Severus Snape tossed and turned on his bed at Prince Manor. He suddenly sat up with a gasp, his dreams trickling away as he tried to recapture them, like him trying to hold them in a sieve. The only thing he could remember was Potter's eyes, Lily's eyes, pleading, unnamed terror and pain in their depths. He lay back down, but despite his greatest efforts to go back to sleep, all he could do was think about those eyes. He grumbled at the Potter brat that was now disturbing his sleep, despite being on the other side of the country. He decided to check on the boy again. He was sure that nothing was wrong. When he had gone before, he had been alright, a little thin perhaps, but that was probably from mourning that mangy mutt of a godfather. No that had just a bad dream. Still, the resolve to check on the brat settled his mind and allowed him to drift off.

Harry lay huddled on his bed, the pain from his new wounds feeling worse than the Cruciatus curse. The tears he had tried to hold back in front of Vernon came back with a vengeance. I'm not going to survive the next 'lesson' he thought desperately. He'll kill me next time. I've got to get away. He grabbed a blanket off the bed, took the pillowcase off the pillow and tiptoed down the stairs into the kitchen. He raided the fridge, grabbing anything in a container, regardless of the contents. He then let himself out of the house and ran down the street.

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Severus Snape arrived at Privet drive, for the second time in a week. He decided to wait a bit, see if Potter came out into the garden or the driveway, after all, two visits in one week would seem as though he cared. He disillusioned himself and sat on a bench nearby. He saw the whole family… but not Harry. He waited until the family had gone out, the two whales and the beanpole squashing into the car, before approaching the door. He alohamora'd the door and stepped inside.

The house was as silent as the grave. Severus started a methodical search of the house. By the time he had reached Harry's bedroom, he was puzzled. He hadn't seen any trace of Harry at all! He now saw the bare room with Hedwig's cage without the owl on the desk. This was the only sign that a wizard lived in the house at hadn't seen any pictures or belongings that indicated a fourth person in the house. Severus was disturbed; there was an atmosphere of terror and violent pain clounding the bedroom as well as the smell of blood. Severus hoped that Potter wasn't trying to alleviate the pain of his godfather's passing by engaging in self-harm. He shook his head, it wasn't his problem. Well, one thing was certain, Potter wasn't in that house. Perhaps he was staying with a friend. Yes, that would be it. He went outside and apparated back to Prince Manor.

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Harry ran along the country lanes he had reached when he had left little Whinging, until he was exhausted. He barely managed to pull himself into the ditch, out of the way of cars, before he slumped into a dreamless sleep.

He woke as the early morning sunshine shone into his sleeping place. He took out the food that he had slipped into his pillowcase the night before. As he saw inside the containers, he cursed himself. Due to the frantic mindset he had been in last night, he hadn't chosen any food that was suitable for where he was. Most of the containers were filled with meat juices, fat, margarine or other such bases. There was virtually nothing edible without a fire or a cooker. The only thing he could find to eat, was a margarine tub filled with rice. He ate half the amount, saving the rest for later. He was also angry at himself for not taking Hedwig with him. Now he had no way of contacting anybody. He started walking, in the direction of London, he hoped.

Several hours later, he was still walking. His broken arm and ribs shot spikes of pain through him adding to the aching of the new stripes on his back. He hadn't seen anyone or anything, and he still didn't know where he was going. He thought back to last night, and mentally slapped himself. How could he have left what was familiar and protected by the blood wards? Now he was in the middle of the country side without any such reassurances. He would be easy prey for any death eater that came along; he didn't even have his wand.

Evening fell early in the countryside. He continued walking even though he could hardly see the hand in front of his face; it was so dark. Suddenly, head lights cut the darkness with their intensity. He tried to look past them, to see the figure beyond, lifting his thumb in the universal hitchhikers sign.

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The man in the car was driving home from the pub. In all rights, he shouldn't be driving at all. His vision swam, the darkness not helping. He saw a shape in his headlights, his vision so blurred that he couldn't tell whether the shape was even alive, let alone what type. He also didn't know where it was, because sometimes it was on his left, other times on his right, and occasionally even in front of him. He decided to take a chance, and swerved right.

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Harry watched as the car drew nearer, not slowing down one iota. He saw it swerving to and fro, and stepped back slightly. He had obviously not stepped back far enough, and stood frozen as the car headed directly at him.

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The drunk felt the impact as his car hit the object. The thing had obviously been to the right. If he had been in a more sober state, he would have stopped to at least check that his car was alright, but in the state that he was in now, he couldn't care less. He just carried on his drive. The next morning, he would have no recollection of the incident and no evidence except a small dent in the bumper to show where he had hit a fellow human.

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Harry was caught on the side of his body by the car and spun into the ditch. He felt his side and touched warm liquid spilling out of an injured side. By the difficulty he had in breathing, he guessed that the car had also caused some damage to his lung. As tunnel vision set in, he shouted in his mind at the unfairness. He had survived Voldemort and his death eaters many times, only to be killed by a Muggle car. Unconsciously, he sent a mental plea of help to any mind listening.

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Severus was sitting in his library reading when the plea came through. A feeling of pain, and helplessness filled him. He jerked up, the book falling off his lap, as he locked his mind on the strange one, before apparating. He saw the still figure of Harry Potter. At first he felt relief that the boy had been found, but that feeling was soon replaced by one of horror as he saw the spreading pool of blood.

A/N I don't think I explain the reason for Severus receiving the message later in the story. My explaination is that the Occlumency lessons caused a weak link between the two of them. Nothing much, but enough for a message of such intense emotion to be sent and received.