Never Let Them See You Bleed

Starting the very day Harry was allowed out of bed, Severus immediately began teaching him a few rudimentary healing spells, designed to hold oneself together just long enough to reach a fully trained mediwizard. As the days turned into weeks, and the middle part of July rolled around, Harry was still waking up more often than not from a nightmare, and when he did, Severus would usually come into his room and stay until the young man fell asleep again. But as his strength increased, Severus (or Sev as Harry had taken to calling him, a distinction marked by the fact that Severus let him) began teaching him more Potions than he ever thought he could cram into his brain. And much to their surprise, Harry was fairly gifted with them.

"Of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts will probably always be your true love," Severus remarked dryly as Harry had once again wandered away from his Potions essay, due the first day of class.

"With my life, can you blame me?" Harry had countered just as dryly.

Severus nearly rolled his eyes, but restrained the impulse. "Just remember that essay is due the first day, and I do expect you to have it done."

"And it will be. If you don't pester me to death about it, I guarantee that Hermione will."

Severus nodded, partially mollified, but thinking furiously. He knew that Harry's birthday was fast approaching (since it was on his school file), and yet Harry hadn't mentioned it at all. Wondering about the silence, he stepped inside and sat down in his chair. Gazing blankly into space, his mind suddenly repeated what Harry had said. 'If you don't pester me to death about it, I guarantee that Hermione will.' He shook his head and rolled out a blank piece of parchment, then began to write.

Miss Granger -

As you may or may not know, Mr. Potter was forced to leave his relative's home under rather dire circumstances around the middle of June. I have been granted guardianship of Mr. Potter until he turns eighteen or his godfather is able to live freely. As his friend, I am sure that you will be able to answer a question that I have regarding Mr. Potter.

I'm sure that you are aware of his birthday approaching, and I am wondering why he doesn't mention it with any excitement, or even at all. Most students eagerly look forward to their birth date, yet Mr. Potter seems to be the exception. It's almost as if he expects us to forget it. Please send your reply with my owl promptly.

-Prof. Snape

Taking the letter to his owl, he watched as Balia's sable colored wings caught the sun, flashing red for a brief second before she flew further into the distance, becoming a speck on the horizon. Wandering back to his chair, he gazed into the ever-burning fire, charmed so that it blew cool air into the room during the summer. When Harry had asked him why he kept the fire burning all of the time, Severus had told him that only two other people besides they and Dumbledore knew that Haven existed, and if they ever needed to seek a little of the solace Haven provided, they could get in by Floo. Harry had silently nodded and left the subject alone, much to Severus' relief. He wasn't quite prepared to explain to the young man that one of the others that knew about Haven was the very one that caused him so much pain - pain from seeing her come to him when she was broken and bloody, only to go back to that home, and he could do nothing except love her from afar. Burying the pain under an emotionless mask, he sighed and got up to prod Harry into finishing his essay.

Balia returned while Severus and Harry were clearing up the remains of their dinner, dropping the parchment she carried right onto his plate. Stuffing the letter into his back pocket, he finished helping Harry clean the table, then sent the young man upstairs to work on one of the more difficult potions he felt Harry was ready to learn.

Harry, sensing his guardian wanted to open the letter he received in private, trudged up the stairs even as curiosity was yelling that he should just put on the Invisibility Cloak and read over Sev's shoulder. Flopping down on his bed, he grimaced as he looked at the ingredients for the so-called One Night Stand potion. Harry chuckled as he recalled Sev's lecture on how the unassuming potion got its name.

"This potion is also called the One Night Stand potion."

Harry, being a teenager, couldn't help but smile at the moniker. "The One Night Stand potion?" he asked laughingly.

"It's a derivative of a love potion, which, as I'm sure you know, are -"

"Controlled strictly by the Ministry of Magic. In their purest forms, such as the Infinite Love potion, are banned from being used against another human being, be they Muggle or magical," Harry parroted back.

Sev raised an eyebrow even as his lips twitched upwards. "The One Night Stand isn't as strictly controlled, simply because as the name suggests, it only lasts for one night. But what is quite different about this potion is that it simply doesn't affect the receiver. It affects the giver as well."

"What do you mean by 'giver'? Would that be the potion brewer?" Harry asked.

"In some cases, they are one and the same, but whomever gives the potion to another, knowingly or not, is affected."

"So what does it do?"

"It either causes love to bloom fully or will stop unrequited love." He sighed. "The two affected people will spend the night together, in every way," he added, watching a blush crawl into Harry's cheeks. "When they finally fall asleep shortly before dawn, if feelings are there, they will stay and grow stronger, and the lovers will wake up in each other's arms."

"And if it's one-sided?"

"Then as soon as the sun comes up, they will both get up, dress, and go their separate ways, not remembering a thing of what happened. The love that one held will simply wither and die, allowing that person to move on."

"But what if they love each other like friends? Or what if they're related?"

"Ah, I should have been more specific about the 'love' part. It only causes true, passionate love to blossom. Now, I've never personally heard of any stories about relations being given this potion, as it is always a test of love, but I'm sure that anything could happen."

"And there's no counter-potion?"

"The only cure is sex," Sev said in his teacher-voice.

Harry sighed, fidgeting. The ingredients were in his room, as were the instructions, he just couldn't find the motivation to get up and start preparing the potion. Five minutes later, the motivation still not there, he got up and wandered back down the stairs, making plenty of noise to warn Sev of his arrival.

"Sev?"

"Yes, Harry?" he replied, setting down his potions book.

"I was wondering i-if I could owl Hermione or Ron."

"I don't see why not. Just don't mention this place by name, or give out any clues to its location, all right?"

Harry burst off the couch, hugging Severus in an uncontrollable emotional outburst, then zoomed back upstairs, supposedly to write his friends. Shaking his head, he pulled the letter back out and re-read it for the fifth time.

Prof. Snape-

Is Harry all right? What happened to him? Is that why both Ron and I have been getting our letters back?

As for Harry's birthday, it all goes back to his living with those horrible Dursleys. Harry once told me that they only gave him old, rotten things that they never wanted for his birthday and for Christmas. I suspect that they made him feel as if he were only a burden to them, not deserving of anything good or kind. Half the time, I think he actually expects us to forget his birthday, that way he won't be too disappointed if everyone does.

-Hermione Granger

Thinking long and hard for a moment, he smiled slightly as he grabbed a fresh piece of parchment.

Miss Granger-

Thank you for the information. I would not be surprised if Mr. Potter owls you a letter sometime in the near future. He is healthy, and about as all right as he can be under the circumstances. As for the other two questions, that is information he will have to tell you on his own.

Please do not bother sending presents, as you may visit and deliver them personally.

-Prof. Snape

Sending the letter, he smiled as he saw the snow white owl fly out of Harry's room and follow Balia's path. As he stared out the window, he pondered the pressing logistical problem served up to him by his rash invitation. How exactly was he going to get Harry's friends to Haven without the use of Floo (which was too easily tracked, since locations had to be yelled, and he didn't feel like giving up his hiding place) or Apparation (which the children couldn't use yet). That left him with two options: broomsticks or a Portkey. Severus guarded his privacy like a dragon guarding a nest and it pained him greatly to let others in on the still-secret location. Even Harry wasn't quite sure where Haven was, but Severus had the feeling that it didn't bother him too much, since if he didn't know where he was, then no one else could find him. That option ruled out, it left only a Portkey as a transportation device. The only snag in that plan was the fact that he had never set up a Portkey before. Voldemort had only allowed Appration to him, and Hogwarts, being protected by the Anti-Apparation barrier, was connected by a few fireplaces (obscurely named, of course) to the Floo network, and was always reachable by broomstick if one knew where they were going.

Of course, there was the logical thought of simply going somewhere else...

Shaking his head, Severus put it out of his mind. There were still two weeks to go before Harry's birthday, and Severus knew from bitter experience that two weeks, hell, even two hours could change everything.

By the time July 30th had come by, Severus had already planned with Arthur Weasley to hold a birthday celebration for Harry at the Burrow, and had done a magnificent job of keeping those plans from Harry. That very night, Severus was pacing the living room as a thunderstorm raged overhead. The charmed fire alternately blew cool and warm air into the room, keeping the temperature pleasant, and Severus kept looking at it, as if it were going to suddenly turn green and spit out two people.

Harry, not particularly bothered by the storm, filled the silence of the room with the soft scratching of his quill on parchment, still working on his Potions essay, more than three-quarters of the way done by now. Stopping only to think through his next sentence, he bit the top of his quill before dipping it into the ink and resuming writing. For some reason, he just felt extremely inspired by Sev's mere presence, and had vowed to finish the essay that night. His lips twitched into a smile. Either he was inspired, or Hermione was possessing him. The smile dropped into the biting of his quill as he thought of how often one of his best friends was popping up in his thoughts. The trend was more than a bit disturbing since he was supposedly still infatuated with Cho Chang, the lovely Ravenclaw Seeker. But now, Harry could barely pull up a mental picture of her, and when he was able to, it was of the last time he had seen her, tears streaming down her face, at the Leaving Feast almost two months before. He was mired so deeply into his thoughts that he didn't even notice the swiftly changing appearance of the fire.

Severus, however, did and cursed quietly. She would be coming to him, once more almost beaten beyond recognition, he would heal her, and once again, she would walk out of his life until the next time. It was a vicious cycle, one that he hoped one day she would break, even if it meant never seeing her outside of a professional interest. Looking over at Harry, who was absently chewing on the end of his quill while thinking, his bright green eyes glazed over as they stared at a point on the far wall.

"Harry," he called, just loud enough to be heard over the storm and the young man's thoughts, but not so loud as to startle him badly, which he was still prone to equate to a coming blow.

Blinking, his thoughts derailed for the moment, Harry looked quickly about him and noticed the changing fire, just before it blazed up, and turned a shade of green that almost matched his eyes. Standing, he found his wand in his hand, preparing for whoever might be coming in. But he certainly wasn't prepared for the twin heads of blonde hair that popped through. Narcissa Malfoy looked nothing like the woman he had met last summer. She wasn't sneering, her lips were swelling and both had been split, she wasn't fixing him with a gray-eyed glare, one of her eyes was swollen shut, her skin didn't look absolutely perfect, her face alone had three bruises starting to bloom, with another two starting to heal elsewhere. She didn't stand tall and proud, she was dependent upon her son for help walking as she was heavily favoring her right leg, and the arm that wasn't looped about Draco's chest was curled protectively across her ribs, and the hunched-over position she was in told Harry that at least one of her ribs was broken.

Severus was directing Draco to help his mother over to lie down on the couch as he called various things to him: a potion to block the pain, some pillows to help support her back, and a potion mixed as a cream to make the worst of the bruises go away. Looking over Draco, Severus noted more than a few bruises, and as soon as his mother's weight was off him, the arms that curled protectively across his stomach. Harry grabbed Severus' arm to get his attention.

"She's hurt worse than he is. I'll see what I can do for him while you help his Mum." Severus nodded, smiling a bit at the very adult like attitude displayed by a not-quite-fifteen year old boy. Turning back to Narcissa with a sigh, he wondered if she would even stay long enough to let the bones heal this time.

Dragging a silent Draco into the kitchen, Harry pointed silently to a chair. Surprisingly enough, he did sit down with no arguments. Harry's eyes narrowed. Maybe he was hurt worse than what he initially thought. "So, any bones broken?" he asked.

Draco just shook his head, letting his eyes flicker back and forth between his school rival and the room where his mother lay. He wasn't sure why Harry Potter was here, when Snape had told him quite forcefully that very few people knew about Haven. Breathing deeply to keep from throwing up, he winced as the bile burned the back of his throat. He could hear Potter moving around the kitchen, but drew back instantly when a glass was thrust into his hands. Looking down at the glass, he saw it was filled up with a bluish liquid that shimmered when it caught the light.

"It's perfectly safe. A simple potion to reduce nausea," Harry told him as he sat down as well. Draco looked back and forth from the potion to Harry for a moment. "Will you stop dragging your feet? If it makes you feel any better, Sev made that, not me."

After beating back another wave of nausea, Draco mentally shrugged and lifted the glass to his lips, keeping his eyes on his rival at all times. After finishing the glass, he raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Sev?"

Harry shrugged. "I couldn't keep calling him Professor all of the time, and Severus is such a mouthful." His boyish features became serious, adding a few years to his face. "So how long has he been hitting you?"

Draco internally froze. "I don't know what you're talking about, Potter," he sneered.

Harry snorted. "Don't try and give me some excuse about falling down the stairs or running into a door, or even a Quidditch accident, because I'm not going to buy it." Draco's mouth practically sealed itself shut as he looked towards the living room. "Look at me, Malfoy."

Draco turned, giving him his best steel-eyed glare. He was a bit disturbed by the clear bottle-green eyes staring back at him, not filled with pity, but filled with an understanding. "The last of my bruises only faded two weeks ago. So don't start thinking I don't know what you're going through."

"Who?" Now Draco's voice was a bit softer, the ice facade fading a bit.

"My uncle. It just started this summer after school let out." Harry sighed. It was still hard to talk about this to anyone, even Sev. Rubbing his hands together, he absently noticed that they had grown.

"Five," was the hesitant, barely audible confession.

"Bastard."

"Yes. Mother's been living with this for a lot longer, though."

"Do you want her to leave him?"

Draco snorted what might have been a laugh. "It won't matter, he'll just find us."

"So you're just going to go back?"

"I'm not some bloody Gryffindor that laughs in the face of overwhelming odds," he snapped.

Harry was about to retort when Sev stalked into the kitchen, noticeably in a very bad mood. He knew logically that Sev wouldn't hit him, but it still couldn't stop the fear that shivered through him. Sinking into the chair, he tried to make himself as invisible as possible. A chorus of voices in his head shrieked that Sev's current bad mood was his fault, that no matter how much he wanted to stay, he was going to be sent back to Privet Drive...

Severus muttered to himself as he prowled around the kitchen, reaching into various cupboards, pulling out some ingredients, and putting some away. Swearing to himself that if he ever met Lucius Malfoy again, that Black wouldn't be the only one on the run from the Dementors. Turning back around, he was brought up short by the diametrically opposite boys sitting at the table. Harry looked like he was ready to run at any second, at the least provocation, while Draco had once again sunk into the role of an unemotional aristocrat.

Visibly composing himself, he rubbed his forehead in a rare display of frustration. "What was it this time?" he asked in a voice that was much older than his appearance.

Draco shrugged silently. He had wondered about that as well, and hadn't found any evidence to support any decision his mind came up with. "He doesn't really need a reason." He lightly brushed the side of his jaw with his hand as the memories crowded in. "This time, though, I was so sure he was going to kill her."

Severus nodded. "Your mother wants to see you."

Draco slowly stood, still holding his aching midsection. Once he had shuffled out of the kitchen and out of hearing range, Severus sat down beside Harry. "Harry?"

The green eyes regarded him a bit warily. "You do realize that I'm not ever going to raise my hand to you, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "It -it just sneaks up on me at times," he said apologetically.

"Understandable."

Dragging his hands through his messy hair, he sighed. "It was only three weeks. I should be getting over it by now."

"Even wizards do not understand the workings of the mind. Don't rush yourself, all right?"

"All right." Looking at the door connecting the kitchen with the living room, Harry inwardly cursed himself for forgetting his manners. "How is she?"

"She'll live." Under his breath, he added, "For now."

Draco re-entered the kitchen, his unemotional mask replaced by a serious, contemplative look. "Mother wants to speak to you, Professor," he quietly said, as though his mind were on other things besides what he was saying.

Severus sighed silently and stood. Pushing back out into the living room where Narcissa still lay on his couch, he firmly reigned in his emotions, trying to harden himself to the sight of her tears - even though it was probably in vain. And indeed, the tears were flowing silently down her cheeks, past the tender, bruised flesh that was starting to fade.

"You wanted to speak to me?"

Narcissa nodded. The dark bruises around her neck were still a shock to him, knowing that man who did it was the same one who promised to protect her. The solemn vows she and Lucius took over sixteen years ago were still engraved into his mind, even after getting drunk for the next three days to try and forget them. He took his seat across from her, allowing her the time to speak on her own.

"He was going to kill me. I could see it in his eyes, Severus." She swallowed, nearly flinching with the pain, and drew up her courage yet again. "I... I can't go back." A few more tears leaked out of her eyes as she tried to overcome the most serious blow to her pride. "Help me, please."

He had to close his eyes on the wave of relief he was feeling. She had finally done it. Opening his eyes once again, they solemnly regarded her. Extending his hand, he reminded her of the vows that they had taken as children, back before everything had gone wrong. "And I will be the one to catch you when you fall. Take my hand, 'Cia, and I swear that you will have all of the help you need."

Her pale skin made a striking contrast to his as she hesitantly slid her hand into his.

The sun had barely risen over Ottery St. Catchpole, but the house known as the Burrow was already bustling. Having all nine family members there at once, with two still running off different times, meant that everyone got up early. Molly Weasley was already making breakfast while her seven children conversed (quite loudly) in the living room. Bill and Charlie, her two most absent offspring, had seriously lucked out in getting breaks coinciding with each other's. She was worried about Harry, as was everyone, but Arthur's assurances that he was safe had kept her from nagging too much. Thoughts about Harry led her to a play on words on her previous thought, and she worried a bit about Sirius. Now that she knew that he was innocent, she felt honor-bound to worry about him too. Idly, she wondered how she could get a care package to him, since it looked as if he hadn't eaten properly in years. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, it took her a moment or two to realize that all conversation had ended in the living room. Grabbing her wand, she rushed out of the kitchen only to stop short when she realized who the man stumbling out of the fireplace was.

"Professor?" Six voices asked at once.

"And in chorus, no less," Severus muttered to himself as he brushed a few spots of soot off his black pants. He had left his robes back at Haven, in deference to the heat, but still wore long sleeves. He was just about to ask if Arthur was home, when the Weasley patriarch entered the living room.

"Ah, Snape, what brings you by?"

"Harry's party."

"What about it?"

"An unexpected guest arrived at my house last night. It's not safe for her to be on her own, so might I suggest that we move this party to my place?"

Arthur shared a look with Molly. "All right. It won't take much to move the food and presents."

Severus nodded. "Excellent. Harry is still asleep, or at least he was when I left, and I would like to get back there before he wakes." At his words, the entire family sprang into action. Molly and Arthur quickly reigned in their brood, assigning them different items to carry. Bill and Charlie would carry the larger presents, Percy the cake, Fred and George would cart the decorations, while Ron and Ginny carried the smaller presents. Molly and Arthur would carry the half-made breakfast, to continue to be cooked at Haven. Just as everyone was about to leave, the fire burned bright green and out of the flames stumbled a young witch with a head of bushy brown hair.

Greetings to Hermione sounded out from all of the Weasleys, who were lining up to get ready to go. "Am I late?" she asked a bit breathlessly.

Severus spared a slight smile. "Not at all, Miss Granger. We're simply moving the party location."

"Oh, all right." She fell into line with the rest of them.

Taking a pinch of Floo powder, Severus threw it into the fire and stepped in, saying "Haven" quite clearly. Once again, there was the sickening lurch of his stomach, and by the time he reappeared in Haven's thankfully empty living room, what little breakfast he'd had was trying to force its way back out of him. Breathing deeply, he had enough time to visibly compose himself before Hermione stumbled through.

She was looking quite green when Severus caught her by the arm to keep her from falling. "I swear, I will never get used to that."

"I hold a particular contempt for it as well. Apparation is much easier."

"But we aren't allowed to Apparate yet."

Severus smiled slightly. "Haven is protected by an anti-Apparation barrier. Now, Miss Granger, while everyone else is setting up, I have a small job for you," he continued as the Weasleys stepped out of the fireplace.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Harry isn't up yet. I need you to wake him."

He noticed the color rise on the young woman's cheeks. "All right."

"Upstairs, second to last bedroom on the left," he told her with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.