Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Ch 7 Everything will be alright
Lucius Malfoy isn’t sure what he should be feeling right now, he sends possibly the hundredth glare towards the old man’s back in the past half an hour, who is lowering his head and discussing with the others, well, mainly arguing the Malfoy’s trustworthiness, as if they aren’t there.

Humiliated; he resists the urge to fight against the magically conjured ropes binding him. The head of the house of Malfoy, the icon of the social elite within the wizarding world, a member of the school’s Board of governors, revered within the pureblood circle, being tied up, and left there on the stone floor like a speck of dust that is about to be brushed off to a corner.

Proud; when his son stood in front of him, prior to this… indignity. He’s using all his skills to force down his lips from quirking up, at his son, who is kneeling beside his wife in front of him. Snarling at whoever even glanced at them, and sends reassuring smiles at his parents. Something hit in his well-concealed heart and mind, that their little boy, who, two months ago was still beaming like a child when they bought him a brand-new quidditch maintenance kit along with a Hebridean dragonhide wand holster, lined with Welsh green scales.

The hand on his tied arms tightens, “Father?” A voice calls to him, calm and commanding. Lucius wakens from his reverie and finds his own glacial silver eyes looking back at him, with a gaze that could pierce bedrock. His little boy, a little taller as he kneels over the man, platinum gold hair that shimmers like ripples across the quiet lake at sunrise, his brows knit together, lips thinned. Despite the commotion when they initially arrived, the collar of his shirt remains straight, white, and untainted, the composure and expression of a true pureblood, upstanding heir.

Their son’s gentle grasp at his arm sends a warm straight to his chest, despite being separated by layers of suits and the cloak.

“I am well, Draco.” Lucius is unsure if the time with his son was obliviated, the young man seems to grow by the inch each time he blinks. Judging by the look on his wife’s face, he can’t help but think she would agree with the sentiment as well.
“Oh, Albus please, this is a great risk!” a bush of flaming red rushes through the crowd, straight towards the headmaster. “Harry is in danger, he’s probably using this time to infiltrate the school with more death eaters too! And take our children!” Molly Weasley wails almost hysterically, fists quaking at her sides, and trying to shake her husband’s hand off the shoulder.

“That’s right!” Sirius Black steps up “If trusting one death eater is not enough already, Snivellous took my godson and served him on a platter to You-Know-who, now you’re getting more people into Hogwarts, are you out of your mind Dumbledore!” Almost choking at the last word, the dog animagus runs his hands up the messy bangs, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his eyes looking wildly across the office. Lupin, that werewolf, catches up to his friend, holding his friend across the shoulder, whispering low at his ear. “NO MOONY THEY CAN’T BE TRUSTED.” the man shrieks, pushing the scarred man back.

Oh, how Lucius wish to throttle that dog.

Another man in deep cobalt robes steps forward, Kingsley, Lucius recognizes, speaks in an even voice, “ Perhaps we can try administer the veritaserum, Headmaster.” He looks towards the family, and nods at the younger Slytherin, despite who Draco’s wand is aiming at, “If they brought their son with them their words should hold some merit, if not all.”

Dumbledore glides his hands down his long white beard, stopping at the cuff, wringing it between his fingers, his eyes linger on one of the stone tiles, blue eyes unblinking behind the half-moon spectacles. Others stand beside him forming an arch, waiting for the Headmaster’s verdict, and occasionally stealing glances at the kneeling Malfoys.

“Fawkes.” Before Lucius could register, the metal chain he’s been holding on for dear life slides itself away from his hand like a retracting whip, bursting into a ball of fire, like a new Sun born within the confinements of the office. The radiated power pushes Lucius straight to his wife, in which the order members staggers a step backward as well. Out from the blinding light spreads a pair of fiery wings, a mirror image to the engraved figure on the plate, in its full glory.

The phoenix circles once above the crowd before landing onto Dumbledore’s outstretched arm, its red-feathered tail dangling on the side elegantly, like the silk curtains in the bedrooms of Malfoy Manor. The bird lets out a gentle trill, like a short serenade as the man lowers his head to smile and listen, nodding along with his song. While Lucius contemplates if he should try to eradicate Dumbledore from his position, for health reasons, the members of this…order either anticipate answers from the manor in a heated debate on whether to trust the Malfoy or not.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Albus Dumbledore guide’s his familiar back to his perch next to the raised platform, his grandfatherly voice gathering everyone’s attention. “I think you’re aware why lowering the school wards is a great risk, so do convince me, why should I do as you suggest?” he asked calmly, though lacking the warmth that normally comes with it.

“Why? What are you playing at headmaster?” Lucius stands up with the help of his son, while others immediately point their wands at them. “How else is your blasted savior boy going to get in? Let him bang his head against the shield? Or luck his way through the wards?” Lucius takes a step forward, ignoring Narissa’s warning, “Your spy, your own man, sent me with the bird here to give you the message. He pushed me! To come over just to fore-warn you! My son is a student here, my wife has nothing to do with our Lord, he had me promise to grovel at your feet just to ‘save my own family, haven’t we’ve stooped low enough just to beg you lower the wards for one moment?” The patriarch was yelling at the end, and he grimaces at his very un-Malfoy-ish display.

“I also find it very reasonable for us to doubt your intentions, Lucius my boy,” Dumbledore smiles serenely at the man’s growl, “how should I confirm that you’re not here for Voldermort?”

Lucius flinches at the name, his scowl even deeper “The necklace-”.

“My friend here, sadly can’t provide much confirmation that I need.”

“He gave it to me, and It stayed with me.”

“It could also have been you, Mr. Malfoy, murdering the traitor and taking Fawkes, devising a plan to destroy the school, perhaps gaining a higher position in Tom’s ranks too?”

“Damnation! You old coot!” Lucius finds his throat in contact with several cold tips of wands, and his Draco’s arm at his waist, holding him back. “The Potter boy could be coming right now! And Severus could already have been-” strands of blonde falls to his face, hiding his cold irises “dead.”

Arthur Weasley thinks he hears a tremor at the last word, but surely he was imagining things.

Sirius Black allows his outstretched wand go slack, “He better be.” he says, an uncontrolled sneer plastered onto his face, eyes smiling with glee.

The Malfoy’s expressions turn to that of unfiltered abhorrence, Draco snaps his head towards the disowned cousin, his eyes feral, face contorts in rage, pointing the wand at the man “SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAI–”

“FUCK YOU YOU PRAT!” The youngest Weasley boy steps in front of his family shouts.

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!” the two older redheads admonished, reeling their son back next to them.

“Step back, Weasel.” Draco sneers, wand switching towards the younger Gryffindor.

“DRACO!” the Malfoy’s exclaims, in which the young Slytherin looks back at them in shock. Taking a deep breath, he drops his wand, but his glare unrelenting.

“Listen you brat,” Sirius takes a step forward, grey eyes glinting maliciously, “You lot and Snivellous are the traitors, slimy death eaters, a whole lot of you.”

“Watch your mouth, Sirius Black.” The temperature in the office dropped immediately the moment Narcissa spews that name packed with venom, her face dangerously impassive, the surrounding magic crackling like an ignited fuse. Her spine is straight, and while her arms are being tied, the air of authority and superiority never leaves her as if the handicap is none of her business, she is every bit of The lady of a noble house, elegant but fierce.

Lucius Malfoy thinks he might be enamored with the same person for the second time.

Dumbledore hums and turns back to face the crowd, “Very well, I’ll lower the wards.”

“Albus!”

“Dumbledore this is madness!”

“However,” the headmaster waves the other’s concerns away, “I’d like something in exchange.”

Lucius stares at the man, eyes widening, and his mouth goes dry. “Don’t you have enough on your checkered board already?”

“Oh?” the headmaster lays a gentle hand on Lucius’s shoulder, ignoring the blonde’s wave of shiver “And what of yours my boy?”

“Familia Ante Omnia.” Lucius replies, his chin raised, voice projecting across the office, like how he would deliver a decree in the ministry, the motto of a noble house is not to be undermined.

“And what will you offer for dear Draco and Narcissa’s safety?”

Blue eyes twinkling, expecting.

His wife and son shake their heads, urging him to stop.

“Then at least Draco will be safe, and you will have a choice if you’re fortunate enough.” Severus told him as such.

Cold sweat pools at his clenched fists.

“Any-”

A sudden flicker of light within the office interrupts their negotiation, the candles and the fire in at the fireplaces dancing violently despite the lack of wind, the chandelier above the crowd dies and reignites, the light blinks like eyes as the room alternates between well-lit and drowned in darkness. The ground, no, Hogwarts herself is rumbling, quaking in displeasure, perhaps wounded.

“What’s going on?” Lupin holds his friend close, looking at the odd movements of the ball of flame at the torch above.

Albus Looks towards the perched phoenix, now bowing its head and intones a low lament, and when he looks back at Lucius Malfoy, the man is clutching his head with the marked arm, “Mr. Malfoy?”

The man meets his eye, panicked, “He’s here.”

The headmaster raises his arms, wand in hand “Abbssarsi!” he commands, a low groan can be heard across the proximity of the school. Light continues to flicker and dim as the air grows heavier, almost suffocating with metaphorical hands pressing hard onto their lungs. The shelves and portraits of former headmasters shudder against the wall, the people within cry and escape from their canvas to the far corners near the staircases. Arthur Weasley steps in front of his wife, one arm wrapping at her waist and the other hugging the youngest girl close. The two Aurors and the deputy headmistress cast a Protego around the people, the latter looks at the headmaster tentatively, whose eyes narrow at the commotion.

A loud explosion and the sound of shattering sound rings at the far end of the office, near the observatory, glass shards scattering all across the telescope and down to the stairs linking the raised podium, moonlight glimmering across them. Followed by strong gusts of wind.

“What the-”

“Hell is that?” Fred finishes the question for his twin, he points at the window through the gaps of stone pillars.

McGonagall hesitantly takes a step near Dumbledore, both of their wand raised, “Albus?” She squints in the pointed direction, something, like a ball of smoke writhing above the black lake, steadily growing bigger. The headmaster abruptly grasps her arm, “Better stand back Minerva, Protego Totalum!”

The smoke isn’t growing.

It’s coming closer, straight towards them.

“Oh that impetuous… back to the walls!” The Malfoy patriarch yells, shoving his wife and son behind him.

The next thing they hear is the howling wind, the office lights continue to dim a shade darker, the order scrambles to protect the younger ones with more shields, and Draco holding one up on his own around his parents. Something like a black shooting star bursts through the shattered lancet window, ribbon-like trails of smoke billowing behind it, distorting as it knocks across the large shelves of books and paintings, blocking out the light above the crowd. With a final hard slam against the wall opposite to the elevated platform, the “thing” slides down onto the floor, ribbons of smoke still moving above the core like black fumes rising from chimneys. The office grows dead silent, quakes stopping along with the ceasing strong breeze.

Lucius daringly raises his head to look at the chaos surrounding them, parchments and trinkets scattered all over the place. Painted predecessors are all cramped to the frames above the three Malfoy’s, muttering and speculating what has barged into the room.

Dumbledore slowly rises from behind the shields, “Sarcio Tutela.” he waves his wand above, drawing an arch. A line of pale light rises outside the window, surrounding the school once more with an invisible dome. With that, he turns to the heap of black, and treks towards it.

The silence is interrupted with several harsh coughs and groans, two prone figures appearing through the dispersing smoke, a man in thick black robes holding a familiar teenager tight in his arms like a cacoon, as the boy hold’s a fistful of the cloak of the man, before rolling off, back flat onto the floor.

“Harry!” “Harry! Severus!” Sirius and Albus bolt towards the two, kneeling beside their ragged forms, the others draw close to the boy with varying degrees of worry. “Harry wake up!” Sirius frantically pats the younger boy on the cheek, “Oh gods, don’t do this to me Prongslet, please…”. Minerva quickly kneels beside the headmaster next to a panicking Ron Weasley, hand clutched over her mouth, eyes suspiciously gleaming over the usual sternness, her sight lingering between her student and colleague. “Merlin…” she gasps when she noticed trails of red on the stone floor.

While he hears Molly Weasley wailing “Oh! Poor boys!” onto her husband’s shoulder, Lucius staggers up, trying to catch a glimpse at the other still figure on the floor, his wife’s stoic expression but uneven breath allows his normally cold heart filled with fear for his friend.

“Severus…” He hears his son whisper, who is at the brink of tears. Lucius doesn’t dare take a step further, and for the first time in his life, something invokes an unspeakable fear within him, that of what he might see, or who he might see nevermore.



Clearer shapes start to form from the sea of blurred colors as Severus slowly rises to consciousness, other than the blaring pain at the back of his head and his lower left abdomen, he could hear someone shouting Potter’s name outside of his pounding adrenaline-fueled heartbeat. “Thank Merlin Severus.” A piece of blond swims into view “Blink if you understand me.”

Narcissa, Severus recognizes her voice, he looks around, spotting a concerning Draco and his father standing behind her, the knot in his stomach relaxed as he is eternally grateful that Lucius listened to him once. But what happened?

“Harry! Stop-” the mutt’s plead was cut short when an inhuman guttural sound breaks into his still ringing ears, like a beast crying to be let out of a cage, with great force he turns his head around, facing the crowd. The boy is ashen-faced, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, body arching like someone is trying to snap him in half as he continues to shake like a leaf in a storm, he screams something at the people, but more so a series of hisses. At the corner of Severus’s eyes, he sees the headmaster and Minerva in a rare display of visible distress directed at the boy, the bearded man holding the boy’s chin and boring his eyes into those pools of emerald green “Stay out Tom… stay out…” Albus continues to mutter, while the Gryffindor head of house holds Potter’s hand up to her cheek, tears trailing down her features.

His mind suddenly plunges into ice-cold clarity; the antidote he warmed and poured down to his throat, the image of the dark lord staring into Potter, the boy screaming in pain under his feet, them flying and apparating into the night, and landed in Albus’s study…

Did the potion not work? Severus jolts up, struggling not to drop beside Potter, a few audible gasps can be heard as he makes his presence known.

“Severus… oh gods..” Minerva exclaims.

“Not now Minerva,” he’s noticing how raspy his voice is, along with the wetness at his face, “Legilimens!”.

He goes straight into the mind of the boy and feels surprised that there’s a thin layer of wall blocking his entrance, though none that he can’t penetrate through.

The moment he steps through, something unspeakably horrid starts to overwhelm his senses. He arrives at a sea of blood, the sky is filled with twitching black veins, extending and branching out to the pure white sky from the horizon, the air reeks of something rancid, reminding him of Pettigrew’s lack of hygiene, the troll that went rogue in the dungeon when the boy first came to Hogwarts, and the dozen of mutilated bodies he was forced to witness being burnt or dumped in the past decade.

He sees a wraith-like figure trying to latch itself onto the boy’s image, trying to push the boy into the liquid and falling back into the blood, Albus is constructing some kind of invisible wall, shielding himself and Potter.

[ Professor! ] the boy calls out to the headmaster, attempting to aid him, but fails when he is pulled down once again by decaying hands that rise from blood. He frantically tries to hold onto the headmaster’s outreached hand, kicking off the restraints as he does.

Severus runs towards the two, not before noticing a thick string of green and black fog twirling around Potter, slowly engulfing a strand of gold. The magical core, the man realizes, It’s going to destroy it.

[ Albus! Leave the shield up and get out! ]

The two within the wall seem to notice, Albus looking at him like he is the most unbelievable thing [ We can’t leave Harry like this Severus! ] the older man yells across the now turbulent waves of red, [ Tom is trying to destroy him inside out!].

Dark crimson is now reaching the boy’s calves, the hands continue to desperately crawl at him like a lifesaver, the veins high above are steadily covering the sky, the dark lord is making a move.

[ I’m not leaving. ] Severus breaks into a run towards them, snatching his legs off the inferi-like creatures as he slams his occlumency shields down, he picks up the boy in his arms, fingers now climbing across his ankle, ignoring how the boy just buries his head into his chest, the man constructs a broader mental shield around them[ Go, trust me in this. ].

With a nod, Albus releases his hold from Potter’s mind, disappearing into the crashing waves of blood.

The boy is trembling in his arms, despite only being a mental image, Severus can’t help but think of him as Lily’s child, no, there’s something he missed when he learns how Petunia is somehow a part of the golden boy’s life.

[ You will be alright, Potter ]

With that, he covers his hand over the boy’s emerald green eyes, [Dormir.] the boy went slack, the spell should shield the boy away from the attacking link temporarily, this should buy him enough time. He lays the boy on the clear water within the shield and pulls himself out.

“Snape!” Black yells “What did you do to him you bastard!” he lifts Severus’s collar and shakes him.

“If you want your precious godson back without mental damage like you, I suggest you wear your muzzle and sit in a corner Black.” Severus roughly wipes off the blood at his left cheek and under his nose. He searches the boy’s pockets and retrieves the silver focus stone, “Albus, Minerva, hold the boy down.”

“Severus,” Albus squeezes the younger man’s shoulder “bring Harry to us.”, he smiles at him, the same one that pushed him forward in life.

With a nod, he takes the boy’s hand in his own, the silver pointing at the scarred head.

“Hold my hand.”

“Follow my lead.”

“Channel your voice so Lady magic may hear.”

“Everything will be alright, Severus.”


He remembers, so he sings.

“Rami supra, radix infra…”

It’s natural to him, water running through a stream, magic reaching down to the boy.



The last thing Harry remembers, is being trapped in some sea, Dumbledore was there, and Snape too?

A small hand is shaking his arm, and someone singing softly nearby.

Slowly opening his eyes, he’s greeted with a young girl, the same one he saw during his fever dreams, a mob of bright copper, sparkling emerald eyes, and the familiar smile widening when the girl sees him awake.

“Mom?” He didn’t hold back the tremor at his throat, nor did he hesitate to return his embrace when the girl wrap her arms around his neck.

[Potentia a sole, almitas a luna.]

Harry looks around, he’s in somewhere bright, sitting in the field of endless violets, the gentle wind caressing him as the song continues like someone is hugging him close, soothing his fears. Just when he’s trying to figure out what is going to happen, his…mother tugs at his trousers, points towards something far in the sea of purple.

[ Amnis fluente, purgat maculam. Clemens vento, vulnera sanat. ]

In the distance, a young boy with shoulder-length hair, his back facing them, carrying something in his arms.

His mother shouts something, animated, even though no sound comes out of her lips, the boy seems to hear it, he turns around and beams at both of them, waving, a bundle of something fuzzy cradled in the right arm.

[ Anima eius pura est, depello infecta. ]

The song in the air continues, the melody seems to be concluding, the girl pushes Harry a little, and gesture him to walk to where the boy is, her encouraging smile unwavering as Harry walks forward, occasionally glancing back. A stark line of brilliant white separates the violets to a new field of lilies, surrounding the boy in an oversized and worn-down beige coat.

[ Ergo imperio meo, ]

Harry finds it difficult to focus on the boy’s face, like how faces would be blurred out in dreams. But this isn’t a normal dream, isn’t it? The boy is bouncing a little bit when the older slows down in front of him, he has been waiting for his arrival. His free hand outstretched, which Harry wraps the tiny fingers in his own.

[ Tutus es in manibus mei. ]

His sight is engulfed into a flash of white.

After a moment, noise and colors start to seep back into his awareness.

“Mister Potter, can you hear me?” A raspy baritone voice asks “squeeze my hand if you’re with us.”

Squeeze the hand? That’s easy.

“Glad to have you back with us, my boy” Dumbledore brushes off the fringes from Harry’s forehead.

The faces around him are now clearer, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Remus, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Padfoot licking his face. Never had he felt so relieved to see them all again, when hours ago he was pondering how they would react to his death, he’s finally awakened from the nightmare. But instead of lying on a stone-cold floor, his back feels cushioned, noting he is lying on a thin layer of glowing mist, in the shape of an ethereal bed of lilies.

He looks a the cold hand he’s been holding on and sees a very bloodied Snape, his hawk-like nose wrinkled, onyx eyes glazed, with blood smeared all across the left side of his pale face, there’s blood dripping out of his nostrils, and some from the corner of his mouth, thick locks of black hair obscuring his other eye.

“Sir…” Harry whispers at the man, giving the hand a firm squeeze.

The usually dour potions master offers the young man the tiniest smile, tugging at his lips. “Poppy, give him the energy replenisher, and check him for lingering curse effects.” Snape releases Harry’s hand, the silver wand hitting the ground with a clink. He stands up staggering against the wall, hand clutching his side.

“I think not, young man.” Madam Pomfrey rushes to him, not before shoving a bottle into Professor McGonagall’s hands. “You’ve probably been losing blood for Merlin knows how long. Minnie, feed Mr. Potter the replenisher.”

Several people gasps at the sight of the spy, as they’ve just noticed him, Remus quickly carries Harry to the sofa, and the transfiguration professor kneeling next to it, holding the bottle to the boy’s lips. He hears Ron “ Thank the gods mate” feeling a playful pat on his shoulder.

“Severus!”

The crowd at the other end of the office turns their heads towards the shout, Draco Malfoy at the floor crying the professor’s name, the man curled to his side, squirming and shaking in pain, his breath erratic, blood occasionally spurts through the clutched wound, his teeth clenched as to forbidden any noise coming out of his mouth. The older Malfoys kneeling beside their son, calling out the professor’s name with their arms awkwardly tied to their backs.

“Poppy?” The headmaster inquires, his eyes darting between his wounded colleague and the mediwitch, blue eyes filled with worry.

“Mr. Malfoy, lay him flat on the ground, Albus, cut his clothes open.” the Matron gives her commands while taking vials of various sizes and bandages out of her medic box. At the corner of Harry’s eye, Dumbledore visibly recoils at the sight of something, he pushes the exhausted body upwards, head now propped up at the armrest, curious at what could upset the fearless Hogwarts headmaster.

Under the voluminous layers of clothes, Harry sees the sickly thin frame of the potions professor, his ribs jutting out of the pale skin, some set at weird angles, while there’s a subtle line of muscles at his stomach, it’s mostly covered with familiar pulsing dark veins, a stab wound at its center, blood gushing out of it.

“Draco, roll his sleeve up.” Mrs. Malfoy moves closer to the prone figure, black seeps out of the eye sockets of the skull in the dark mark, slowly moving and covering the entire arm, and moving towards his neck.

“It’s Bella’s dagger,” the woman stares at the wound, a tip of metal buried deep into the flesh, yet the blade handle is nowhere to be seen “it’s resonating with the mark, you have to take it out.”

“No!” Madam Pomfrey blurts out “the metal pierced through his spleen, it’s acting as a cork to stop more blood flowing out, he’ll die like this.”

“Madame, the blood loss is the least of our concerns here, if the Dark Lord decided he should die right now he simply has to activate the mark in a matter of minutes, we need to take it out and sever the connection.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey retorts, somewhat breathlessly “I’m a trained healer, and Severus is in dire need of medical attention.”

“Excuse you, Madame, St. Mungo never trained their healers in dealing with extreme dark arts, especially not the ones from ancient houses, if you would please move out of the way so I can heal him!” Narcissa breaks her icy and composed demeanor, her shoulders shaking as speaks.

“Al.. bus…”

“Severus!” Dumbledore cups Snape’s face with his wrinkled hand, thumb wiping the blood off his lips, “what is it my boy?” he asks with such tenderness like a father to a son.

“ Let…Cissa…” The professor chokes out, blood and sweat trailing down to his ears, dripping onto the floor.

The ropes on Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy suddenly vanished, she summons her wand without a second thought. Taking the cloth and tweezers away from a very disgruntled Madam Pomfrey, she dabs the pooling blood around the wound, causing Snape to hiss in pain. Harry never thought he’d get to see the Malfoy’s as the caring sort, the sight of Draco Malfoy and his father surrounding his professor, holding his hand muttering “Hang on, Severus.” and the former tearing up “Please, professor.” was rather mind-boggling.

Lady Malfoy points her wand, her other bloodstained hand reaching the wound “Ready?”

With a nod, Snape braces himself, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

The woman slowly digs her fingers into the wound, ignoring the droplets of blood that are starting to spurt onto her porcelain cheek, chanting over and over as she carefully pulls out an impossibly long thin blade from Snape’s body, as it had expanded within his abdomen.

“Vulnera Sanentur…Vulnera Sanentur…”

Professor McGonagall, who is now standing beside Harry but facing the bloodied scene, is silently sobbing each time Snape lets out a muffled cry, shaking as he breathes rapidly, his body hold still by Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley desperately try to block their children’s view, while Kingsley, Tonks, and Remus continue to focus treating Harry’s bruises, and Padfoot resting his snout on his chest, jerking at the noise nearby.

Snape’s back arched upwards when the last of the cursed blade is out of his skin and tossed to the side. With a spell, Mrs. Malfoy mends the wound together, a blue glow envelopes the damaged area.

“Severus?” She shakes the professor’s shoulder, who is breathing heavily, and looks back at her. The dark Mark has returned to normal, and the black veins at the wound receded, leaving a reddened web behind. She smiles at him “It’s alright now, rest.”

There was a collective sigh in the room, Harry noticed the hazy tunneling eyes met his, he mouthed a small “thank you” at the man. Snape seems, oddly calm and relieved, and closes his eyes.

Harry feels exhausted too, with Remus repeatedly brushing his hair, he falls back into the dreams of a little girl in a field of flowers.

Everything will be alright.



English Translation:

Thy branches above,
thy Roots beneath,
The power of the Sun,
and nurture from the moon.
A flowing river, it cleanses the stains.
A gentle wind, it heals the wounds.
His soul is pure, expel the infected.
Therefore by my command,
you are safe in my hands.
Chapter End Notes:
I figured I'd put the translation in the chapter since the text in end notes seemed too compact, hope you don't mind.

The Malfoy motto “familia ante omnia” is a reference to a fellow writer — SaraJany’s work of the same name, here on Ao3. Highly recommend you to go read it as well :)

The song Severus sang is written by me, I did my best to write it in extremely broken Latin without relying entirely on Google translate (i used yandex and some other online dictionary). while I don't have enough time to compose a melody, do imagine its vibe similar to "Dal cielo cader vid'io due stelle" by Marco Marazzoli, it's one of my favourite vocal pieces.

Thank you for reading! comments, criticisms, and advice are much appreciated, see you all next chapter ! :D

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