"I'm a little disappointed in your lack of findings Severus, I had something special planned for the boy." Voldemort said, his hand petting Nabini's scaly body. Snape was on one knee, head lowered in reverence.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem worthy, my lord."

The monster raised its wand. "Crucio!"

Harry woke to a quiet house. Ron's snores broke through the silence, yet something felt off. And then he remembered the sting on his scar, the vision of Snape getting crucioed into a dusty carpeted floor. His strangled scream of pain.

His heart raced wildly. Had Voldemort realised the other was helping him? Was the dream a real vision? Was it fake? He listened very closely to the silence of the house. Was the meeting still going on? What time was it? He stood up and sneaked out of the room. The house was quiet. He could see the light creeping under the dinning-room door downstairs and sighed. It was still going on. That was good. He crept down slowly skipping all the steps that creaked. By the time he was down he could hear part of the conversation.

"How do we know he isn't telling Voldemort everything?" Sirius spoke.

"Dumbledore trusts him Sirius." Mrs. Weasley insisted. Strange, it didn't sound like there were a lot of people inside.

The outside door slammed open. Harry jumped and reached for his wand, holding it defensively, moving toward the loud irregular steps. There was a crash, the sound of a body falling onto weathered wooden flooring. The kitchen door slammed open. The remaining Order members, which only included Sirius and Molly Weasley at this point, rushed out and arrived down the corridor before Harry could. Instead the boy hid in the shadows, to avoid being seen. The two didn't seem to think it was an intruder.

"Oh, Severus. Let's get you up." She said and the door to the parlour opened wide. Harry froze. Sirius and Molly both rushed Snape onto the couch. Snape didn't look conscious as his head lolled down to his chest.

"Snape. Wake up. What spells?" Sirius asked shaking Snape by the shoulders. The man didn't respond. "Useless." Sirius sneered.

"I can't give him anything unless I know what spells were used." Molly said, an edge of desperation to her voice as she opened a small box, toying with various little potion vials, unable to decide which one to try.

Harry looked at the potions master and his heart raced painfully as he stepped forward. "It was… crucio…" Both conscious adults jumped and turned his way.

"Harry!"

"I didn't watch on purpose." Harry said and Sirius came to put a comforting arm around his shoulder as Mrs. Weasley rushed to give Severus a set of different potions which she now handled with more confidence. It didn't wake him up and Harry felt a growing tightness at the top of his stomach.

"You go to bed Harry." Sirius insisted.

"But-"

"Now." Harry looked at Sirius shocked. The brief stern look Sirius had melted into sadness at having to turn him away. "Now Harry…" Harry glanced at Snape before turning and going back up. He saw them forcing other potions into the unresponsive potions master and the tightness under his chest tightened a little. Was that guilt? But why? He didn't even feel guilty after yelling at Dumbledore. He'd stayed angry at Dumbledore for a long time so why was he guilty about seeing Snape in this state?

He lay down on the bed once more but no matter how much he tossed and turned he couldn't get comfortable. He was worried. He'd never imagined to see Snape so… weakened. What if Voldemort had used another more dangerous spell too? What if Snape didn't make it?

He didn't wish the death of anyone, except maybe Voldemort, yet he'd never pictured having the uncomfortable knot he had right not. It would only release the seconds he managed to think of something else.

Steps crossed the corridor outside his door. Two sets of doors opened and closed in different parts of the house. Harry sat back up and grabbed his cloak from the foot of the bed. He sneaked back down hoping Snape was still there. Where would he start looking if he had been moved to another room? Yet when he arrived downstairs the potions master remained where he had been, with a hand covering his eyes as short, quick breaths left his lips.

"Professor?" Snape pointed his wand. Harry ducked, tripped and knocked his shin against the coffee table.

"Ow!" Instead of a spell blasted in his direction, Snape threw a different kind of curse at him.

"Blasted boy! Don't you ever think?" Snape hissed. Harry winced and poked his head out from under the invisibility cloak and rubbed his shin with a groan.

"I'm starting to believe I don't." He mumbled. He should have stayed in his room. "…I saw part of what happened." Snape's eyes narrowed. "I didn't do it on purpose…." Harry looked down. "Are you-?"

"I'm fine."

"I've felt crucio too. I know you're not fine professor." Snape simply frowned. "You didn't know? I didn't expect deatheaters would be particularly modest. Pettigrew not much of a bragger?"

"He's of low rank. I hardly ever see the…" His eyes flickered in Harry's direction. "Nevermind."

"So, how are-"

"If you know then why are you asking?"

Harry glared. "I don't know, it's what you're supposed to do when someone's hurt isn't it?" He frowned picking on a moth-eaten hole on the side of the armchair. He didn't want to look up. Eye-contact would just make this even more awkward than it already was. However even if it was uncomfortable the alternative was another sleepless night.

"You cannot go about worrying about every person in this war. You will lose your mind." He said, breaking the silence.

"I can't help it. I don't want anyone to die." Harry said.

"A pure sentiment. But the world does not work that way. You need to protect those you can and accept those cases where you can't." Harry felt his throat tightening.

"But some people… expect me to…"

"They expect too much Potter. Even the headmaster. You are fifteen years old. Someday you'll understand just how young an age that is." He said. Harry looked up at him. Snape had his hand back over his eyes as he lay on his back on the couch.

Harry propped himself up to sit on the armchair, looking at his professor who was clearly still affected by the leftover shocks of the Crucio. He tried to recall, what helped him overcome the spasmodic pain that followed Voldemort's return? He stood and went to the kitchen.

oOoOoOo oOoOoOo oOoOoOo

Severus opened his eyes at the sound of the boy leaving. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the intermittent, jolting pain. The clattering of cups woke him up and he turned to see Potter with two mugs of tea and a plate of gingerbread biscuits.

"What is it with you and sugar?" Severus mumbled sitting up and taking the tea.

"Sugar makes me feel better sometimes." Potter dunked a biscuit in the brew. Severus reached for the other mug and a biscuit. The pain was still there but the tea was a welcome distraction. To think he'd be having a mini-tea party at three in the morning with Potter of all people.

"I thought you were still in the meeting." The boy said as he scooped out a fallen section of biscuit floating at the top of his mug.

"He called mid-meeting. Dumbledore told me to come here when I finished." He said, sneering at the memory, unable to hold himself back from cringing at having to accept help from Sirius Black.

"What did he want?"

"Things you shouldn't be worrying about." He allowed himself to become amused at the way the boy scrunched up his nose in annoyance. That was Lily's thing.

"I saw he was angry at you. But why?" The boy was just full of questions wasn't he?

"He wanted to know things I pretended not to know about. A spy has to watch what he says and select what to reveal, strategically, in order to manipulate the opposing side until victory is achieved." Severus said.

"Nice, are you planning on writing a Lockhart-style book on the art of spying?" Idiot child. "Maybe you're teaching a spy-for-dunderheads class in the afternoons?" Severus refused to grin at the idiot's jokes so he opted for narrowing his eyes at the grinning teenager. Then the humour slowly drained from the boy's face. "I can't imagine having to serve him." The potions master said nothing at first.

"Hopefully you never will." Fear flickered in the boy's eyes. "This is too morbid a topic for Christmas." He had to look away from those eyes.

"Makes you wonder what kind of childhood he had to want to ruin everyone else's holidays." The boy joked, trying to make light of the situation. He knew however that the boy had something gnawing at the back of his mind. He should have told him to go to sleep. He should have told him to leave. Potter had Black to turn to while he was living in this decrepit mansion. But he didn't do what he should have done.

"What's on your mind, Potter?" He asked instead. The boy didn't look up and sipped his tea.

"When I saw Mr. Weasley… I was the snake… for a few seconds after I woke up I felt excited, happy that I pleased my master… that I pleased Voldemort." Severus flinched at the name but decided not to reprimand him and let him continue. "And every time I think of professor Dumbledore I get so angry these days. I just want to…" The boy looked up at him. "Am I going to turn like him?"

And what do you reply to that? What do you say to a child you've sworn to protect yet convinced yourself to carry on hating? How could the boy so quickly trust him with his deepest fears and worries? Deep down he knew why. Because he was the one person that knew his deepest darkest secret. He should have told Dumbledore.

"You worried about me and you don't particularly like me. I highly doubt you'll turn dark any time soon." The boy smiled faintly and shrugged his shoulders. "Talk to your godfather. He too has faced doubts about both sides."

"But… what if I ask and he thinks I'm changing already?"

"…he won't." Black would never doubt his godson in that way. No one that truly got to know the boy ever really would.