrey and Dr Swanson.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

He tried to nod his head at his muggle doctor, because he did hear her and was able to understand, but all he managed was a groan. Cracking his eyes open, everything around him was fuzzy - from his lack of glasses - and their quick movements over his head was disorienting. In all the commotion, he couldn't even tell which way was up.

"Can you get him back to his bed?" He heard Dr Swanson's commanding voice ask before his entire world went black.

~~~~SS~~~~

The former Death Eater had known he wouldn't be killed the moment his feet touched the soil at Malfoy Manor, however that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't get close to it. In fact, though there had been more times than Severus wanted to admit that he'd wished he died, none of them compared to the way he currently felt after rounds of curses from the Dark Lord that night. His broken rib was now accompanied by two more making it nearly impossible to breathe, his nose was bleeding from hitting it against the marble floor too many times, and his whole body shook so badly from the Cruciatus Curse that he didn't know if he'd be able to prepare the ingredients for the potions he'd been brought to brew. He was tired, he was hurt, yet he refused to give in and beg for mercy.

At some point - he had no reference of time while in the dining room - Lucius and Rabastan had joined the sardonic dark wizard in throwing out the curses, each one trying to overshadow the other. To get through the night, the former spy called upon his Occlumency to hide away in the far recesses of his mind and detach himself as much as possible. It wasn't until the Dark Lord called upon Draco to start that Severus pulled out of that state and back into the harsh reality he was living through.

Draco's slight hesitation wasn't missed by any of the full grown wizards in the dining room that night.

"Draco," Lucius sharply warned through his clenched teeth, "do it now!"

Those three words strengthened the teen's resolve as he peered around the room taking in his own reality. He was being celebrated as a successful Death Eater for orchestrating the mission that captured their elusive traitor. In a single night he was once again being used to pay for what his father had failed to do himself less than a year ago at the Department of Mysteries. Severus hoped that Lucius could recognize the fear in his son's eyes beneath a mask of courage as he approached the injured professor, barely able to kneel on the ground, and brandished his Hawthorne wand.

The two of them - mentor and protégé - made eye contact and Severus gave a small, almost imperceptible nod letting Draco know that he had to act. If not, there would be no way he could get them out of this mess because they'd both be dead. The teenager would need to pull up his perseverance and attack, similar to what he did during the final duel against Hermione. Unfortunately, this situation was too different than standing across the classroom from his girlfriend, where her own competitive nature allowed him the knowledge that she wouldn't hesitate to attack him first. Here he was expected to attack someone who was unarmed and would not fight back; it was not self defense, it was torture.

"Crucio."

They all knew the curse was half-hearted at best, and the red streak of light barely caused a ripple of shock through Severus's body. The anxiety the false alarm caused him was almost worse than the curse itself. The former spy would have faked his reaction had he not thought it would draw more attention to the young wizard's mistake.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord sauntered over to the Malfoy Patriarch, "it seems your young heir is having second thoughts. Perhaps he's not loyal to our cause any longer?"

"No, my Lord," the older blonde reassured. "He's…"

"Crucio!"

The implications of what had been said pushed Draco in the right direction and this time his curse shot straight through Severus's body firing every last nerve from his head to his feet. The teen's young pointed face had a mixture of disgust and regret painted across it that he hoped would be taken as disgust to Severus and regret for not having done it right the first time. During those painful moments, the former spy tried to stay focused on the pride and respect he had for the young wizard, knowing exactly how difficult it was to be placed in the position he was standing in. To turn your wand on someone who's helped you, regardless of the bumps along the way, was one of the most difficult of tasks.

"Young Draco," Voldemort called out to him and the curse finally fell, releasing Severus from his personal hell. "Approach."

If he weren't still recovering from the pain of the hexes he'd been subjected to, he would be terrified for the young wizard. They all knew what was coming up; the Dark Lord was going to test the teen. Severus had no idea how long he'd been laying on the floor, it could have been two or three in the morning, or still only just past midnight, but he knew Draco had to be tired and that would not bode well for his young mind.

It looked as painful as he remembered his own experiences with Legilimency being with the Dark Lord. Draco's pale face started to bead with sweat as the most evil wizard of their time ripped through his mind attempting to verify his loyalty and his honesty. It had been a while since Severus had tested the young Slytherin's Occlumency shields and he held his breath waiting to see what would come out of the scene in front of him. In the worst case scenario, his association with the Order would be uncovered, which was why they had compartmentalized the information away and therefore while it wouldn't help Draco, it would ultimately keep the Order safe and that was any operative's first priority.

For the rest of his life, Severus would be haunted by the screams that came from his student that night and he almost questioned which was worse: watching the ordeal or being Draco living through each memory that was shuffled before his eyes. While the professor didn't necessarily care how much pain and anguish he caused Alton when he did this same activity to the healer all those months ago, in the back of his mind it was still his friend, and he wasn't nearly as harsh as he could have been. Draco would not be given that small morsel of respect from the Dark Lord and it showed both on his face - as it went from stressed to anxious to pain filled - or in his voice, that started with just a whimper and grew to a groan, then a yell, until finally he started screaming. It was the last level that would forever stay with Severus as the moment he failed; not because in the end it was clear that Draco had been forced to give up secrets he had wanted to keep silent, but because the child should not have been in that situation to begin with.

When the young blonde finally fell to the floor, where he immediately curled into a fetal position - a common reaction after one's mind was ripped through so violently - they knew it was all over and that the Dark Lord had uncovered something he wasn't supposed to see. Lucius was standing directly behind the professor, holding him just in case he happened to be strong enough to leave - which he absolutely was not - and the older wizard's grip drastically tightened as Voldemort's sickening smile grew.

"Your protégé and heir has been less than honest with you both," he called out and nonverbally cast Expelliarmus and simultaneously Incarcerous to bind Draco without his wand.

"My Lord," it was Rabastan that spoke up this time. "I don't-"

"Crucio!"

The largest Death Eater was brought down writhing in pain as the curse was held for half a minute.

"How has he managed to fool us all?" Voldemort rhetorically asked as he walked back up to the scared teen now bound onto the floor. "It seems he has been against us even before he was rewarded with my mark."

Pure revulsion and defiance crossed Draco's face and Severus wished he could tell the young wizard not to fight. If he knew the Dark Lord as well as he did, there would be no swift death; he would want an explanation and to taunt his capture as much as possible. That time could be used to stall and work out a plan to save Draco.

"It's no wonder you could not kill Charlie Weasley," the evil wizard continued, "I knew I should have killed you then."

As Voldemort raised his ivory wand over the short mop of blonde hair, Draco ducked his head, while simultaneously Lucius's grip on Severus's shoulders tightened so much that he was sure he'd have the crescent moon shapes from the Death Eater's short fingernails marked into his skin. This was good though, Lucius being thrown off balance could be beneficial and it was obvious the Patriarch did not know of Draco's subterfuge before this moment.

"But he also has provided me with the most useful of information from any of my followers," Upon hearing this declaration, Severus's blood ran cold. As quickly as he could, the professor ran through all the information he knew the young spy had been privy to and nothing he came up with matched the pure elation that was plastered across the dark wizard's face. It was as if he'd found the meaning to life and was clinging onto it.

Finally, using the wand that he'd been waving threateningly throughout the whole ordeal, the Dark Lord levitated Draco up off the floor like a rag-doll being dragged from room to room by its owner. Forcing the young Slytherin to remain still, he performed another round of Legilimency. If possible, this time looked more painful than the last; this time the sadistic wizard knew he was dealing with a second traitor and knew exactly what he was looking for. And this time when it ended, Draco crashed to the floor and started vomiting. Severus felt Lucius shift behind him as if wanting to run to his son's side, but he stood tall still holding tightly to his shoulders.

"Horcrux," the dark lord spat out to the teenager on the floor. "Such a dangerous word for a boy who has no clue what he's just walked into. No doubt when you overheard that conversation in the library, you had no idea how it could be used against you."

He continued to circle the teen like a shark circling its prey. To his credit, Draco turned to face him strong and confident in the face of the Dark Lord's accusations. Severus could see the fear still lingering in his eyes, but his determination to stand strong - to not let his mentor down - won out against the fear.

"If I'm to believe your findings," this time the crazed wizard pointed his wand to include Severus into the accusation before swiftly turning back to Draco, "you've saved me from making a very grave mistake."

"What are you-" Lucius started to question his son.

"It appears Harry Potter has a much larger role in all of this than even I ever thought possible," Voldemort interrupted the older blonde without removing his gaze or wand from the teen. "If this is correct, until other… arrangements… can be made, I must now protect the boy, instead of kill him."

"I can get to him for you, my Lord," Rabastan quickly offered, stepping up in front of Lucius in an attempt to separate himself from the apparent disaster of the Malfoys. The entire exchange made Severus's stomach churn. He had a suspicion that the teen had known about the soul fragment, but after the potion accident they'd never discussed it again; that in itself should have told the professor he had information he likely should not have had.

"No," the Dark Lord replied, taking his wand and running across the underside of Draco's chin, drawing the teen's grey eyes onto his own red ones. Severus assumed another round of Legilimency was coming - and he feared for the young wizard's sanity if that were the case - but instead the serpentine wizard just held him in place while contemplating his next move; demonstrating his power over those he held captive. "I believe I shall leave that task to our newest double agent here, since he managed to… successfully… bring in our first traitor."

The way he'd said it told every wizard in the room that he knew the truth behind Severus's own capture.

"And if I refuse?" Draco confidently replied, likely without thinking because if Severus had been in his position, he would have kept quiet as long as possible. While he'd previously lectured to his class about the benefits of combining the differing house traits, this was not a time for foolish Gryffindor antics. "We both know you're just going to kill me anyways, so why don't we drop the pleasantries."

"Ah, yes," the Dark Lord hissed in amusement, "you speak the truth, but I ask you to consider if there are fates worse than death. For Lucius, it's seeing his young heir tortured with a mission that will lead him directly to Azkaban or worse. For you, I should think the filthy muggle girlfriend should be convincing enough. There are so many different ways to handle her-" he paused allowing Draco's fear to consume him, "I could let Bellatrix have a go with her. Your dear Aunt would not be kind that's for sure, but I believe the best fate for young Hermione Granger is leaving her to Fenrir. I do believe young girls are a specialty of his and I'm certain he'd allow you viewing-"

"Shut up!" Draco finally broke down, giving a sideways, apologetic glance to Severus. It was bound to happen given the night they'd all had. "I'll do it."

"I never had a doubt," the Dark Lord responded, "Rabastan, you will make sure he's monitored at all times before we send him back into the castle. "

"Yes, my Lord" the dark haired Death Eater confirmed, "I can modify the bracelet. Give me some ti-"

"I expect it completed by Saturday night," Voldemort interrupted, "in the meantime, young Draco will be staying here, where I can keep a very close watch on him."

Still tightly bound in the ropes, Draco was pulled out towards the exit of the room and for the second time, Severus felt Lucius's urge to follow him. If the Malfoy heir was going to be used to get Harry, under the watchful eyes or ears of Rabastan, he wouldn't be killed in the next 72 hours and that was the only hope Severus was clinging to. Once he got the Gryffindor though… he'd need to do some quick thinking over a very short amount of time because whatever Rabastan did over the last few months to ease the pressure off how long Draco took to "capture" him, would certainly not work a second time.

"Rabastan, take Severus to the dungeons where he'll be brewing," the Dark Lord called over his shoulder just before he left the room with the young wizard, "you and Lucius can do what you'd like with him, as long as he's capable of working in the morning."

~~~~HP~~~~

Thursday, 13th March, 1997

"H-ry?"

He felt groggy. That was the first thought that ran through the Gryffindor's mind. The second was that he was no longer in any pain. Was he finally dead?

"-arry."

Someone was calling him, so he couldn't be dead, but he was afraid if he opened his eyes that awful burning feeling in his stomach would return, and he liked wherever he was. It was warm and comfortable here, and he could just sink into the abyss and stay there forever.

"Harry…"

If only that person would stop calling for him. Unable to block out his consciousness and fall back into the darkness, he cracked his eye open. Although the world around him was still blurry, he could tell he was back in his bed in McGonagall's quarters by a quick process of elimination: the bed was too comfortable for the hospital wing, no one would dare remove him from the Hogwarts grounds, and the drier air meant he wasn't in the dungeons.

"Harry," he heard what sounded like Hermione's voice call out to him again, "can you hear me?"

His glasses were placed on his face for him and he found out that he had been right; he was back in his bedroom in Professor McGonagall's quarters in the tower. It looked as if Hermione had been sitting on the floor by his bed and was now kneeling next to the bed holding his hand, Ron was standing across the room with his arms tucked firmly across his chest, and Dudley was sitting at the chair by the desk. He was so grateful to see these three faces when waking up - having not seen Hermione in three weeks and the other two boys since he started Phase Three almost two months ago - and he didn't realize just how much he missed them.

"You alright, Harry?" Dudley asked, walking up to his bed and sitting down at the end of it. Ron was still standing across the room and Harry wondered what happened to have the redhead so off. "You gave everyone quite a scare last night."

Last night. So he hadn't really lost any time.

"What happened?" He asked pushing up on his elbows bringing his attention to the fact that he was getting some kind of medication through his port. Unfortunately, it appeared like none of his friends were going to speak up as they simply looked out at one another.

"I gave you a mild sedative last night," Dr Swanson said as she entered the room with McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey in her wake. His muggle doctor appeared much more in control than the two witches, who both had worried expressions on their faces. "You were in too much pain to safely treat you otherwise."

"What happened?" Harry asked again because she still hadn't answered his question.

"Can you all give us a minute?" McGonagall asked the three teenagers in his bedroom. Hermione wanted to protest, Harry could easily see that, but his small nod and McGonagall's firm eyes convinced her not to.

Now Harry was nervous, probably more nervous than even before he got the Leukemia diagnosis and close to when he was in the graveyard facing Voldemort.

"Harry," Madam Pomfrey started the conversation, "what did you do yesterday?"

Audibly gulping, Harry furrowed his brows in concentration, "Erm… nothing much yesterday morning and then in the afternoon I had a test with Sev-" he paused as the memories of the afternoon returned to him, "-Snape where he tested my magic again… and then I went and… practiced Defense with Draco in the Room of Requirement. That's when I went to the hospital wing and found out that Snape was..."

The medi-witch pulled out a sheet of parchment understanding how difficult it was for him, but not the reasons, "Did anything out of the ordinary happen during any of those events? Specifically your Defense practice?"

He turned his head in confusion. There was no way he could talk about the vision, so instead he shook his head. Outside of his magical levels and the visions, nothing was different.

"Can someone tell me why I was in so much pain last night?"

There was a pregnant pause and it appeared as if none of the women were going to answer when finally Dr Swanson - of all people - finally spoke up, "We believe it was the final bit of your magic leaving."

At first he thought he heard her wrong, but when the news hit him he couldn't help when his head dropped into his hands. The air surrounding him wasn't nearly enough and he found himself gasping trying to find some way to get more oxygen into his lungs.

"It's alright, Harry," McGonagall reassured him, "well figure this out. I promise, you are not alone."

He didn't cry. Instead, he sat there and stared at his bedspread wishing he were back in his bed downstairs in the dungeon, even if Snape weren't here.

"Now," Dr Swanson continued, "we won't know for sure until we run some tests…"

Harry wasn't listening as she went on about his blood samples and blood counts, or about how they wanted him to test something with his wand once he was stronger. It didn't matter to him either way, he could tell that his magic - at least the top portion above Voldemort's soul fragment - was gone forever.

"I'd like you to stay in bed and rest today," Dr Swanson explained as sympathetically as she could, not knowing how being told you had no more magic would feel like to a sixteen year old wizard.

"Sure thing," he mumbled half-heartedly. "Can my friends come back in now? I'm guessing the fact that they're here means my blood counts are better?"

He'd forgotten that they had already gone over his blood count results and so he gave a mumbled, "sorry" and sat back on his bed with eyes closed trying to ignore the three sets of eyes on him.

Once he heard shuffling and a small set of greetings signifying the change of guests, he opened his eyes to the three people he most needed to see.

"I'm so happy you guys are here," he started with. "I take it you know what happened, which… is why none of you are in class?"

"Guilty," Ron said, "When McGonagall told us and offered the day off classes to be here with you, I wasn't about to turn her down, mate."

The awkward joke made sense to Harry and he understood Ron's uncomfortable body language from earlier. A pureblood wizard, growing up in the wizarding world, wouldn't know how to handle the news of his friend losing his magic. As devastating as it was to Harry, to Ron it would have been far more life altering since he literally wouldn't know the first thing about surviving in the muggle world. For Harry though, it wasn't necessarily about the benefits of having magic, it was losing the world that he first found acceptance in; his first real home.

"Ronald!" Hermione reprimanded their friend. "That's absolutely inappropriate to say and completely untrue."

"Come off it, 'Mione," Ron bickered back at the Gryffindor witch, "Harry always knows I'm joking around with him."

Harry nodded in Ron's defense, because he had known it was a joke and he didn't want to put any extra strain between them.

"What were you thinking, Harry?" Hermione said, breaking the silence. "Between the chemotherapy and magical testing, you knew what dueling like that would do."

It was true, he had known the risks and at the time he didn't care. As Sna- someone once told him calculated risks are sometimes necessary and though his idea was not quite calculated, it was necessary. He needed to get out that aggression he'd been feeling and he didn't care what would happen afterwards. Now he was paying the price for it.

"We heard about Professor Snape," Dudley said. "Did that have anything to do with your reaction?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "that came after."

Apparently going out and dueling as he did required some sort of explanation and he wasn't going to get away without telling them something. So with three new sets of eyes staring at him, he decided to tell them about the vision - or memories - from Voldemort at the end of his magical testing yesterday. Somehow, he managed to keep his anger under control as he walked them through the betrayal from the person he had been so sure was there to look out for him, to care for him, making certain he didn't leave any detail out. His two friends and cousin listened carefully and without interruption, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hand when he got to the part about Snape not caring if Harry or his father died, and Ron turned an angry shade of red before he started pacing around the room mumbling "git" several times under his breath.

"That would explain his frantic search for you yesterday," the Gryffindor witch commented and with everything else going on he forgot she had been there; she was the last person to talk to Snape before he was captured.

"They were targeting me," Harry sadly stated, "just like with Sirius last year."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione moved to hold his hand again, but he pulled it away. Dudley was looking between the trio, having no idea what the "Sirius situation" entailed and Harry saw Ron discreetly shake his head.

The next couple of hours they talked only about light hearted topics like Dudley officially dating the Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, about how Ron and Lavender almost broke up before his birthday, but made it through their first major row on Ron's desire to become an auror after Hogwarts, and catching Harry up on the Quidditch standings, where somehow Ravenclaw was leading for the cup. They didn't talk about Snape, Harry's upcoming Maintenance Phase, or how Draco was still missing. Ironically, Harry guessed he would have been the last person to talk to him until… well, whatever happened to him.

McGonagall kicked the teenagers out right before lunch, which the professor brought Harry in bed and he primarily picked at his chicken sandwich with crisps. His last round of Phase Three chemotherapy was Saturday - an event he should be celebrating yet couldn't muster up any excitement over - and he knew he should eat while he could, but everything tasted like ash. McGonagall came back briefly to collect his lunch plates, making a note over how little he ate, then instructed him to try to sleep. He laid in the bed that was unfamiliar to him and wished he had his enchanted window to look out of, especially after Draco showed him how to change the pictures, instead of the small real window where he could only see the real sky.

Thinking about the enchanted window drew his attention to his magic, or lack thereof now. No amount of reassurance from his friends - including Ron's not so helpful comments about Filch and Hagrid - could make him feel better about it. This wasn't only expected, it was the best goal to protect the block, nonetheless it was still heartbreaking to have it happening and at such an awful time. Not caring that Madam Pomfrey told him to wait, Harry grabbed his Holly wand from the bedside table. This time, there was no excited magic coursing through him; it was empty.

"Lumos!" He said, hoping and pleading that something would happen, but his wand stayed dark. "Lumos… Lumos!"

No matter how many times he said that spell, one of the easiest to learn, no light came from his wand. Filled with anger, grief, and despair, he threw his wand as hard as he could across the room feeling a small bit of satisfaction when he heard it clink and clatter onto the floor. The irony of the situation was not lost on him: now that he had no magic and had essentially become the person his relatives could have loved, they were gone and he was once again left entirely alone.

~~~~SS~~~~

The first thing Severus noticed when he cracked his eyes open was that he could breathe significantly better than when he went to sleep; or more accurately passed out sometime while Rabastan and Lucius were throwing curses at him early in the AM hours. It was ironic really that after all he'd magically endured, it was the muggle kick he'd gotten back at Hogsmeade that caused him the most pain and that was because of his fractured, and later broken, rib which appeared to be healed now.

Aware of the oddity of such a change in his situation, even in his half sleeping state, he jumped up ready to face whatever came his way. What he didn't expect was the face of Healer Walker to be staring at him from across the room.

"Morning," she called out across from him.

Nadine Walker looked exactly as she did in his old reality. She was in her early 40's and though their time at Hogwarts overlapped by a year, he had never crossed paths with the Ravenclaw. Her raven-black hair was straight but bushy and her eyes were as icy blue as he remembered, which was one of the defining characteristics of the healer, outside of her unique specialty of muggle diseases in the wizarding world. Those eyes though, while they were full of wonder and excitement to help out the witches and wizards that were entrusted to her care before, were now filled from the months spent captured in this cell being forced to care for the evil dark wizard; to try to rid him of a disease that they had no competent brewer to help. Unlike all the other times he'd seen her in his old reality, she was wearing a plain set of dark grey robes, clearly not of her own wardrobe, as opposed to the lime green healer's robes from St. Mungo's. It was unnerving to know that he knew her so well - after spending almost a year working closely to beat Harry's Leukemia - and yet he was a complete stranger to the witch in front of him.

"I'm surprised you're awake already," she continued to talk, "I don't know what you did to warrant the condition you were in, but it took a fair amount of work to heal you the best I could without a wand."

"Thank you," he genuinely replied, sitting up from the thin mattress he'd been given in the corner of the room - or cell - he'd been placed in. The only magic required to heal him would have been his rib and he was extremely grateful she could do that wandlessly. Not many witches or wizards would attempt something that serious, but he guessed it was something every healer should know.

Now that he was physically up and able to move, he could finally get a good look at his surroundings. As expected, he'd been placed in a small room in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, not unlike the horrifying room that Sarah and Mary Smithe were kept in. The room itself was quite a bit larger than he would have expected and the mattress along the back wall directly across from him was likely the reason. It appeared he'd get the pleasure of Healer Walker as a roommate during his awkward stay in this prison. The walls, ceiling and floor were all unpainted stone making the room extremely dark, damp, and cold. A measly little fireplace sat in the middle of the wall across from the door he naturally assumed was locked, between the two beds - consisting of thin mattresses directly on the stone floor with an equally thin blanket on each - that didn't do anything to warm the cold damp air around them. There appeared to be a small lavatory through a doorway on the left wall perpendicular to the healer's bed, that had a loo, a tiny sink, and shower, but no door to afford them any privacy. The whole rest of the room was set up as a potions laboratory, with a large rectangle workbench in the middle - complete with a wide range of cauldrons, glassware, and other necessary tools - and a cupboard on the right wall perpendicular to his own bed.

Thinking quickly, he got up and briskly walked to the workbench where he opened the drawers in search of the single tool that every potions bench had: a potions knife and as Harry found out a couple of months ago, they're usually extremely sharp.

"It won't work," the healer said from her own mattress. "It's charmed to only cut ingredients. I don't even know how they managed to do it, but I've already tried."

Of course she did. At this point, if there was a way out she would have found it already; she was definitely intelligent enough to have worked out all the possibilities.

"I'm Nadine," she said, walking up to him carefully, eyeing his left forearm, a sign she had seen his mark while healing him. "I'm a Healer at St. Mungo's, or at least I used to be until I ended up here."

"I know," he said, "I'm sorry you were pulled into this mess."

A pregnant pause fell over the two of them and the healer brought over a tray with a small plate of breakfast on it and slid it across the workbench.

"I haven't seen you around here before," she warily said to him.

Severus turned and leaned against the bench top facing his roommate. He wondered if Matthew had stayed here before him and simply never came back after New Year's Eve when he had been killed.

"You wouldn't have," he replied, "I defected in the first war and was working for the other side. Until last July, I was undercover."

She'd be able to figure out the rest of the story. He watched closely as Nadine took her own tray to her mattress and sat down to begin eating. After all this time, he assumed she'd stopped worrying about the potential of being poisoned, knowing she was far more valuable alive than dead. Severus was in the same category, but still carefully checked his own breakfast for any signs of poison before taking a tentative bite.

"I'm Severus," he eventually told the witch, "Severus Snape."

"I know who you are," she boldly replied, "your commissioned work is widely known in the healer community. I've always found it strange with a talent like that, you ended up in teaching."

"It had its benefits," he mumbled, still trying to find a way out of the prison. "I take it I have all the supplies needed to brew these potions?"

She gave a chuckle that was not at all intended to be funny, "A bit arrogant aren't you? You don't even know what it is you're brewing yet. The last wizard got himself killed by-"

"He was mediocre at best," Severus interrupted her, "Matthew's reputation didn't exactly spell success for the task he was handed. I'm honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did." He paused taking in her more aggressive stance since he started speaking. There was definitely not this much animosity between them in his old reality, "And let's just assume, for simplicity's sake, that I know what's going on."

She watched him closely, scrutinizing something he couldn't quite figure out. Then she narrowed her eyes at him and said, "The Prophet article a couple of months ago said Harry Potter was in your care. So, you know the disease we're dealing with, but Harry's doing the muggle treatment, correct? And therefore you'd have no idea the caliber of potions you're being asked to complete."

In order to keep too much suspicion away from his unique situation, he allowed her to believe that to be the case by nodding his head. To feign his ignorance on the subject, he stood to check out the parchment left on the workbench.

"I see you've found your instructions," the voice of Avery came from the doorway. There was a small opening in the top portion that opened allowing their captors to look in. "I have my doubts that you'll succeed, however it's a lose-lose situation for you: cure the Dark Lord or be killed. Either way works for me."

He wasn't about to validate the threat with a response. Even without knowing his personal history with this regimen of potions, he was amazed how little confidence they had in his general ability. Suddenly he felt pride swell up inside of himself for what he had accomplished back in his old reality at least until the last month or so when they stopped working.

"Where's Draco?" he decided to respond instead of rising to the bait that Avery had so obviously laid out.

"You'll see soon enough," the Death Eater laughed from the other side of the door, "I suggest you get started and focus on your own miserable situation."

The small inset of the door slammed closed and in reaction Severus pinched the bridge of his nose to show his frustration. Perhaps he could try to convince the Dark Lord that Draco would be beneficial to helping with the potions. Tabling those thoughts, he had no other option than to get to work. If he could get the first set of potions - at least the one Harry had taken every single day since his diagnosis, the magical equivalent of his Vincristine now - maybe he would be able to get some information when he delivered it. He looked over the procedure, happy to see the additions of the Euphorbia formosan leaves and Vernonia amygdalina flower petals that were a last addition to Harry's regimen.

Working mostly off of memory - with the healer following him as a shadow watching every move he made with deep seated curiosity - he collected the supplies he'd need from the cupboard and started setting up the cauldron. Having done this every Sunday for almost a year, he barely needed to look at the instructions or the ingredients list as he placed the five whole leaves of Euphorbia formosan to the still cold cauldron.

"Stop!" The healer called to him, causing the professor to half roll his eyes, "Are you that arrogant you didn't even read the instructions? Or maybe you have a death wish and just want to be killed quickly?!"

Unable to control his temper any longer, he turned sharply towards her and called out, "Who's the Potion's Master here, you or I?!"

"At this exact moment?" She retorted rhetorically, "I think it's me."

Pulling out the parchment of the procedure from behind him, she shoved it into his chest and stood staring at him with her hands firmly placed on her hips. This was one of the reasons he was happy he'd never had the inclination to date or get married; he liked to do things on his own with no one breathing down his neck. Trying to avoid any major issues in their first morning as roommates, he looked down at the instructions and what he read nearly took his breath away. Where the first step should have been to add five whole leaves of Euphorbia formosan to the cold cauldron, was instead crossed out and "add finely ground leaves of Euphorbia formosan to the old cauldron" was in its place. He scanned further down to the middle of the procedure where the finely ground flower petals of Vernonia amygdalina was supposed to be added after the second half hour of boiling and sure enough, the "finely ground" was crossed out and "whole petals" was written in its place. It was the exact opposite of what his procedure was in his old reality and the implications of that were not lost on him.

"Why is this different?" He asked breathlessly without thinking about the information he was providing to the healer. "It's supposed to be whole leaves and finely ground petals, why was it changed?"

Something about his questions lowered her anger slightly and instead of her previous glare of pure disdain, she was looking at him with intrigued curiosity, "I don't understand why you would question it, but Matthew discovered an error in the original formula, not that he ever got that far in the process. He may have been an awful brewer, but he knew his ingredients better than most. I'm hoping to get back to St. Mungo's at some point and submit the correction… in his memory."

"I didn't…" he started to speak, but stopped himself. He needed to know if his hypothesis was correct because while he knew that swapping something as simple as "finely ground" and "whole" could cause major changes in a potions formula, he did not exactly know - though he could guess - what the reaction would be with these two specific ingredients. "If this was done using the original procedure, did Matthew say what the end result would be?"

"Yeah, he did actually," she replied, not hiding her confusion. Severus could feel her crystal blue eyes on him as his own eyes pleaded for his conclusion to be wrong, "he said it would create the opposite effect, that instead of lowering the Leukemia cell count it would exponentially increase it. Not such a bad idea if we could get away without him knowing about it, but it would be pretty obvious he was dying and he would simply kill us both before it got that far."

The professor didn't absorb a single word she'd said after that first sentence. His legs immediately gave out and he fell onto the hard, stone floor where he cradled his head in his hands trying to keep himself together. They - him and Healer Walker - had obviously questioned what had caused Harry's sudden change in his condition from late February to April and now, sitting in front of him was his answer: he'd brewed the potion incorrectly and essentially poisoned his son.