Coming Of Age

Coming of Age

Chapter Eight - Flashback: The Trap

Sunday 16th September 2001

The lounge was almost in darkness, the only illumination a candle spluttering on the coffee table as it neared the end of its life. Harry lay on the settee, a pile of proof prints scattered about him. He was supposed to be sorting out a portfolio for a client, but his head was throbbing and hurt too much to concentrate. Worse, for the first time in years, his scar actually hurt. The lightning bolt shape stood out in red relief against his pale skin and it felt tender to the touch, as if it were a new injury. He wanted to call someone for help, but Ron and Hermione weren't on the phone, he had no idea where Sirius was and Emily wasn't answering her mobile. She should be home soon. He HOPED she would be home soon.

He pushed the prints onto the floor, took off his glasses, and with an audible groan buried his head into a cushion. If only he could get some sleep, maybe then everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe he would wake up and find it was all a dream. That no one from the Wizarding world had contacted him. That Voldemort and everything connected with him no longer existed. That he had his Muggle life back and he was free.

Harry wasn't sure if he had actually fallen asleep, but the next thing he was aware of was a voice saying his name and a touch on his shoulder. He jolted awake and away, a hand automatically rising protectively before him. (Later, he would be shocked to remember that the curse on his lips at that moment had been Crucio.)

A black shape, darker than the surrounding gloom, moved away. "Potter, I am unarmed."

The voice was familiar and Harry, now kneeling on the settee, whispered, "Lumos." The overhead light burst into life and he squinted against the sudden brightness; it hurt his eyes and set off the throbbing in temples again. The figure came into blurred focus. "Professor Snape?" Harry crooked, his mouth dry. Still kneeling, he scrabbled for his glasses.

The professor pointed his own wand at the light and it dimmed to a more acceptable brightness. "I apologise for alarming you."

Harry blinked, pushing the ball of his hand hard against his forehead, trying to clear his mind. "What... How did you...?" He struggled unsteadily to his feet.

Snape was at Harry's side and he reached out a hand out to the boy, making him sit back down. "I am here because your godfather asked. I found you by the location spells Miss Granger has been using to keep track of you for some time. She is something of an expert in that form of magic. People are concerned for your welfare." Snape looked at the pale face and the lack of life in the emerald eyes. "I see what they mean."

"I'm just tired." Harry pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a moment, the hand went to his forehead again, rubbing absently at his scar. His temple felt hot, sticky with perspiration. "Location spells? You've been keeping track of me?"

Snape ignored his questions and reached into a pocket in his robes, pulling out a small bag. He took several bottles from the bag and placed them on the coffee table. "I have been asked to make something to help." He crossed to a closed door and opened it. The adjoining room was the kitchen. A light flickered on and he made his way to the sink and returned with a glass of water. "When did you last eat?"

"Umm." Harry thought. "Probably this morning. How long have you been tracking me?"

"Here." Snape broke a chunk of chocolate from a bar also taken from the bag.

"I've got a migraine. That will make it worse."

"You are a wizard. It will make it better." He almost forced the chunk into Harry's mouth.

Harry let the chocolate dissolve and hated to admit that Snape might just be right. The professor was sitting opposite him now, busying himself with the bottles. He watched the older man for a few moments before closing his eyes, trying to remember what he knew about location magic.

"I have been researching the potion you were given by Malfoy," Snape didn't look at Harry as he talked. "This is not an antidote. I have been unable to find one."

"Thanks. I really needed to know that." Harry kept his eyes shut, wondering whether he would ever get his life back again. He waited for a sarcastic retort from the Potions Master. It didn't come.

"This mixture will help lessen the effect of any contact you have with the trigger. You should find it less invasive." Snape pushed the glass of water and a small vial of potion mix toward Harry. "And it will help with your sleep."

Harry opened his eyes again and looked at the vial; unsure he would ever trust a potion not made by his own hands again. "Sleeping isn't the problem. It's waking up from the nightmares." He met Snape's black eyes, a little confused by the man's amicable demeanour. "Did you need to bring this personally?"

"I wanted to make sure the potion was taken correctly." Snape leaded back against the cream chair, his black and purple robes spread about him. "It needs to be mixed shortly before taking it. You will need to take a dose tonight and a further one in the morning. That should last about a week."

Harry picked up the vial and sniffed it suspiciously. Then he swallowed it in one go. It tasted of aniseed and left a feeling of comfortable warmth down his throat and into his stomach. Snape gestured at the water and Harry took several sips. He waited, but felt no different. "It isn't working. I don't feel tired at all." He paused thoughtfully. "The headache's going thought."

"That is the chocolate." Snape's voice was tinged with annoyance. "If you had eaten, you would be fine now. The potion isn't a sleeping draft. It is not supposed to make you sleep, it helps make sleeping easier and promotes a dreamless sleep."

"And there's a difference?"

"One obviously too subtle for you to comprehend. Finish the chocolate." He pushed the bar across the table and began collecting the bottles. "I will return in the morning with the second dose. Will you still be here?"

"I'm not planning on going anywhere." Harry scrambled forward. Suddenly he didn't want to be on his own. "Umm, Professor."

"Yes?" Snape continued to pack.

Harry struggled for words. Snape was the last person he would normally want to spend quality time with. And he'd never asked the man for a favour in his life. "Will you stay for a while? I ... I could do with some company."

Snape looked up. What was that expression on Harry's tired face? Did he look scared? Well, he should be, he was lucky to still be alive. Sirius and the others didn't seem to be taking the curse as seriously as they should. If they cared for Harry at all then they would have found a safe place for him, probably under the protection of a Fidelius charm. And if Harry was as important as they all claimed, he certainly shouldn't be out here alone even with the ward spells Weasley had erected around the building. It angered Snape that it should be he who was babysitting Potter. He didn't like the boy and had never made any pretence of doing so. "Very well," he finally said. "I have some free time."

The two sat in awkward silence for some time before Snape finally came to his feet. "I will make some tea."

Harry realised he was neglecting his duties and started to stand. "I can do that." He was pushed back to the seat.

"You will remain there. I have no intention of picking you up if you collapse."

In the kitchen, Snape stood quietly, watching the second hand on the clock move slowly around the dial. He gave Potter three minutes before he would be asleep. He made a single cup of tea and sipped at it as he walked quietly back into the lounge.

Harry was still sitting, but he had toppled to one side uncomfortably and was now sound asleep. Placing his cup on the table, Snape carefully lifted the boy and laid him out on the settee. He removed his glasses and placed a cushion under his head. The sleeping figure curled up a little and settled with a sigh.

Snape watched him for a moment and returned to collecting his bottles. Then picking up his cloak, he made to leave. He got to the door before remembering the look on Harry's face as he had asked him to stay. What was it about Potter that made everyone stop what he or she was doing! He knew he couldn't leave Harry alone even though he was asleep and wouldn't be aware of him being there.

Angry at himself for letting the boy get to him, Snape returned to the settee and laid his cloak over Harry. Then with an audible sigh, he sat back down and picked up his cup.

He thought back to his conversation earlier with Sirius when the subject of the life debt Harry felt he had with Draco had come up. Was that why he was here now? Because Harry Potter had once saved his life? He'd always had misgivings about what constituted a life debt. Did the act of saving a life count? Or was it the act of sparing the life of one's enemy that formed the debt?

Whatever, Snape knew his life had changed on the day he had been dragged barely alive from Voldemort's prison.

********************

Summer 1995

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared..."

"I am," said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

"Then, good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

(Goblet of Fire)

********************

"So, you've finally decided to answer the Call."

Severus Snape looked at Lucius Malfoy and smiled. "Did you ever think I wouldn't? Or should that be did you HOPE I wouldn't?" The two watched each other for a moment before Severus spoke again. "I want to see him."

Now it was Malfoy's turn to smile. "What make you think he would want to see you?" The sneer in his voice was obvious.

"Because, Lucius, I am his Potions Master and he will need me to help stabilise his return." He held up a small bottle, which Malfoy grabbed at. It was snatched away. "No, not this time. This is one thing you will not get your hands on. I've had enough of you stealing my work in the past." The bottle disappeared. "Now, you tell him I'm here."

An hour later Severus found himself in a darkened room somewhere deep within Malfoy Manor. He stood for a moment beside the now closed door, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then, several feet away, the glow of a wand light split the blackness.

"Severus." The voice hissed like a snake. A hand moved in the wand light, beckoning him forward.

He had only taken three steps when the curse hit. It's crippling pain sent him sprawling to the flagstone floor, his body contorted with pain.

"Come to me."

The voice whispered through his pain and Severus somehow found the strength to haul himself across the rough surface, which scrapped and cut into his fingers. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, a voice told him not to be beaten - to fight the pain and cross the floor. He made the final few paces on his stomach, dragging himself by his fingertips. He collapsed, breathless, beside the carved chair.

As suddenly as the pain had begun, it was over and relief washed through him like a summer shower. He lay still for a moment, trying to gulp for air through the hurt. His chest felt like it had been crushed and each breath sent a spasm of fire through the muscles of his rib cage. Finally, he managed to come to his knees.

The hand was before his face, and he tentatively took hold of it, noting that there was blood on his own fingers. Severus kissed the fingers, the scaly texture of the skin rough on his lips.

"Master," he finally managed to croak, his throat so dry he could hardly talk.

The hand pulled free, wiping the blood from Severus' fingers on to the kneeling man's robes. "Your arm, show me."

Severus carefully raised his left arm and pulled back his sleeve to reveal his forearm. A few inches from the fold of his elbow, a shadowy smudge marred the skin. He offered his arm up and the fingers closed round it, enclosing the smudge under their long bony digits. Severus bit back a cry, as fire seemed to flare beneath the hand, branding the image of a skull with a serpent coming from its mouth onto his skin again. He didn't move, however, accepting the pain with stoic resignation.

The fingers finally pulled away and Severus looked down at his forearm. What had been a smudge was now a vivid black image against inflamed red skin.

"Clearly the previous mark was no longer effective or you would have answered my Call."

Swallowing, Severus tried to get his throat to work. "Master. To have answered would have alerted Dumbledore to my true allegiance. I need to have him believe I am no longer one of your obedient followers." He bowed his head in penitence. "I am sorry if I acted foolishly."

"You are lucky I am feeling magnanimous today. But disobey me again and I might not show such compassion."

"Thank you, Master."

"Now, tell me about Dumbledore and the boy."

********************

The Great Hall slowly cleared of students as the end-of-term feast came to a sad end. Dumbledore's words had stunned most people, including the teachers who were not part of the headmaster's inner circle. Voldemort was back. He had killed Cedric Diggery. He would cause discord between everyone.

Severus watched his students, noting different reactions. Some of the Slytherins seemed overjoyed, while those from other houses were shocked into silence or even crying. He wondered how many would come back for the new year in September.

He had caught Draco Malfoy's eye during Dumbledore's speech and the boy had grinned back. It was painful to think he wasn't even 15 yet and the Dark Lord had marked his family for 'special attention'. Did the boy know his parents had Voldemort as a houseguest?

And then there was Harry Potter who just sat looking tired and poignant. There were, no doubt, people in the hall who thought Harry had killed Diggery to win the Triwizard Tournament, but he seemed to be facing any hostility well. Harry was the only one who knew the whole truth about what had happened and Severus couldn't help but wonder if the boy knew more then he had told.

Finally there was only he and Dumbledore left in the hall. Severus got to his feet and moved to sit beside the old wizard. "Headmaster."

"Severus. I am sorry we haven't been able to met before now. How are you getting on?"

"He is back, Albus. I have seen him. Spoken to him. But he is still weak. I had thought about trying to destroy him, but Malfoy has erected all sorts of spells about him. Dark magic beyond anything I know how to breach."

"Have many seen him?"

"No," Severus shook his head. "Malfoy seems to be his eyes, ears and mouth. He passes on instructions to the Death Eaters and other followers. I have a privileged position because of my potions. So far all I have given him are harmless tonics. But..." he paused.

"But you feel you will soon need to give him something that will really help."

With a nod, Severus reached for a jug of pumpkin juice and filled a glass. "If Voldemort sees no improvement, then he will find himself someone else."

"Then do as you must. But remember to take it slowly. We need all the time you can buy us." Glancing quickly round the hall, Dumbledore pulled out a small sheet of parchment. "This is in case you are asked for information to prove yourself. You will only have one chance to read it all."

Severus put down his glass and unrolled the scroll. It was written in a hand he didn't recognise and contained odd titbits of information about the school and about people who might be of interest the Dark Lord.

"Most of the people don't exist, but we have managed to get their names into the public records." Dumbledore chuckled. "All very cloak and dagger don't you think."

Trying not to glare, Severus carefully memorised the sheet and watched as it crumbled to dust on his palm. He blew the dust away. "I am concerned about Draco Malfoy."

"Yes, he seems to think this is all very funny."

"And will be spending the summer in the same building as the Dark Lord. We both know how much his father has already taught the boy, how steeped he already is in the dark arts. I am concerned Lucius might decide to have him marked now."

"It would be unprecedented for someone so young to be given a Dark Mark."

"Things are different this time, Albus. Voldemort is writing new rules even as we sit here talking."

********************

Now

Snape looked down at his cup and realised the tea was cold. He put the cup down on the table and ran a weary hand across his forehead. It didn't do to dwell on the past. It just made a person melancholy and that wasn't an emotion he needed at the moment. But it was hard not to.

The year after Voldemort's return hadn't been an easy one for him. He had to be the loyal follower of the Dark Lord while remaining the caustic Potions Master at Hogwarts. Sometimes he wondered whether he was really a double agent, serving both sides. He had done things he wasn't proud of in that year to stay alive.

Most students returned that September 1995, but for the first time in nearly 200 years, there was no new intake of first years. The Board of Governors, lead by Lucius Malfoy decided it was not prudent given the climate of fear evident in some people. Instead the students went to European schools and to a new school set up in England. At the time no one really gave the new school much thought, but it would eventually lead to the demise of Hogwarts.

Snape got to his feet and checked on Harry. He slept deeply, the potion clearly doing its job. For once Snape was not concerned about having lied about the true nature of what he had given the boy. No doubt if Potter had known it was a sleeping draught, he would have struggled for hours to stop it taking effect. At least in this way he would awake completely rested. It would also help with his contact with Draco and a second dose would enhance its effects.

Picking up his cup, Snape continued through to the kitchen and emptied it down the sink. Outside it was dark now and he could just make out the swaying branches of the trees against the night sky.

A sudden clunk-clunk noise made him spin towards the door, wand in his hand. He quickly pocketed it again as he saw a big black cat appear through a cat-flap. Thomas stood there for a moment, watching the stranger in his domain, as if trying to decide whether he liked him or not. Then, with a flick of his big black tail, Thomas padded silently through to the lounge and jumped up onto the settee beside Harry. Snape watched as the cat sniffed at his cloak before clawing his way from one end to the other. There, he looked at Snape before stretching out by Harry's legs and starting to groom himself.

Harry remained blissfully unaware of the look of frozen anger on the Potion Master's face.

********************

September 1996

Dumbledore silently read the parchment for a second time before looking at the people currently crowded into his office. All of the Hogwarts teachers where there, along with several school governors and two people from the Ministry for Magical Education.

"I assume this has been voted on."

Lucius Malfoy, the only person besides Dumbledore to be sat down, slowly rubbed his hands together. "You must have realised this was coming, Professor. Hogwarts is no longer fulfilling its role as a school. You seem more intent on indoctrinating our children rather than teaching them."

There was a murmur of anger from the teachers, but a wave of Dumbledore's hand silenced them. "And will your new school be taking in ALL students? There is no discrimination here. A policy we have always been very proud of."

"The school has a very strict selection criteria, unlike this one. We want the best graduates in the world to come from the Slytherin School of Magical Arts."

"And that will include Muggle-born as well?"

Malfoy's lip twitched spasmodically. "All candidate students will be assessed on their abilities."

"And those not 'lucky' enough to get in? What will their education be?"

A witch from the Ministry started to answer. "We are in the middle of..." She was silenced by a wave of Malfoy's hand.

"We are in the middle of a complete review of all the educational needs of the Wizarding community. Our children should not have to attend Muggle schools before they are 11-years-old, nor should they have to be taught at home."

"Contact with the Muggle world is important, Lucius. We should not cut ourselves off from them.

Malfoy gave a snort of derision. "You may keep Hogwarts open to current students who decide they wish to stay, but there will be no new intake. Any students here will be eligible to take the entrance exams for Slytherin. I require their names by the end of this week."

Getting to his feet, Malfoy turned towards Severus. "Professor Snape will be joining Slytherin with immediate effect." There was a sudden buzz of noise from the other members of staff along with shocked expressions. Malfoy was clearly enjoying himself and he turned to the door, indicating the Ministry officials and Governors should follow him. They nearly walked into him as he stopped and made a final announcement, grey eyes glittering with triumph at Dumbledore. "Oh, I almost forgot. Your funding will be removed immediately."

********************

Severus swept down the corridor aware that everyone seemed to be looking at him. He always knew the Hogwarts' grapevine could move spectacularly fast, but this was bizarre. He had only left the Headmaster's office ten minutes before.

Pointedly ignoring the looks and whispered comments, he stared directly ahead. Let them think what they wanted. His move to the new school would allow him even greater access to Voldemort's plans. Besides, these people should be grateful. Thanks to his intelligence reports, Dumbledore had known about Malfoy's plans in advance of the ultimatum. Because of that he had managed to secure funding so Hogwarts would continue.

He turned a corner and paused. Coming towards him was Harry Potter.

The 16-year-old had matured into a lanky teenager - all arms and legs despite his lack of height. His hair was better controlled now, but the thick black locks were still often the subject of conversation amongst the female students in his classes, much as his father's had been when he was that age. In fact, Severus reminded himself it could very well be James walking towards him now, except for the piercing green eyes. They belonged to Lily.

Harry stopped a few paces before the teacher, his hands hidden in the folds of his robes. The look in his eyes seemed to be full of maturity beyond his years. "I hear you are leaving."

On another occasion Severus would have given the boy detention for the tone of his comment. "Yes, Potter. No doubt you will take great pleasure from that."

"Not necessarily. Some times things aren't always what they seem, are they."

"Oh? Have you been practicing your divination skills or are you just wildly stabbing in the dark as usual?"

Harry suddenly held out his hand. Between his thumb and forefinger was a small silver amulet shaped like a stag. "This has been charmed. If you need help - some sort of dire situation - snap it in half. Its twin will register the break." A second amulet appeared in his other hand.

Snape knew the stag was important to Harry. It represented the boy's Patronus, used against the Dementors (and not without its other uses if the caster was powerful enough). It was also the form Harry's father James took when he became an Animagus. But why use it in an amulet made for someone else? "Does Professor Dumbledore know you are doing magic outside of official classes?"

"No."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then why would you care enough to risk expulsion by creating these little trinkets?"

The slight smile on Harry's face was enigmatic. "Because we all need help occasionally. Because you have saved my life on more than one occasion."

The teacher's eyebrow rose quizzically. "And will it work?"

Harry shrugged. "There's no way of checking it until it is used. It's a one-use only amulet and I might have gotten the charm and potion wrong. You know what I'm like at potions."

"And how will you find me should this hypothetical dire situation occur?"

"Location magic. It's all there." Harry pocketed the second amulet.

"Most people believe I am a Death Eater." Severus paused for a second then pulled up the sleeve of his robe, showing the boy the mark on his forearm.

"Professor Dumbledore trusts you and I trust him." Harry pressed the silver amulet into Severus' outstretched hand. "Good luck." He stepped round the teacher and carried on down the corridor.

Severus watched him disappear and looked down at the charm. He sighed deeply. "Oh James, what have you created? If we're not careful; if he ever turned his powers to the dark, he could become even worse than Voldemort."

********************

October 1996

"Professor."

Severus turned from the blackboard where he was writing instruction for his first lesson and watched as Draco Malfoy strode across the empty classroom. The boy dropped his book bag onto a desk and continued to the front of the class.

"Welcome to Slytherin." He thrust a hand out, which Severus shook.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy."

Draco hitched himself onto a desk. "Father says great things will come from this school."

"No doubt. As long as you and your fellow students are willing to work." Severus hefted the piece of chalk. "Potions will be very different from what you learned at Hogwarts. You will be given the chance to experiment with dark arts work if your grades from the first term are sufficient."

The boy's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Excellent."

Even though Draco didn't make the gesture, Severus could almost feel him mentally punching the air with delight. "Dark arts potions are not to be taken lightly, Mr Malfoy. They are very dangerous and the consequences of their misuse will not only affect the person they are used on, but the caster as well."

What am I doing here?

Severus questioned himself yet again. What am I doing teaching these children such terrible things? He had considered using false potions, but there were too many people at Slytherin with the knowledge to know he was lying. As for Draco, the boy probably knew as much about dark arts potions as he did. No, he had to teach the real think if his cover wasn't to be compromised.

It didn't help that Severus knew what Voldemort was planning for graduates from Slytherin. They would be the next generation of Death Eaters and dark wizards, conditioned into dark ways and narrow-minded intolerance. No non-pureblood would ever set foot in this school even if they were the most exceptional student in the world.

He looked at Draco and the eager anticipation on the boy's face. Draco was one of those exceptional students, especially when it came to potion making. He had the ability to concentrate and not to be distracted from his task. Distraction was where most students failed. Timing, order, movement. All so important when preparing a potion, but how many students missed the timing, forgot the order or never worked out how to stir a mixture. Draco had a single-minded focus when involved in potions and that was why he was so good at it.

Why hadn't the boy remained at Hogwarts? There he would have been directed along a much safer path than the one laid out by the Dark Lord. Here, his only path would end in darkness, pledged to serve Voldemort, branded forever as Severus had been. Severus knew how lucky he was that Dumbledore found him and brought him back into the light. If that hadn't have happened he shuddered to think where he might be now.

He wondered whether to tell Draco the truth. If he could get him to understand what was really happening rather than the lies and half-truths Lucius would tell him, then there might be some hope. But he knew he couldn't risk his cover. Too many people were relying on him.

********************

Now

If only he had spoken to Draco that day five years ago, maybe none of this with Harry would be happening.

Snape rubbed at his eyes, tiredness creeping up. He felt a little light-headed and almost instinctively he reached for the remains of the chocolate bar.

If Voldemort wanted to get rid of Harry, why hadn't he just killed Draco the moment the Speculumous mirroring curse been activated? It would have been so easy for him to destroy both boys in that way. Why keep them alive? There had to be another reason besides Voldemort desire to torture them, which came as no surprise to Snape. Voldemort liked nothing better than to see a person suffer. Surely the Dark Lord must realise the longer he allowed them to live, the more chance that both would slip from his grasp. According to ancient records, the caster needed the trigger physically close to use the curse. If Harry's plan worked and Draco did escape, it would buy them all some time.

Time for what? Time to look for a cure when there was none? Time to try and undo Voldemort's poison, which was slowly killing not only him, but also the two boys. And how had the Dark Lord managed to give Harry the potions anyway? He must have been following Harry for some time in order for Narcissa to successfully give Harry the potion. So much for Sirius Black and his little taskforce, they had slipped up there.

As for Narcissa Malfoy. The bitch! Snape's fist clenched tight enough for his nails to cut into his palm. How could he have fallen for her lies?

********************

September 1997

He almost didn't hear the soft tapping on the door to his rooms. When it came again he stared wide-eyed at the damning evidence of his duplicity spread across the desk. Ciphers, messages from Dumbledore and his own reports littered the surface.

A third knock. Severus swept the lot into a desk drawer and straightening his robes, he set an expression of innocence on his face before crossing to the door.

"Severus, quick, let me in."

"Narcissa." He ushered the woman in, scanning the empty corridor before closing the door. "What are you doing here?"

She fell into his arms, tears suddenly streaming down her face, as the man wrapped her in an embrace. "Severus, he knows. He knows about us."

He pushed her away slightly so he could look at her face, seeing the livid red mark for the first time. She tried to cover it with her hair. "What do you mean?" His hand tenderly cupped the mark, her tears damping his palm. "Did he do this?"

A nod. "He accused me of having an affair with you." Her fingers twisted in Severus' robes. "I thought he was going to kill me. He is just so angry. I've never seen him like this."

"Shh, I won't let him hurt you again." Severus pulled her back into his arms. He had begun a relationship with Lucius' wife six months before. It had begun as a cold calculated way of finding out more about Lucius who was clearly Voldemort's favourite, but now it had become so much more. Narcissa had been a student with him at Hogwarts and he had always had a soft spot for her back then. Now 25 years on, it had been so easy to fall into those same roles, first as a friend and then as a lover. "Come on, sit down."

Narcissa allowed herself to be drawn to a chair and she collapsed back into it, tears streamed down her face. Severus found a handkerchief and knelt before her, carefully wiping the tears away. Looking calmer than he felt, he debated what he should do. He didn't believe he actually loved Narcissa. In fact he didn't believe he had ever loved anyone. But she meant so much to him back at Hogwarts; despite the fact she had left him for Lucius.

He hadn't meant to fall for her again, but she had made his days at Slytherin bearable, and, more recently, the nights worth living for. Could he endanger his cover just because he felt something for this woman? Could he let her go back to Lucius to be beaten again? He was, after all, the instigator of the affair and just as responsible as she was.

"What do you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. What choice do I have? I don't know what I want anymore. He twists everything ... makes me feel useless ... stupid."

"You aren't any of those things."

She took the offered handkerchief, wringing it in her hands. "He's changed so much. I want him to be the person he used to be, but he scares me now."

Finally he said. "Narcissa, you don't have to go back. I can get you out of here - away from Lucius. I have friends who will take care of you."

She reached out and touched his face. "No, I have put you in enough danger already. I've dealt with Lucius in the past and I can do it again now. And your friends - I can't involve them in my problems."

"They would understand."

"And if I leave, I dread to think what might happen to Draco."

"Then take the boy with you. Get him away from Lucius before it's too late." Severus held tightly onto her arms. "You know Lucius will have him marked with 'his' brand. Voldemort wants Draco. Get the boy out and he might just get through this." Severus knew he had said too much already, but it was too late now.

"Severus, I don't understand. Are you saying ... saying you don't ... following the Dark Lord?" Her voice had become a frightened whisper and she clutched at him.

"There are hundreds and hundreds who don't follow him, Narcissa. Hundreds who would fight to get rid of him once and for all. Please, let me get you away from Lucius."

For what seemed like forever, Narcissa stared into his eyes and then finally she fell into his arms. "Oh yes, please, Severus. Get me out of here."

For some time the two didn't move, then finally Severus disentangled himself. "I want you to wait here."

"No, don't leave me. Where are you going?"

"I won't be long."

"Please, don't leave me."

"I'm going to get Draco and then I will get you both away from him. Just wait here and lock the door. Don't let anyone else in." He brushed her hair from her face and came to his feet. "Just don't leave."

When Severus returned ten minutes later, he had Draco with him. The door opened at Severus' command and the two walked in.

Facing them across the room were Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. And Severus quickly realised, at least six other people, all of whom he recognised as Death Eaters.

Lucius looked at his son, registering the surprise on the boy's face. "Go away, Draco."

"But father..."

"I said LEAVE!" His voice rose louder with each word. With an expression of fear, Draco looked at his mother and then Severus before turning on his heel and fleeing the room. Someone slammed the door closed.

Severus said nothing. The look on Narcissa's face was completely different. Gone was the soft loving expression he had come to care for and in its place was a cold calculated air. There was a slight upturn to the corners of her mouth as though she was pleased with something. And the livid mark? That was gone and he wondered if it had ever been real.

"Well, Severus. I think it is time we had a talk."

"I don't answer to you, Lucius. If I am to talk to anyone it will be to our Master."

"Oh, he will talk to you soon enough, believe me." Lucius reached out a hand and very deliberately, Narcissa began to hand him pieces of parchment. Severus recognised them as the items he had earlier hidden in the draw. "What's this then? Ah, a letter from Dumbledore. How nice. And this? Why, it looks like a cipher. And this? A reply in your handwriting, Severus." A cruel sneer slowly grew on Lucius' face. "How long have you been betraying us? Since the beginning? Since you came to the school? And what about your potions, Severus? Have you been poisoning our Master?"

Severus did not reply. His eyes slowly went from Lucius to his wife and he realised that his plans had backfired. She had been the cold and calculated one. She had played him for a fool. He looked at her, a question in his eyes. Why?

Narcissa didn't smile back, but there was a look of triumph in her eyes. "Did you really think I would betray him?" she finally said as her hands wrapped around Lucius' arm. "Do you think I would leave Lucius for you?" The question was spoken with disdain. "You still have nothing to offer me Severus, just as you didn't at Hogwarts."

"Get him out of here." Lucius gestured dismissively at Snape.

Severus offered no resistance, as he was lead from the room. His last sight was that of Narcissa, the woman he had given himself to body and soul, kissing the man he loathed.

********************

October 1997

Severus didn't speak again. Oh, he cried in pain. Moaned in agony. Screamed out his terror. But he never spoke a word to his torturers. Didn't utter anything to his guards.

It was the only way he could cope with what they did. The curses. The brutalisation. The physical and mental torture.

They questioned him non-stop until he lost track of time ... of the days ... of the sunrises and sunsets. They asked him the same things over and over. Even if he had wanted to speak, most of the questions he couldn't have answered anyway. Lucius Malfoy revelled in making things deliberately obtuse so they were impossible to answer. Sometimes Narcissa would be there, watching his pain, her face in rapt concentration as she followed each blow.

They wanted to know what protection spells where being used on Hogwarts and other 'light' magic locations. Wanted to know about Dumbledore, Potter and the other 'light' soldiers. Wanted to know what had been promised to the giants to make them change sides.

Again and again.

He crouched in the corner of his filthy cell, his tattered robes equally filthy with his blood and mess. He longed for the luxury of a wash - not a bath or a shower, but simply a bucket of cold water. Something to make him feel human again.

Instead he coughed, fearing he was sickening, and hoping any illness would kill him quickly.

They didn't always treat him badly. Twice they had taken him away, cleaned his wounds, washed him in scented water and dressed him in fine robes. They had fed him and just as he had started to feel like a person again, everything was wrenched away and he was thrown back into this filthy hole and into despair.

They had taken him to Voldemort, once in his rags and once in his clean clothes. Those were the worse times. Voldemort used the mark on his arm to inflict pain he had never imagined possible.

And then there was the curse.

********************

Severus thought the room was the same one he had been taken to meet the Dark Lord two years before, but he wasn't sure. That room had been in Malfoy Manor and he was sure he was still at the Slytherin School. Had they moved him and he didn't realise?

The room was in total darkness. The fine clothes they had dressed him in offered little resistance against the cold, and he trembled uncontrollably as it seeped almost immediately into his bones. He tried not to cough, but his chest hurt from the damp in the cell and he thought he might have pneumonia. A flare of light made him squint and he held up a hand to shield his eyes. It was the soft glow of a wand and there in the circle of light was the scaled hand of Voldemort.

"Come closer." The hand gestured.

After a moment's hesitation, Severus stepped forward, but he felt as if his legs had been kicked out from under him. It happened so quickly, that he didn't have chance to put out his hand to protect himself. He slammed to the floor, the breath knocked painfully out of his body.

"You dare to approach me on your feet?" The cold voice hissed. "Crawl."

Severus debated whether to resist, but decided this was not the time for a show of bravado. He crawled towards the light, trying to make out the outline of Voldemort in the darkness. There seemed to be nothing but the hand, the darkness was so complete around him. Stopping just out of the circle of light, Severus sat back on his heels.

The hand was held out to him, but this time Severus refused to take it, refused to raise it to his lips. And Voldemort's punishment for his transgression felt like he was being consumed by fire. When it ended, he was a sobbing wreak, curled in a tight ball at the Dark Lord's feet.

"See what happened when you disobey me, Severus." Voldemort made the man whimper. "But see what happens when you obey."

It felt like someone had wrapped a warm blanket around him and the blanket had sucked all the pain from his body. It took away the fire and the hurt, which numbed him through to the core of his being, and for a moment he felt like a human being again. Safe. Warm. Beloved. Then, as quickly as he had been given this gift, it was snatched away. He choked back a sob.

The scaled hand reached down and in a strangely tender gesture, Severus felt his head being stroked. He froze.

"Why did you turn from me?" The cold voice was tinged with regret. "Have I not given you gifts beyond anyone else?" The hand grabbed at his hair, yanking Severus' head up painfully. He tried to find a balance, to stop his hair taking the whole weight of his body, but Voldemort twisted and pulled him upwards and his hands found nothing. "Is this how you repay me?" There was no response. "I was told you refused to talk. We will see."

Voldemort released his hold, dumping the man back to the floor. "I have decided to give you a change to redeem yourself. To return to me and to live. You do want to live, don't you Severus?"

Severus dropped prostrate on the floor, trying to move himself out of reach of the foot he could now make out in the darkness.

"You were my Potions Master before. Such a talented mixer of dreams and terror. I want you to mix those things again for me. You had such skill. You managed to interpret things that others missed." Voldemort threw a book. It caught Severus on the side of the head and clattered to the floor.

Recognising it straight away, Severus shuffled back, away from it. He knew it was his own notebook, full of his neat writing listing in minute detail many of the things he had made for the Dark Lord when he had been a Death Eater.

"But you used cryptic words in your notes didn't you and my new Potions Master doesn't understand them. If you transcribe one of your potions, I will release you. You can rejoin us if you wish or go back to your simpering do-gooders. The choice will be yours." Severus didn't move. "We will find the answer without you, it is just a matter of time." The book flew open, pages turning by themselves until, eventually stopping about halfway through. The word across the top of the page read Speculumous. "Do you remember finding this for me, Severus? How excited you were when you realised what could be achieved with it. Do you remember the care you put into formulating that potion? How you insisted on giving it to that first target yourself?"

Severus realised his shivering was no longer from the cold. He had done some terrible things while he was a Death Eater, but this came way up there towards the top of his list. How could he have ever brought back to life a potion capable of such horrors? Why hadn't he left it in the musty collection of papers he'd stolen from Hogwarts when he had pledged himself to Voldemort? How many people had it been used upon in those years?

"It was a wonderful tool, Severus, and I need it again. Teach my Potions Master it's secret and you can go."

Severus shook his head.

"Is it so much to ask you? Your insignificant life for this insignificant potion? We are almost there, but your notes are so very clever. Did you do that deliberately so others could not steal your work?" The wand shifted, pointing to another spot in the room. A second circle of light, its source unknown, appeared. In its centre lay a child, probably 11 or 12 and Severus realised it was a student from Slytherin. "We are ready to test what we have so far, but because you won't help the blood of this child will be on your hands if it fails."

Severus watched in horror as the child was given a potion. He was still in that state of shock when the second part of the curse was flung at him. He felt like his body had been ripped apart and put back together. Amidst the shock, his mind found space to think. Was this what it had been like for all the triggers? If only he had known.

The wand pointed at him again, and he heard the word Crucio. The curse cut into him and he struggled to work through the pain. It felt like slivers of glass were driving into his eyes, but he managed to focus through it onto the child who did not move.

The mirroring curse had failed. They had gotten it wrong. And Voldemort exploded, enraged with anger as Severus remained silent despite the waves of agony thrown at him.

********************

That had been yesterday and his silence had earned him yet another beating, this one carried out with particular maliciousness by Lucius Malfoy. Ripped and torn flesh still oozed blood if he moved and he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to see out of his left eye again. It was closed tightly shut and sharp daggers of white pain would arch from it occasionally.

He reached for the small container of water at his side and took a tiny sip. The water might have to last him hours or days depending on what his captors decided. He held the water in his mouth for a moment, letting it wash over his teeth and tongue before slowly swallowing the precious liquid.

Putting the container down beside his foot, he sneaked a hand surreptitiously to his ankle. He had to be careful because he never knew if he was being watched. Resting against the bony protuberance of his ankle joint, he could feel a thin chain made invisible by his own dark magic incantations. On the chain was the silver stag Harry Potter had given him. The amulet had become very important to him. It had become a reminder of what he was fighting for - a link with that previous life. He had contemplated snapping it many times since Narcissa had betrayed him, but each time the thought had been dismissed. To snap the amulet would tell Potter he was in trouble and he knew the boy would respond. Would try to rescue him. Severus knew he couldn't risk that; if Potter came here, Voldemort would kill him.

Severus' fingers followed the chain and eventually reached the stag.

He went cold. Instead of the familiar complete form of the amulet, he now traced two halves of the stag, hanging innocently from the chain. Something must have happened during that last beating. He could feel the raised wheal from one of the blows of Lucius Malfoy's cane, which ran from his foot and up to the middle of his calf. The blow must have split the amulet.

Severus slid to the floor, a cry catching in his throat as he realised it was too late. Despite all his attempts, he had just handed Harry Potter to his greatest enemy.

********************

Now

And that, Snape realised was why he was sat in the darkened lounge of this lighthouse watching over a sleeping boy. He had given Voldemort the Speculumous curse currently flowing through Harry Potter's body, and which Snape knew still polluted his own. The curse might not have worked when Voldemort had tested it on the Potions Master, but Snape knew it was still there, poisoning his cells and slowly destroying him bit by tiny bit.

He didn't remember the rescue.

By the time Harry, Ron, Fred and George had reached his cell, he had been delirious with fever from the infections of his wounds. He vaguely remembered they had dressed him and used spells to stop his bleeding. He thought they had carried him out, but everything had been a blur and no one had ever discussed it when they had reached the safety of Hogwarts. He did remember that Harry had left the group at one point and later Dumbledore told Snape about the crystal cave the boy had found where they planned to lure Voldemort and trap him for all time.

So did what happened constitute a life debt? The four boys had saved his life; there was no doubt about that. He would have been dead within days if they had not risked their lives.

As for the Speculumous potion, what would Sirius, Harry and the others think if he told them his part in its history? How he had plucked it out of obscurity, reinventing it and given it to Voldemort. No doubt, his own notes had been exploited to produce the potion used on Harry and Draco. That was why he knew so much about the curse. It was why he knew the potion would slowly poison the victim over the course of years. He knew because he had been trying to cure himself since that day four years ago.

How could he tell Harry this? At least he knew he'd lived a good, if sometimes painful and, occasionally evil, life. Harry was only 21 years old. He had hardly begun to live and Snape had given him a life sentence.

********************

The silver Ford Fiesta crunched noisily up the gravel driveway and Emily was pleased to see Harry's green sports car parked in front of the lighthouse. Her two days at the health spa had left her feeling relaxed and happy despite the terrible traffic on the journey home. But now all she wanted to do now was curl up with Harry in those expressive arms of his and lose herself in him.

She grabbed her bags from the car and let herself into the building. It was quiet and she frowned. No music? Surely he hadn't gone to bed already. She glanced at her watch; it was 9:12pm and Harry never got to bed much before 11. Unless, of course, he was unwell.

Leaving the bags by the front door, Emily went into the lounge. Her first impression was that something was wrong with the light - it was normally much brighter then this. Perhaps, she decided, the bulb was going. She fiddled with the light switch, turning it on and off a couple of times. It remained dim, barely breaking the darkness.

She was just about to turn on a table lamp when someone cleared his throat.

It was not Harry.

At the same time, the overhead light seemed to become brighter, enough for her to make out that there was a person, back to her, sat on a chair. The figure rose and turned to face her. Emily opened her mouth to scream.

"Please, Miss Shaw, Don't scream." The voice was a whisper. "You might wake him up."

The scream came out as a squeak and Emily realised she was brandishing the lamp in front of her. The man seemed taller than she remembered, or perhaps it was the way he was dressed. "Professor Snape?" She started to lower the lamp, but then had second thoughts and raised it again. "What on earth are you doing here? Where's Harry?"

"He is asleep." He indicated the settee where she could now make out a second person. As if on cue, Harry muttered something unintelligible and turned over, his back now to them, tangling himself further in the cloak.

Thomas tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. The cat looked startled for a moment (then again, Thomas always seemed to have a startled expression on his face), and proceeded to clean himself briefly, giving the impression he had deliberately fallen to the floor. Then, as if seeing Emily for the first time, he sashayed across the room and began purring around her feed.

Emily debated whether to go to Harry, but Snape stood between them and at that moment she didn't want to go any closer to the stranger than she was now.

The table lamp was slowly returned to its original place. "What are you doing here?" She remembered the brief interaction she had with Snape during his previous visit. Back then he had been dressed in at least fairly normal clothes, but now he was wearing a long deep purple robe which buttoned up to a standing collar. Over it was a floor-length black garment, open down the front. It's long sleeves reached to the tips of his fingers and she could only see his hands if he pulled the sleeves back. He looked like a priest or a Victorian schoolteacher. "I think you should leave." He didn't move. "I could call the police."

"And tell them what? When Potter wakes up, he will vouch for my presence here."

"Potter?" Emily frowned at him. "Look, who are you and what do you want? Just how do you know Harry?"

"I am Severus Snape. I was Mr Potter ... Harry's teacher."

"At school?"

Snape folded his arms across his chest. "Where else would I teach?"

Emily mirrored his posture. "Stonewall High?"

"I am not familiar with that establishment."

"Really? I was under the impression that was where Harry went to school. So what school did you teach at?" Snape did not respond. She looked fiercely at him. "Okay, then what did you teach him?"

He thought for a moment. "Chemistry."

"Chemistry? Was he any good?"

"Not really. He never had the patience for it."

"Oh? Then what was he good at?"

"You will have to ask his other teachers that question."

Emily realised Snape had walked around the chair towards her, black robes brushing the ground. She swallowed nervously. "Harry doesn't talk about his past much." She was surprised at the comment because it was true and she had never realised it before. She was forever going on about her family, her school, her old friends and Harry would listen. But apart from the odd comment about the Dursleys, he never talked about his childhood. The guest list for his birthday party had included no one from before he was 18 with the exception of the Dursleys, and they were equally as tight-lipped about Harry's childhood. Even the biography in his book said nothing about his past, just that he was a self-taught photographer.

A slight smile crept across the man's face. "Not surprising, considering our Mr Potter's history."

"What are you talking about?"

The smile grew. "Hasn't he told you who he is?" Snape closed his eyes, savouring the moment. He knew he shouldn't talk to a Muggle about Wizarding things, but this was just too good an opportunity to miss - a chance to finally get back at Potter. Oh, how delicious.

He chided himself, remembering he was an adult who shouldn't give into petty vindictiveness. He should approach any discussion about Harry Potter with a completely open mind and not transmit his dislike for the boy into the conversation. But, then again, payback could be fun whatever the age. He wanted to rub his hands in glee, but did manage to keep his calm exterior intact. And besides, this woman had a right to know what was going on and if Potter wouldn't tell her then someone else should.

"Let me show you something." He beckoned her with a finger and walked to the alcove housing Harry's picture gallery.

After a moment's hesitation, Emily followed. She turned on the small overhead spots, which illuminated the individual prints.

"I take it this is all Harry's work." Emily nodded, wondering what the point of this was. Snape pointed at the print of a sleeping woman. "Do you know who this is?"

Emily shrugged. "No, but I've always liked it. Now I suppose you are going to tell me she is someone from this mysterious school you teach chemistry at."

"Yes. Her name is Hermione Granger. I would like you to watch the photograph for a moment."

"What?" The man was mad.

"Just study it. I will make some tea."

She watched as he headed for the kitchen. Clearly he knew his way around. "Yeah, go on. Make yourself at home," she tutted irritably.

With him out of the way, Emily quickly went to Harry. She crouched beside the settee and pushed his tussled hair back from his face. "Harry." The word was a whisper.

"He won't wake up just yet." Snape's voice came from the kitchen. "You must have noticed he hasn't been sleeping well." The man was right, Emily thought. Since his birthday, Harry would often not there beside her if she woke during the night. "I have given him ... a herbal sleeping infusion. He should wake refreshed in the morning."

"Is it safe? This infusion."

"Of course it is. I occasionally use it myself."

"That's hardly a recommendation," she muttered.

"You should try it. It might make your mood more agreeable. Now you are supposed to be studying the photograph."

Emily mouthed a few choice words, but there was something in the man's voice that made her follow his instructions. She envisaged scores of scared children taking chemistry from this monster, quaking over their test tubes as he vilified them in front of their classmates. Getting to her feet, she bent down and kissed Harry on the mouth. For a moment she thought he responded, but the sensation passed. Straightening, Emily turned her attention back to the photograph.

Photo-Hermione's eyes were open.

Emily sucked in a lung full of shocked air, her hand going to her mouth. She blinked and found the photograph had reverted to its former state - that of a 15-year-old girl sleeping peacefully, whatever she was dreaming of causing a tiny smile on her face.

Slowly, her eyes now fixed on the image, Emily returned to the alcove. She touched the glass covering the print. It had to be a trick of the light. Then the eyelids flickered open again and brown eyes, so similar to her own, winked at her.

Emily staggered back, straight into Snape's arms. He steadied her. "It looked straight at me. How did you do that?"

"I did nothing." He led her unresisting through to the kitchen and sat her down.

"But it moved. Ron's always said it did that."

"Ron?"

"Harry's publisher."

"Hmm. Interesting." He poured the tea and passed her a cup.

Emily looked down at the perfectly made cup of tea. "It moved," she repeated.

There was a long silent pause before Snape responded. "Magic."

The pause that followed was even longer and at the end of it Emily gave a single 'ha'. "What? You mean like Paul Danials and that American guy David Copperfield? Slight of hand and illusion? Pulling rabbits out of hats and making the Statue of Liberty disappear?" She started to giggle, until she saw the look on Snape's face. He looked deadly serious.

"I mean no such thing. I am talking about real magic, not tricks." He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand.

Emily looked sceptically at him, desperately trying to keep a straight face. "A wand? For heaven's sake, I don't believe it. Shouldn't it be black with little white bits on each end? Are you going to start waving it around shouting 'Izzy wizzy, let's get busy'? This is just too much."

"No, more like Rosa Flosculus." Snape brought the wand down in an arch of silver and green stars. Rose petals started floating down from somewhere near the ceiling, slowly covering the table in a perfumed layer.

She stopped laughing for a moment, lips pursed. "Now, that is impressive, but I've seen better. Do you do card tricks as well."

"If you don't wish to listen then I cannot make you, but that would be your loss, not mine." He looked at her through narrowed eyes as she absently picked up a couple of petals. Personally, he didn't care if she thought he was an illusionist, but now he had begun telling her the truth, he did want her to appreciate the seriousness of the situation. He hefted the wand for a moment thoughtfully, then took hold of the tip and held out the hilt towards her. "Here."

"You want me to play with your wand? I bet you use that line with all the girls." Snape said nothing, his face completely impassive. "Okay, why not." Emily's fingers closed round the hilt.

Snape had intended using the wand to direct his power back down towards her so that she could understand what real magic felt like. He stopped. He didn't need to use the wand as a transfer. Emily might not be a witch, but the potential was within her, and it sparked the wand into life. He could feel its charge transferring back to him. He let go.

"Wow." Emily's eyes opened wide as she felt the energy rise like static electricity through her body. Snape saw it as a blue/gold haze in her aura. "What is this?" She dropped the wand and it clattered to the table.

"That was real magical energy. In some people it is a vital force. In others it is a latent energy. Some non-magical people can also experience it. Clearly you are tuned into that power. Perhaps that is why you are drawn to Potter."

"Okay, enough already. Are you trying to tell me Harry is a magician?"

"He is a wizard."

"And there is a difference?"

"I like to believe a magician is a Muggle..."

"Muggle?"

"What those in the Wizarding world call a non-magical person. What you might refer to as a 'normal' person. A magician is a Muggle who has learned tricks and, as you have said, slight of hand. A wizard or witch is born with their ability. In them it is real, as real as breathing is to you. Harry was born a wizard. His father, James, was a wizard. His mother, Lily, was a witch."

"His aunt told me they did in a car crash."

"They didn't. They were killed by a very powerful wizard."

"This is beginning to sound like some sort of fairy story. Something out of Lord of the Ring."

"Believe what you will."

And he proceeded to tell her the whole story.

About Voldemort and what he had done to the Wizarding world when Snape was a child.

Of Lily and James and their son who survived Voldemort's curse and sent the Dark Lord into oblivion.

He told her what he knew of Harry's childhood with his aunt and uncle, and of his years at Hogwarts.

She learned about the girl in the picture and Harry's best friend Ron and how they had helped him fight Voldemort when he had returned.

He explained how things had changed when Hogwarts split and how the war was now spilling into the Muggle world.

He didn't tell her what his own role had been, but he explained how Harry had left when he was 18 and why people through he had gone.

He did tell her what his wizarding friends thought had happened to Harry on his 21st birthday and the danger he was now in. And he tried to explain why The Boy Who Lived was so important to the Wizarding community.

While Snape talked, Emily listened, hardly making any comments. She provided tea and water, made supper, poured wine and, occasionally, remembered to check on Harry. It was gone two in the morning when he finally sat back, finished.

Snape waited for Emily to comment, but instead she sat with a glass of wine in one hand while the other swept rose petals into little heaps, occasionally the odd petal would still flutter down to join those on the table. Finally, she drained the glass. "So, my Harry is some sort of important wizard."

"Yes."

"Who decided he didn't want to be a famous wizard anymore."

"Yes."

"But you people want him back."

"No. We want him safe."

"Yeah, right. This Voldemort person wants him dead."

"We believe that is the case."

"And Harry's been cursed."

"Yes."

"Severus. What sort of name is that?"

He was taken aback by the sudden change in conversation. "You will have to ask my parents."

"Umm. It's Latin you know. It means strict, severe, terrible."

"As Potter often took great delight in reminding me."

"You know, this is the 21st century. People don't get cursed any more."

"I am not trying to convince you. You are intelligent for a Muggle and open-minded enough to reach your own conclusions."

"I always thought witchcraft was New Age nonsense. People dancing naked in the woods round fires, scented candles, crystals and self-help books. That sort of thing."

Snape smiled. "I have danced naked, but never outside and never round a fire. In fact, it had nothing to do with witchcraft or wizardry."

Emily smiled back and filled his glass. "So, are you a member of Harry's fan club?"

"Certainly not. Potter spent his entire time at Hogwarts disobeying rules and causing problems. If it weren't for the fact of who he was, he would have been expelled in his first year. I'm surprised other students liked him so much considering what he was allowed to get away with."

"It's not his fault." Emily's voice was quiet.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know, Professor, Harry is a lovely person. His 'Muggle friends' as you call them, don't know anything about magic, the Boy Who Lived or this Voldemort person. We just know him as Harry, a kind and generous soul who's always there for the people who care for him. If you could just looked past this 'famous' tag your kind have given him, you'd see the real person. He didn't ask for this did he? Didn't ask for people to put him on that pedestal. Stop making him have to prove himself all the time and let him be an ordinary person."

"But he isn't ordinary. If you still think that, then you haven't listened to a word I have said."

"No, it's you who is missing the point. He is ordinary, but with the extraordinary ability to care for people whether by using your magic or by being a find person. Give him a chance for once. Harry didn't ask for his parents to be killed did he? From what you've told me, he had never used his name to gain anything. He didn't know he was famous before going to this Hogwarts place. It's not his fault others want to use him."

Snape looked at her for a moment, knowing what she said was true. Harry had never asked for anything. He was like his father in that and he would go out of his way to help people. And that was what angered him most. Harry had never demanded recognition for anything he did. Not even for saving his hated Potions Master's life, which brought him right back to the life debt. Harry had never talked about rescuing him from Voldemort, even after the way Snape had treated him at school. He never expected any thanks for what he had done.

"Do you believe me?" he finally said.

Emily sighed. "The petals came from somewhere. But magic? I'm not sure."

He came to his feet. "Very well. Have it your way." He disappeared into the lounge for several minutes and when he returned, he placed a small bottle on the table. "Considering the lateness of the hour, I think I can safely leave this for Harry. Please make sure he takes it. Don't wake him; he needs as much rest as possible. As for my cloak..." He glanced back at the settee where the twin pinpoints of Thomas' eyes stared at him from the darkness. "You cat seems to have taken a liking to it."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I have a busy day tomorrow." He glanced at the clock. It was gone three in the morning. "Or rather later today."

"How?" She sat back, holding his gaze, a slight smug smile on her face. "By broomstick?"

"No, not this time." He found his wand from under the rose petals. "I'll apparate."

And he vanished.

Emily almost fell off her chair.

She remained in the kitchen for a long time, watching the empty spot where the wizard had stood.

--------------------