Severus and Lupin had no idea what potential threats or traps the Forest of Shadows might have in store for them as they sprinted beneath its canopy, but in some silent, mutual agreement, they decided that no dark creature or ancient magic lurking in the Forest could deliver a fate worse than Harry Potter winding up back in the hands of the Dark Lord. Potter was still unconscious, either due to Lupin's Sleeping Charm or lingering effect of the illness. At least they could be certain the Dark Lord could no longer affect the boy physically from a distance. On the other hand, they were now running like mad through a cold, damp forest with a sick child still clad in damp clothes and bare feet. Yes, that was certainly conducive to Potter's health!

But they ran on, both staggering and exhausted, each in pain from assorted injuries, with the knowledge of what would befall themselves, the boy, and the entire wizarding world if they should fail weighing them down like lead weights around their necks. They made little attempt at stealth; it was a foregone conclusion that the Forest itself would be on the side of the Dark Lord if they were caught, so their only chance was to beat the Death Eaters to the mountain.

Neither man had any real idea what magical properties the mountain possessed, but it was a well-known legend as old as the Fortress's unknown creators that those who had been able to escape it might find refuge on the mountain. And that was as good a plan as any.

Beside Severus, Lupin grunted and staggered, nearly dropping his burden. Snape slowed, exhausted himself, but the werewolf looked nearly spent. And there was another problem: what to do if they were still out here in twenty-four hours when the full moon rose. Lupin would have to separate from them, and Severus would have to find somewhere to secret himself and the boy and hope the werewolf wouldn't find them.

Still, one thing at a time, and all that. He could worry about that tomorrow night after they'd gone about the business of surviving tonight. Severus stopped Lupin and said quietly, "Give him to me."

Lupin blinked, his grip tightening on the boy. "I can manage," he said.

Heaven save me from werewolves with paternal instinct! "For God's sake, man, you can barely stay upright. Your bloody moon rises tomorrow, let me carry Potter!" Snape growled. Heaving an annoyed sigh, he added tightly, "I won't eat him."

Apparently, that had been the foremost concern on Lupin's mind. But he could not deny Snape's logic, and slowly nodded, kneeling to carefully shift the unconscious boy from his own arms to Snape's. Severus frowned to himself; Potter was much lighter than he'd thought—much, much lighter than a healthy sixteen-year-old ought to be. It was easier than expected to shift the boy's weight so he could rise and continue walking; feeling Lupin's eyes on him, he did so gently. What did the man think, that Severus was going to start torturing the child the moment his back was turned? Glaring at the werewolf, he continued at a walk. They wouldn't be able to run all the way to the mountain anyway.

"How much further, do you think?" Lupin said quietly.

Snape craned his neck to gauge the proximity of the silver slopes, and the stars above it. "We may reach it by dawn, assuming we aren't waylaid."

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

To his surprise, Lupin had been thinking about the approaching dilemma as well. "In any case, if we haven't made it out of here by tomorrow night, I'll leave Harry with you and get as lost as I can before moonrise."

"You might do well to return to the Forest so you can harass any pursuers we may have."

"I haven't seen any signs," said Lupin, then he chorused with Snape, "yet." Snape scowled as the werewolf grinned, and looked at the boy again. He was still completely motionless, and Severus could feel the heat of fever from his body. But he did not appear to have any difficulty breathing, and his pulse was steady. "How is he?"

Snape returned his gaze to the trees ahead and shrugged. "Stable for now."

As they trudged on, Lupin said, "Severus…Harry cannot be told about Sirius."

Severus scowled into the darkness. "We don't even know for certain that the dog was Black."

"It was." Lupin sounded as if the words caused him physical pain. "I wasn't certain at first, but…it was. And I left him." He drew in a shaky breath. "Harry can't know."

Severus glanced at him. "What's the matter, afraid your cub will forget all about you now that the mongrel's alive?"

"Drop it for once, Severus!" Lupin snapped. "Lestrange and Voldemort may well kill Sirius before any attempt can be made to save him! Harry cannot know he's their prisoner; you and I both know it would destroy him!"

Their feet rustled over rotting vegetation for several moments before Severus answered, "Relax, Lupin, I won't tell the boy. The last thing we need is him gallivanting off on some other madcap rescue attempt."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lupin shake his head. "Harry loves Sirius. And after all the time you've spent picking at his memories, you know full well what he's gone through since…Sirius's death."

"And what is your point? His decision was still reckless and ill-conceived."

"Because he was willing to die to save Sirius? You and I both made that choice for Harry."

"Potter is a child," Snape said impatiently. Why were they having this conversation?

But Lupin replied, "Harry has lived through more than someone Dumbledore's age."

"Is there a point to this, Lupin?" Severus snapped. "You know perfectly well my opinion of the boy; your doting is not going to change it."

To his greater annoyance, Lupin merely chuckled. "Of course not. But again, Severus, you are not as inscrutable as you would like to think; I wouldn't dream of trying to sway any firm opinion of yours. Fortunately, your opinion of Harry is not nearly so firm as it used to be."

Severus nearly stopped in his tracks, glaring first at Lupin, but then unintentionally glancing down at the boy. "What are you talking about?"

"You and Sirius have something in common, you know. You both have a tendency to mix up your feelings for Harry with your feelings for his father."

Snape's mouth opened in outrage, but he could not seem to form a single coherent thought to express it. That Lupin would even suggest a similarity between himself and that bloody, too-arrogant-to-even-stay-dead mongrel was bad enough, but… "You…he…that arrogant little…Potter…"

"Of which Potter are you speaking, Severus?" Lupin asked blithely. His gaze softened as it fell on the boy. "I've seen you watching him since Washington. He is nothing like James at this age. And you're starting to see that at last, aren't you?"

Severus gritted his teeth and kept walking.

They saw no signs of Death Eaters all night long, but neither was willing to believe that the Dark Lord's forces were not pursuing them. Which begged the question, where were they? As the sky turned gray with approaching dawn, the Forest of Shadows began to thin, almost as if it was wilting toward the edge where the mountain rose up nearest to it. On one hand, this meant that the dark magic which supposedly permeated the Forest was waning; on the other hand, Severus and Lupin had to quicken their pace, feeling exposed in the thinning trees.

The first rays of sunlight erupted defiantly over the Forest's canopy as the two men reached the silver-gray foot of the mountain and began to walk uphill. Severus, anticipating Lupin's inquiry, examined Potter. "There's been little change." He shook his head as they moved out of the cover of the trees; it felt as though something heavy had been lifted away. Fortunately, the slope was not too terribly steep.

"Should we stop and find shelter? See if he improves?" Lupin asked.

Snape looked at the boy again. He was stable for now, but what would hours of continued travel in open, chilly air do? Glancing over his shoulder, Severus eyed the black-green canopy of the Forest of Shadows and the dark gray pyramid hulk of the Fortress rising above it like a gateway to hell. Which, in many respects, it was. He looked up at the mountain before them and sighed. "We'll stop. Keep your eyes open for a cave or any suitable shelter."

It was only minutes before they stumbled across the first cave, but Severus insisted on going further, to prevent them from being easily tracked by Death Eaters. After another hour or so, they discovered the entrance to a cave nearly concealed on the rough, craggy slope by a well-placed boulder. Lupin investigated, and pronounced it safe, so in they went. It was a bare, open chamber in the mountainside, large enough to stand easily, with room for air to move properly. Lupin conjured smokeless fire on the bare stone as Severus laid Potter on the cave floor.

"I wonder if Albus will be able to reach us yet."

"It is possible. At least he is aware that I am alive, and should realize that if I am, so is Potter."

Lupin draped his worn cloak on the ground and eased the boy onto it, conjuring a blanket to cover him. Potter did not stir. "They must be frantic, wondering what happened."

"Dumbledore is not a fool; he will have realized by now what happened," Severus replied, reaching inside his own robes to see if he had any other potions left. Luck was with him; the vials of Restorative Draught and Fever Reducing Potion had survived intact.

"That doesn't mean they won't be worried." Lupin frowned at Severus. "How did this happen? Why did Harry appear here?"

Severus sat back in front of the fire and thought. "We had assumed the torch was nothing more than a conduit, a relay for a connection between the Dark Lord and Potter. Obviously Potter was more strongly connected to the torch itself than we realized. When the link was severed, he appeared fully in the place where the torch was."

Lupin pulled a face. "I suppose one of us should have thought of that."

"Too late." Severus looked from the vials of potion to the boy. "Wake him if you can. If we're going to move again, these draughts need to be in him."

"I'll try." Lupin knelt beside Potter and began rubbing his back gently. "Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Can you wake up? Come on." After a moment, the boy stirred, eyelids fluttering against his pale face. Lupin kept up the litany until Potter's eyes opened.

"Mm? Wha…where…where am I?"

"You're safe," Lupin told him, rubbing the boy's forehead and shooting Severus a look that clearly said, I hope.

Potter turned his face toward the werewolf. "Remus? What's going on? I had…oddest dream."

Lupin forced a smile, still petting him. "I'm not surprised. You gave us quite a scare."

"Where are we?" Potter mumbled. His glassy gaze traveled over the cave walls, the fire, and came to rest on Severus.

"We're in a cave on the mountain beyond the Forest of Shadows. We brought you out of the Fortress," Lupin said.

The boy's eyes widened, and he actually tried to sit up. "Remus—"

"Harry! Easy, there!" Lupin exclaimed, holding him still. "You've been seriously ill."

"But, wait, you don't under—I saw…" the boy babbled. Lupin shot Snape a desperate glance, but Potter trailed off, his face falling. "Or was…was it a dream? I can't…I thought…Sirius…" he shook his head in groggy confusion.

Lupin looked appealingly at Severus, who rolled his eyes. Can't bear to lie outright to your cub, so Big Bad Snape has to do it. Nonetheless, he said aloud, "You have been confused for almost two days, Potter. You were dreaming."

Potter blinked at him, visibly deflating. Looking up at Lupin, he misinterpreted the werewolf's hunched shoulders and lowered head. "Oh. I guess…sorry."

"Don't apologize, Harry," Lupin said quietly.

Snape pushed the vials toward them. "Give him all of these."

Taking a deep breath, Lupin nodded and lifted Potter into a sitting position. The boy was too weak to even complain about being treated like an invalid—which made sense, seeing that he was. He swallowed the various potions with his head resting on Lupin's shoulder. "Are we…home soon?" he mumbled drowsily.

"Just as soon as you're up to it," Lupin said, putting an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Try and rest. Everything will be fine."

"Mm…wish…hadn't been…dream. Thought I…saw…Sirius…" Potter drifted off as Lupin rested his cheek against the boy's hair, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Get a grip on yourself," Snape muttered irritably. The whole scene was so cloying it turned his stomach. For every parent/surrogate parent of Potter's that bought it, there seemed to always be three or four fighting for the honor of replacing them.

Silence descended. Potter was so heavily asleep that Severus doubted he would have heard a bomb go off. Lupin stared at the fire, or at the cave entrance, or, even more insufferably, at Severus. Snape wished they could get out of there and move on, but knew it would be a foolish risk to move Potter now. Better to let his condition improve still more before attempting it.

"How's your side?" the werewolf startled him by asking.

"Well enough," he said, shrugging. Better than it would have been if Bella had managed to hit me.

Lupin watched him for a moment in an annoyingly understanding fashion, and finally said, "Why not get some sleep? I'll keep watch."

"Don't be ridiculous—" he began, but Lupin interrupted.

"Stop being contrary, Severus, we both know it's too dangerous to move Harry before nightfall—and come nightfall it will be too dangerous for either of you to leave here." The werewolf shifted Potter back down in front of the fire, bundling part of the cloak beneath his head. Severus could only grit his teeth at the undeniable truth of it. The boy's condition was still far from stable; it would be folly to risk more travel today. They were stuck here for at least twenty-four hours, with one werewolf soon-to-be on the prowl and who knew how many Death Eaters.

Scowling at Lupin, he muttered, "Very well. Wake me well before dark." Lupin nodded. Severus did not expect to be able to sleep well sitting back against the cave wall knowing what might be lurking outside, but apparently he was more weary than he realized.

Severus woke to a quiet call of his name and found Lupin peering out the cave entrance. The few rays of sunlight that came into the small space were now on the opposite wall from the one they'd struck when Severus had gone to sleep. Potter did not look to have moved a muscle. "I must be going soon," said Lupin. He frowned at the still-slumbering Potter. "I don't supposed you happened to be carrying any food?"

"Vitalizing Potion will serve for a time," said Severus, holding up the two remaining vials that had survived the various scuffles. "Water is the more pressing need."

"I took a look around just outside, but there's nothing in view."

And no time to search further. Severus glanced at the boy. At best, he was facing a long, tense night trapped in a cave with a hungry, thirsty, and highly-obnoxious teenager (who would doubtless be fretting over the werewolf's whereabouts all night long.) At worst, the boy was already ill enough that any dehydration would be serious.

But there was nothing he could do about it tonight. Severus gruffly waved Lupin off. "I'll manage. Put some distance between yourself and the cave."

Lupin hesitated in the entrance, his gaze flitting from Severus to Potter. "Severus, will you…"

"For God's sake, yes, I'll take care of him!" Severus snapped. "Now go!"

With one last, intense stare at Potter as though trying to memorize him, Lupin slipped out into the fading afternoon sun.

When the first shaft of moonlight slipped past the obscuring boulder into the cave, Severus heard the howl. Fortunately, it was some distance away.

Potter woke about an hour later, more alert than last time. Severus watched him stir and toss until he came round, groggy and blinking those bloody green Evans eyes. "Professor? Where's Remus?"

"Out. The moon is full," Snape told him shortly. "How do you feel?"

The boy managed to sit up on his own, to Snape's surprise. "Better," he said. He swallowed and grimaced. "Thirsty."

Naturally. All the same, he had to concede, the boy probably was slightly dehydrated. Severus pushed one of the vials at him. "Drink that."

The potion seemed to have an effect, for the boy's eyes brightened from the fevered haze of the past few days. Severus managed not to roll his eyes at the predictable barrage of questions Potter unleashed. "What happened? How'd we get here? Why was I so sick? Where's—"

"Potter!" Severus snapped, and he subsided. "What happened is the Dark Lord used the green flame torch to make a concerted attack on your physical self to the point where you would have died had we not severed the connection. Lupin and I came to the Fortress to do so, but destroying the torch caused you to appear there. We were forced to escape with you through the Forest."

Severus hadn't intended to be so forthcoming, and Potter too looked surprised that he had answered, but at least he visibly bit back further questions. Instead, to Snape's bemused surprise, he looked away and muttered, "Thanks."

Severus scowled at the fire. "Go back to sleep. I want you rested so we can move again in the morning."

"What about Remus?"

"He will rejoin us when he is in no danger of killing us," Severus said indifferently. The boy still looked rebellious, but eventually curled back up beside the fire and closed his eyes.

Severus surreptitiously left his watching post at the front of the cave and walked over to check on him. The boy seemed to be breathing easily enough, but Severus doubted the improvements would continue if they were stuck out here for any great length of time. He had one vial of Vitalizing Potion left, which might get Potter through another day, but beyond that, especially without water…he shook his head and scowled.

Things just couldn't be simple, he reasoned as he paced back to the cave entrance. It wasn't enough to be on the run from Death Eaters on some godforsaken mountain with a sick child, but his former partner had gone hunting, and they had no way of contacting the Headmaster from here. He would simply have to hope Albus could find them via the other torch; that might be the only chance of speeding their rescue at this point.

And to his even greater irritation, he could not seem to honestly blame Potter.

If it weren't for that stupid child's presence, we could have kept traveling and perhaps crossed the mountain by now. But none of them had foreseen that destroying the green flame torch would cause Potter to rematerialize in the Fortress, rather than in the hospital wing.

If Potter hadn't run off to Hogsmeade, we might have had more warning. But Draco Malfoy had told them Potter wasn't expected by the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade. If they hadn't realized he was missing, they might not have been able to respond to the attack in time to save lives. After all, Potter's was not the only life at stake here.

If Potter weren't so insufferably full of himself, perhaps he'd notice that… But Snape's treacherous mind returned to the hospital wing, to the sight of the boy when the Dark Lord had made his final, potentially-fatal attack through the torch and wracked Potter's body with fever. As the boy slept, curled up beneath Lupin's conjured blanket, Severus found himself recalling involuntarily the delirious mutterings in the hospital wing:

"Remus, sorry, I…got Sirius killed, I didn't mean…sorry…Ron, Hermione, in…danger…because of me…sorry…trying…so stupid, I shouldn've gone…there…sorry…I'm…sorry…"

James Potter was never like that, even when he did get his friends into trouble. No matter how Severus tried to force it down, that knowledge was inescapable. The one time James Potter had ever shown any second thoughts about anything had been that so-called prank involving Lupin (how sickeningly ironic, given our present circumstances!) and even after that, he'd laughed it off. Sirius Black and James Potter had laughed at everything.

In that respect, he had to admit, Harry Potter was quite different. At least lately. Severus wasn't blind; as irritating as it was, he'd noticed the boy's deterioration under the onslaught, and only part of it had to do with the Dark Lord's continuous assault via the torch. One rather startling change that Severus had noticed was that the boy's features no longer bore so striking a resemblance to either of his parents. Among other things, chronic illness had left him far thinner and paler than James Potter ever was, and lacking the elder Potter's swagger.

Well, truth be told, Harry Potter had never quite possessed that most-obnoxious trait of his father's—but that certainly didn't mean the boy wasn't full of himself! Severus glared accusingly at the sleeping teenager and turned around to look out the cave entrance again.

But he couldn't seem to stop contemplating the changes he had noticed. No, Harry's face was no longer so stark a copy of James's, but more startling still were his eyes. Lily Evans's eyes. Perhaps seeing them yet again last night had brought it to Snape's mind; no longer were Harry Potter's eyes precisely like his mother's. Even before he'd been ill, the boy's eyes had taken on a haunted, empty look that Severus could not begin to imagine seeing in Lily Evans' eyes.

And heaven knows neither Evans nor Potter ever began to imagine what awaited their son.

Now where had that thought come from, he wondered irritably.

It did not bode well for anything. Severus wasn't blind, and he was not a fool. All the clues, Dumbledore's actions, the Dark Lord's actions, recent events, and the boy's disposition of late pointed to one explanation, something Severus had always suspected after hearing Dumbledore's altered prophecy.

He probably should have guessed it long before this year: Harry Potter was the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord.

It explained the Dark Lord's obsession. It certainly explained Dumbledore's obsession. It explained the existence of the prophecy, and the way Potter had acted since the Department of Mysteries, as though he were carrying the weight of a few giants on his shoulders.

Severus Snape despised self-pity, and yet…everyone who had stood their ground against the Dark Lord—everyone who did not have a Potter jump in front of them, that is—had died. Harry Potter was apparently fated to stand his ground against the Dark Lord…and he was fresh out of parents to die for him.

Severus didn't envy the child now—not that he ever had, of course!

No, when it came to it, all the heroic feats Harry Potter had supposedly accomplished were more cases of unlikely rescue than any great brilliance on the boy's part. Potter possessed no truly remarkable skills—other than Parseltongue and Quidditch…and luck. And an endless stream of followers who were always willing to throw themselves in front of Killing Curses for him.

Severus shook his head to himself. Harry Potter was no great hero, he'd known that all along, just an ordinary child with a scar who did not deserve all the fawning he received.

And who doesn't deserve all the attention he's received from the Dark Lord either. The thought slipped out before Severus could check it.

Movement in the back of the cave caught his eye; Potter was tossing in his sleep, trying to burrow further beneath the blanket. The night air was cold; Severus conjured another blanket and raised the temperature of the fire. Draping the extra cover over Potter, he felt the boy's forehead. Still warm, but not burning. Good. Once the child stopped shivering, Severus returned to the front of the cave, glancing back only now and then. He still disliked seeing Potter unconscious, it reminded him…

Perhaps I should have sabotaged the green flame torch to begin with. He glared into the darkness, but the thought would not be suppressed: he had made the torch. It might have been a design of Salazar Slytherin, but it could not have been used successfully without Severus Snape's skill. If he had acted sooner, rather than biding his time as always, they might not have wound up in this predicament. Stop thinking like a stupid Gryffindor!

The moon was directly overhead when the attack came. Hearing no sounds of searchers and the occasional howl well in the distance had lulled Severus into complacency. Standing in the entryway of the cave engaged in maudlin musings about his least favorite student, he had forgotten the other ways that the Dark Lord's followers might pursue them. Stupidly, he stood there in the mouth of their shelter listening for the approach of humans…and completely missed the rat that slipped past him into the cave.

A rustle brought Severus spinning around and diving to avoid a Killing Curse thrown by Peter Pettigrew. He scrambled to his feet, and the two wizards faced off. Pettigrew was between Severus and the boy. "Don't be a fool, Severus," he hissed. "You can't fight the Dark Lord's aims forever!"

"Move away from him," Snape warned, training his wand on the smaller man.

"Stupefy!"

"Avada Kedavra!" Wormtail dodged Snape's Killing Curse and grabbed the unconscious Potter, using the boy as a shield. "DROP HIM!" Severus roared.

"I'll kill him!" Pettigrew threatened.

But as it turned out, Potter wasn't unconscious. Neither Severus nor Wormtail saw the rock clutched in the boy's hand until he twisted and bashed it into Wormtail's head. Wormtail squealed like the rat he was and dropped both boy and wand, and Potter scrambled away after it. But that inadvertently put him between Pettigrew and Snape's wand.

"Potter, down!" Severus bellowed, charging forward. The boy dropped without hesitating, but Pettigrew pounced on him, grappling past him for the wand. Potter struggled, but wasn't strong enough to keep the healthy wizard off, and Wormtail snatched up the wand and fired off a curse that caught Severus in the shoulder.

"Professor!" he heard Potter shout as he fell to his knees, then Wormtail's scream brought him out of the dazed pain.

Potter had somehow managed to twist his body sideways—landing Wormtail right in the fire. Shrieking, Pettigrew lurched upright, batting at the flames with one hand, and grabbing Potter by the throat with the other—the silver hand.

"No!" Severus shouted, raising his wand, but Wormtail wrenched the gasping boy in front of him.

"Drop it!" he cried.

Severus did not move. "I will kill you, Pettigrew," he growled.

Wormtail was breathing heavily and sweating in the chilly air. "Not before I break his neck," he quavered. His own wand lay several feet away where it had fallen. "Drop your wand and back away!"

"Don't!" Potter hissed at Snape, but Wormtail's grip tightened, cutting off his breath. He thrashed and clawed at the silver hand to no avail, and his green eyes began to glaze.

"Enough!" Severus bellowed as the boy's legs buckled. He dropped his wand and backed off.

Wormtail hauled Potter forward and picked up the wand before loosening the choke hold. The boy doubled over, gasping frantically, and as his weight pulled Pettigrew off balance, Severus dove for the other wand. A curse impacted the floor, just missing him, as he grabbed Wormtail's wand and returned fire. With his silver hand, Pettigrew hurled Potter against the cave wall. The boy slammed into the unyielding stone and dropped to the floor in a limp heap. Severus snarled in rage and threw curse after curse at Wormtail until he knocked the treacherous little man to the floor, then roared, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

He did not miss, and Pettigrew did not raise his wand. Instead, he flung out his silver hand, and the jet of green light struck it—and rebounded off it. Severus had no time to wonder, but leapt behind a stalagmite, which was promptly blown to pieces. Before he had a chance to move again, Wormtail fired off a Reductor Curse at the ceiling over his head, dropping what felt like a mountain's worth of rock down on him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around his head and curled into a ball, wincing as debris pummeled him.

When it was over, he lay in the rubble, ears ringing and head pounding, he heard a scuffle, and Potter's voice. "Expelli—ah!" There was the harsh sound of a blow, then nothing but ragged breathing.

"Get up."

"No! Get off!" Severus struggled to make his leaden limbs respond as he heard Pettigrew strike Potter again, cutting off the boy's protests. It seemed doubtful that the still-ailing child could put up much of a fight, but Severus could hear the other wizard grunting as he dragged Potter out into the night.

At length, Severus extracted himself from the debris and found—to his amazement—no broken bones, only incredibly painful bruising. It is truly a wonder that Pettigrew has stayed alive in the Dark Lord's service; he is so hopelessly incompetent.

Clearly, Severus had been left for dead, which meant Pettigrew might not be fearing pursuit. On the other hand, he had Potter, he had Snape's wand, he had who-knew-how-many Death Eaters awaiting him, and they all had a werewolf to contend with. With a groan, Severus pulled himself to his feet and slipped out the entrance. Looking carefully past the boulder, he saw no sign of Wormtail or the boy. Severus closed his eyes.

This would be difficult without a wand, but he would have to manage if he wanted to find them. Concentrating with all his strength on the boy, he whispered, "Reperio."

He opened his eyes to see a faint point of light hovering in the air in front of him, and as he watched, it floated off over the rocky slope. Severus followed.

The Seek Spell led him in a swerving course along the mountainside until Severus was very puzzled: why hadn't Pettigrew taken Potter straight off the mountain? He hadn't heard the werewolf for some time, and assuming Pettigrew knew Lupin was out there, they'd be no safer on the mountain slope than in the Forest of Shadows.

But the spell kept going, and Severus stealthily kept after it. Dragging an unwilling or unconscious teenager would be enough to slow Wormtail down, and Severus needed the element of surprise. If he could catch them before Wormtail reached any allies—where were the others!—he had a chance of getting the boy back before he suffered any further injuries.

He glanced at the stars. It was around two in the morning. Dangerous hours of moonlight left. Damn! His Seek Spell was slowing down, which meant he must be close. That was one of the more complicated feats of wandless magic he'd managed; at any other time, he would have been pleased. But at this moment, all his concentration lay in avoiding detection as he crept around a rocky outcropping.

Severus stopped, staring in surprise. Nestled on the mountainside was a house, a large house built in Greek or Roman style made of the same gray stone as the mountain. Why anyone would want to live on this barren rock was beyond him—but somehow he doubted this was somebody's summer home. The whisper of old magic that scented the air of the mountain seemed to grow stronger here, and it looked as if the building had been uninhabited for a long time. His instincts warned him to be wary of this place, yet something else seemed to call him forward to find what he sought…and overriding all other factors was the dim flicker of fire in one of the lower windows. The Seek Spell had halted. The boy was here, and that meant Severus would venture into the house, whatever it contained.

He was just starting to creep around the outcropping toward the next hiding place when a scream of agony pierced the cold air. Severus knew from painful experience the only curse that could always prompt such a cry, and his stomach clenched in a surge of fury that surprised him even as it took him. Pettigrew, you bloody bastard!

He began creeping as fast as he could from one concealing boulder to another, ducking behind outcroppings and staying low to the ground, intent on getting to the house as soon as possible. He could see no sign of movement from the other windows, but he knew that did not mean Pettigrew and Potter were the only ones inside. But then the boy cried out again, and he sprinted toward the window where the fire burned and crouched below it, listening to the voices within.

"Damn you!" Pettigrew was ranting, in a savage voice that made Snape's blood run cold. He much preferred Wormtail the Whimpering Wastrel. "Nothing ever goes right for my master and me with you! Do you know how much trouble you've caused me!"

Potter, his voice rough with pain, retorted, "Not as much as you caused me by murdering my parents!"

(Slap!) "Shut up! Why can't I get off this bloody mountain!"

Severus blinked. What?

"I told you, I don't know!"

(Slap!) "You're lying, you brat! What is this place! Answer me, or I'll use the other hand!"

Severus pressed his fists against the cold gray stone. He had to be rational…he had to bide his time and wait for the right moment…Touch him again, and you'll pay dearly, Wormtail.

"Look, you can hit me all night—I don't know!" the boy cried. His voice was shaking with pain and anger. Snape took deep breaths to calm down and keep from acting rashly. But it was difficult. He slowly edged up and peered through the window.

Luck, it seemed, was still with him; Wormtail's back was turned. The rat was pacing in jittery frustration around a barren room with a fire burning on the smooth floor. There were several columns rising from floor to ceiling, and in the flickering light, Severus saw Potter's profile next to one of them. He was tightly bound in a standing position with his arms forced behind him around the column. The boy sagged against the ropes, and Severus grimly wondered how much more abuse he could take.

Just then, Pettigrew turned around, and Severus ducked and held his breath as footsteps stalked toward the window. Wormtail aimed his wand outside and tried to send up sparks. Severus frowned in confusion when nothing happened.

Wormtail tried again. "Lumos!" Still nothing. While Severus was confused, the rat became still more infuriated. Spitting, he left the window, and Severus clenched his teeth at the sound of another blow. "What…did…you…do!" Pettigrew screeched, punctuating each word with a slap.

"Nothing! It's not me!" Potter grunted, and Severus dared another look in time to see Pettigrew conjure a piece of cloth, which he roughly shoved into the boy's mouth.

"It must be you," the rat growled, though his quavering voice betrayed him. "My wand works except for when I try to send a signal!" Cursing, he conjured more cloth and carried it in his silver hand toward the fire. "You'll get plenty more of the Cruciatus when I've found the others!"

Where magic fails, do it the Muggle way, Severus thought, realizing Pettigrew meant to use the fire as a signal, and readied himself. As soon as Pettigrew's back was completely to the window, Severus jumped upon the sill and launched himself with all his might. It was made difficult by the injuries he'd sustained, but he still managed to slam his body into the rat, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Two wands, the second knocked from a pocket, went skittering across the floor, and Snape and Pettigrew engaged in a mad scramble to seize them. Severus lost, but Pettigrew's first curse missed, and he managed to snag his own wand to shoot one back. That missed as well. Then his luck ran out.

"Expelliarmus!" Pettigrew's Disarming Charm sent Snape's wand flying across the room and knocked him onto his back. He looked up, despairing, as the other wizard took dead aim. "Avad—"

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Potter's face turn toward the fire in a quick, sharp movement. All at once, the smokeless flames seemed to leap into the air of their own accord, and flew across the room to set Pettigrew's robes alight. Wormtail screeched in panic and clawed at his burning garments for the second time that night as Severus leapt for his own wand. But even in his panic, the rat had the sense not to stick around to become a target, and ran, still batting at his robes, to the window and jumped out. Severus retrieved his wand and sprinted after him, firing off curses that went wide due to his haste, but then something made him pause.

Wormtail had scrambled for cover behind a boulder, but was now coming out again, despite the fact that Severus was standing openly in the window. He stared in complete disbelief, eyes scanning the area rapidly, and it dawned on Snape that Pettigrew could no longer see the house. Obviously he had found it before, and sheltered himself and his prisoner here, but now that Severus had come for the boy, the rat could not return. And he had not been able to find his way off the mountain, or signal his compatriots, or…what IS this place?

Severus shook off that line of thought, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, and watched as the defeated traitor shuffled off down the hill, searching for the still-elusive fellow-Death-Eaters. When he had gone, Snape let out the breath he'd been holding. His side was burning something fierce, but he ignored it and turned back toward the column where Potter was bound.

Briskly, Severus went to release him, but a single look at Potter's face made him stop in his tracks. The boy's expression was one of helpless, desperate panic; unable to speak past the tight gag, his eyes were locked upon Snape's as though he were begging the man for help.

Draco…

Now how in God's name could Harry Potter remind him of Draco? Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter could not look or be less alike if they tried. So why had the thought of Draco struck Severus with such intensity that it took his breath away?

It was the eyes…but Draco's were narrow and gray, and Potter's were large and green. So why would he…it was the fear, it suddenly dawned on Severus. That's what it was.

It was not even the same degree of fear. Draco's frightened outrage did not hold a candle to the stark terror that burned in Harry Potter's eyes at this moment. He was not afraid of Snape, but something in the way he looked at the adult wizard was precisely the same as what Severus had seen in Draco's eyes only a few days before. Both looked to Snape as their only source of rescue.

He forced his mind off it and went to work on the bonds. "Hold still. Dissendium" The cloth tore neatly, and Severus removed the gag from Potter's mouth. The boy remained silent and squeezed his eyes shut as Severus cut the ropes. "There, are you—"

He was completely unprepared for the boy falling into his arms with a strangled gasp, shaking like a leaf. Rocking back in surprise, Snape managed to keep them both from toppling over, stunned as he was to find Harry Potter literally clinging to him, the boy's face buried in Snape's robes. Even days ago, he might well have shoved the boy away in revulsion, but now he could not seem to find the will—or even the disgust needed to do it.

Instead, Severus awkwardly held him up. Perhaps it was merely exhaustion that prevented the boy from standing on his own. "Potter…it's all right. He's gone. Calm down."

To his intense relief, Potter did let go, though he was leaning heavily against the column and breathing far too fast. "S-sorry," he whispered shakily as he sank to his knees. "I don't…like being…tied up."

Oh. Of course. At Death Eater bragging sessions, Wormtail's favorite story was of tying the famous Harry Potter to a tombstone. Or rather, of the then-fourteen-year-old's terror as he was bound, beaten, and cut, and forced to watch his parents' murderer restored to full life.

It almost made Severus put an arm around him. To stave off that bizarre impulse, he hurriedly reached into his pocket and pulled out the last remaining vial of Vitalizing Potion. "Drink this."

That was a mistake. Potter wrenched away from him in a panic, blindly scrambling to his feet and making a staggering dash for the doorway. Severus all but tackled him, and the boy fought wildly, beyond all sense. Severus was at a loss to do anything but hold on until it dawned on him what had happened to Potter in the last few hours: spirited away to the stronghold of his enemies, bound, tortured, and now facing a vial of strange potion.

"Potter, listen to me! It's only a restorative! You don't have to drink it! Listen to me! Potter! HARRY!"

The boy went limp in his arms, and for a moment, Severus thought he had collapsed. But then he drew in a shaky breath and whispered, "What?"

"You don't…have…to drink it," Snape repeated. Potter was silent, and Severus steered him to the fireside and conjured a blanket. "Relax. Pettigrew cannot find this place again, it seems. Look at me." The boy raised his head, and Severus examined his face. His lip was split, one side of his face bruised and puffy from the worst of Wormtail's blows. A few charms brought the swelling down, but the bruising would have to heal on its own. "Are there any other injuries?"

"Hands're a bit...numb."

Severus took the boy's arm and rolled up the sleeve of his jumper, finding dark bruises on his wrist indicating how tightly Pettigrew had bound him. He gripped Potter's hands in each of his. "Can you grip?" Potter tried, but the grip was weak, which worried Severus. The boy had not been bound for that long, but Severus had no potions or spells for possible nerve damage. Still, if there was nothing he could do, there was no point in sharing that information. "Flex your fingers. Continue, and they should begin to recover." Potter did, holding his hands out toward the fire. "Anything else?"

The boy shook his head. "No," he murmured. "I don…don't think so."

Severus , he pulled out the vial again. "It is Vitalizing Potion, and you need it, Potter. It will help."

Slowly, Potter reached out and took it, swallowing the contents. His green eyes cleared, but Snape's relief was short-lived. The boy swallowed again, thickly; it was as Severus had feared, he was becoming dehydrated. "I didn't…sorry, it was stupid," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't know why I panicked like that."

"No, it was understandable—" Severus began, but then he broke off, astonished at his own words and the feeling that had driven them. Potter was staring at him in surprise. Severus looked away and grimaced.

Damn this place anyway.