I dont own any of the Harry Potter characters

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I Say I Thought You Would Be Home

You Said You Never Would Be Gone

Every Time I See The Light Not Burning In The Porch

I Say I Thought You Would Be Home

You Said You Never Would Be Gone

Gone - Daughtry

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Sirius glared at the back of Snape's head, watching the Dark wizards lips move and the wand move in complex patterns that he could not follow. He felt an annoying twinge of admiration at how focused Snape remained as he broke down the wards that Sirius could not even begin to decipher. But, he reminded himself, Snape had been a Death Eater himself, and was probably fully aware of the protections and wards placed on their houses. Feeling slightly better for this piece of information, Sirius settled against a nearby tree, agitation leading his hand to trace the bump in his arm, which burnt constantly as he sat, telling him how close he was to her, slowly burning hotter as an hour passed... then another... he bit back a stream of obscenities, biting his lip and closing his eyes tight against the sensation, refusing to voice any pain that would heighten the smug smirk on Snape's face.

The sun had set by the time Severus stood up. With a quick look at the sky, Sirius noted that he had less than eighteen hours to find Hermione. He refused to allow himself any false hope that he would find her long before the day was out. He had no idea whether the spell had even worked. It had been made by a slytherin, after all, and it would be a usual Slytherin trick to have a man lay out his life for the hope of a love who they may or may not find. The whole idea might just be a charm used to confund him into believing she was here... he shook himself vigorously, standing and approaching the gates of the manor with a small glance at Snape, who was notably shaken. Clearly, the amount of curse and ward breaking had shaken him. He touched the metal gates hesitantly, wondering for a few small seconds if Snape hadn't increased the wards just to spite him. But his hand touched the metal and there was no painful bolt of lightning. Instead, the gate opened at his touch, onto the large expanse of overgrown grass.

"Be warned, Black," Severus said from behind him, "Bellatrix is no fool. She will not have left it to chance that you could break down her wards. Unlike yourself, who believes safety lies in Grimmauld Place, she has inherited some degree of magical capability."

Sirius spun round to glare at the other wizard, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Just because I apologised, does not mean I'll resist jinxing you," he hissed lightly. "So keep your snarky, sarcastic comments to yourself!"

Smirking, Severus lifted his wand and flicked it casually. "Perhaps this is why Potter was so abysmal at Occlumency." His smirk broadened. "Being so close to a man who could not keep his emotions in check must have rubbed off on him."

"Harry has nothing to do with this!" Sirius growled. "I'm here to get Hermione. Either leave, or keep your bats mouth shut and your comments to yourself!"

Severus said nothing more, but his smirk remained plastered on his face, more to annoy Sirius than because he found the situation at all amusing. He might well be helping him find Hermione, but it did not mean he could not savour the precious hours when he could say anything he wanted, because Black knew quite well that he, Severus, was much better acquainted with the Dark Arts, and that while Dark Magic acted on him, Severus was the only person who might be able to explain any adverse affects of the spell he had carried out. Smirking continually, Severus followed Sirius to the front door of the Manor, carved from oak wood, with intricate patterns of snakes chiseled into the wood. Supressing a shudder to keep at bay the unease that gripped him with anything Slytherin, Sirius reached out and touched the brass knocker, half expecting Bellatrix to open the door with a malicious smile plastered on her long since weathered features. Nothing happened.

"Should I knock?" Sirius asked absently, forgetting his present company.

The sneer on Snape's face was answer enough, but it did not stop him answering aloud. "Why not? Perhaps your delightful cousin will grace us with tea and cakes before attempting to kill you." His sneer widened.

Sirius gritted his teeth and looked at the handle, made of gold and standing out bright against the dark wood. He reached out and twisted. The door flew open and he looked into a long hallway, biting his lip and stepping inside.

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The room was long and dark. A mahogany desk sat near the wall, with a stack of age old parchment, and a quill dipped in an ink well that had long been emptied. A large staircase led the way up the stairs, made of the same dark wood as the floorboards. The walls, panelled with mahogany, draped spiders webs that had long been abandoned by their inhabitants. The floor was dusty, smoothly so, except for a few stray footsteps that broke the dust, leading up the stairs. He moved to follow them, but was stopped by a long fingered hand wrapping around his arm. "Do not be a fool!" Snape hissed venomously. "Do you think you can just race up the stairs and pick her out of Bellatrix's hold? She will have set up further enchantments that must be broken! Enchantments that will kill you if you are foolish enough to doubt their strength!"

Sirius glared at Snape. "I'm sorry," he said coldly "but if you hadn't noticed, I'm already on a clock here!"

"Then use the single braincell you posess to think before you act! What use will it be you almost killing yourself to perform that idiotic spell if you simply get beaten by Bellatrix's wards and enchantments?" Severus turned to look around, noting several doors leading off the main hall. Sirius kicked angrily at the dusty floors, rubbing his arm, which burnt constantly with his wound.

"Lovely as the scenery is," Sirius said finally, after Severus showed no sign of movement, "I'd like to find Hermione today!"

"Be quiet you fool!" Severus hissed, flicking his wand in the direction of the nearest door. A purple flame shot from his wand, flying forwards to engulf the door... but it never did. A plasma like barrier appeared, absorbing the flame with a shimmer, before disappearing again. Sirius watched as he repeated it on each door leading from the hall. "It appears," Severus smirked, "that the only way is up..."

"Well lets go then!" Sirius growled angrily.

A sneer spread across Severus' thin mouth. "If the only way is up," Severus continued, "then up is the last place she'll be!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I can't be doing with this right now Snivellus! Either help, or leave, but by Merlin shut up!" He ran across the hall, leaping up the staircase three steps at a time. He half expected a bolt of lightning to strike him down as he raced upstairs, but none came. He reached the landing, much the same as the downstairs hall, but with several portraits hung on the walls. He shuddered at the sight of his Uncles and Aunts, hung from the wall in honour, despite being covered unceremoniously in cobwebs and dust.

"It's that despicable Nephew of ours!" A man in a black bowler hat and robes gasped.

"Nephew?" A purple robed, plump woman with dark hair called, "Nephew? I disown him! His blood is not of my line!" The portraits murmured their assent, but Sirius ignored them, walked cautiously across the landing, his wand held aloft, ready to strike. The first door he tried opened to admit him, but he was met only by an equally dusty but much more luxuriously decorated bedroom, with a fourposter bed, with the same intricately carved patterns in the wood that his relatives all seemed to admire so much. The second and third rooms were much the same, opening into luxurious bedrooms with fireplaces and sofas, as well as the large beds. The fourth opened into the toilet. The fifth was locked, but when opened, only led him into a room housing large cabinets, with old, Dark artefacts kept protected in the cabinets. As he entered, his arm burned viciously, causing him to cry out in agony and fall to the floor, writhing in pain as stars burst before his tightly closed eyes. He felt his arm being pulled forwards, towards the Dark artefacts that called to it. He pulled his arm to his chest and held it their, refusing to move forwards, holding himself firmly through the pain. Only when he felt a force pulling him backwards did he realize that the pain was ebbing away, and that he could see once again. His eyes watered for several moments as he heard the unmistakeable closing of a door, and the impatient clicking of disaproval. Thankfully, Snape did not voice a comment, but stood over the animagus, his arms crossed, as if daring him to stand up. He did so, albeit shakily, his legs threatening to collapse beneath him. He fell against the landing banister, avoiding the dark eyes that threatened to laugh at his weakness. Sirius gritted his teeth, and moved towards the next door. His hand closed on the handle, and without a look back at Severus, who was smirking widely, The second Sirius stepped forwards into the dark room, he twisted upside down, the cieling and chandelier suspended upright beneath him, his head spinning and his arm aching. The chandelier was broken, and shards of glass floated in mid-air, less than a few centimetres above his head, he looked upwards, at his feet, stood effortlessly on the floor. The blood pounded in his ears and he wondered what he should do. Harry had told him about the maze of the Triwizard tournament, where lifting his foot had righted him. This, he reasoned, was not as dangerous as falling into endless sky, even if he did fall, rather than right himself, though a fall directly down would result in a painful impaling on an ancient, broken chandelier, preceded by many sharp shards of glass tearing into his head. He stole himself, taking in several deep breaths, before lifting his foot. Several things happened at once. He did not fall, nor did the room right itself. He remained as he was, upside down, but somehow capable of standing. The shards of glass shot upwards towards him, as though falling to the floor. He lifted one arm instinctively to cover his face, but was not quick enough to stop one piece slicing a large cut across his cheek, whilst others ripped through his arm and he bit back a cry of pain. Behind him, the door slammed shut; swearing, he risked a glance ahead of him in the upside down room, noting three dark figures approaching. He couldn't make out any features from this distance, through the downpour of falling glass. As another shard cut his left hand, Sirius cast a protective spell around himself, hearing a rhythmic, consistent thunk, which meant shards were bouncing off the barrier he had set up. Spinning, both from being upside down and loss of blood, he healed his wounds hurriedly, closing his eyes before walking forward cautiously, careful to place each foot down before lifting the next, advancing slowly on the three dark figures. As he drew nearer, and the shards of glass stopped falling, he noted the long black hair, the pale skin of an almost Snape-like complexion. He gulped, wondering whether it was an illusion, or some magical Dark creature that cloned its tamer. He hoped niether, but could not see any hint that it was an illusion. Usually, when the figure moved, there was a slight ripple as light hit them, but the room was dark, and Sirius could barely make out the features, although he knew who they were.

"Where's Hermione?" He roared angrily, blood pounding in his ears, the cieling below him causing his vision to swirl.

"Where's Hermione?" Bellatrix mimicked, yet her voice was not alone. It was hers, of course, but there were three of them. Each mouth moved at exactly the same time, each uttering the same sylabble at the same second... "What makes you think I have anything to do with that filthy Mudblood's disappearance?" The snide comment was echoed, reverberating off the walls, but only two words really sunk into Sirius's mind.

"Do not," he hissed, "call her Mudblood!"

"Don't call her Mudblood!'" The Bellatrix's mimicked. "Is my darling ickle cousin protective? Does he love her!" Her laugh was a cackle, sending chills of anger rippling through him as he raised his wand. She cackled louder, then stopped suddenly, jerking her head to look at him with eyes flashing malevolently. "You owe me death!" She cried manically. "Avada kedavra!" Three bolts of green light flew from seperate wands, all aimed at the same place - Sirius' heart. Daringly, without thought, he dropped upwards, down onto his knees... even the thought caused his head to spin.. he rolled aside, the three bolts of light flying into the wooden wall behind him. From his crouched position on the floor, Sirius aimed a curse at the centre Bellatrix. All three turned and shrieked at the same moment, a protective barrier reflecting the curse and bouncing it into the walls. Sirius felt his head go light, dizziness causing his vision to blur as he attempted to make out the three forms of his cousin. Dodging three bolts of violent blue light he stood up yelling "Crucio!" and directing his wand at the nearest Bellatrix. At the same time, three red bolts hit him in the chest. The three Bellatrixs disappeared, and Sirius flew back into the wall, and then he was falling.. falling... and with a thud, everything went black.

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Severus tried the door repetitively to no avail, trying every unlocking spell he knew to open it. None worked. For the first time in a long while Severus Snape lost his patience, and sent several harsh bolts of lightning at the sealed door in an attempt to open it. Eventually, after having hissed several cusses involving the idiocy of Gryffindors, the door opened, and Severus walked forwards, pushing the door open and taking in the scene with a quick, sweeping glance.

A chandelier hung from the cieling, broken and dusty. The floor was littered with millions of glass shards. One particularly large one was glistening a deep crimson red, several drops of blood staining its cool surface, dripping onto the wooden floor. A few items of furniture- a chest of drawers; a writing desk; a hat stand - were lying upturned and on the floor, dented or smashed. Several of the wood panels on the wall had fallen off, and the others around the fallen had obtained a great deal of damage and were splintered. A thin crack of light entered the room through a small slit in the black curtains, and it was this light that drew Severus' attention to the black mass on the floor below the windowsill. With a sweeping of his robes, Severus stalked over, his eyes taking in the several cuts that had clearly been obtained from the glass that embedded itself in the creases of Sirius' clothing. He looked down on the unconscious Animagus with reluctant concern. The mans skin was pale, drained of blood, and his chest did not seem to move. "Renervate!" Severus murmured, pointing his wand at the man. He did not wake up, but his breathing strengthened. "Fool" Severus hissed to himself. He flicked his wand and levitated the unconscious Sirius from the room, for the second time in less than twenty four hours. It was a very reluctant Severus that took the unconscious mans arm and apparated him into the grounds of the Manor. He did not wish to leave the grounds and be required to break the wards a second time. He lowered Sirius to the floor under an oak tree and cast several spells around them for protection. He took out a deep red vial of potion from his robes and placed it on the floor, before crossing his arms and scouring the grounds with his eyes. The first thing he noted was the ivy creeping up the walls of the house, the other was the window on the highest floor, at the back of the house. It was, unlike the other windows, smashed and unrepaired. The room inside looked dark from this distance, and, though he could not be sure, in his years as a Death Eater, he had learnt many things about his fellows. In particular, he had learnt that Bellatrix preferred to give her victims great discomfort and pain before finishing them off. It would be a typically Bellatrix thing to do, to hide Hermione in the coldest, dirtiest, most unpleasant room, until Sirius arrived, before killing her in front of him.

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It was the first nightmare he had had in a long time. He had had vivid flashbacks nearly every night since his return from the veil, but now, he was tumbling into a scene he had never before seen or imagined. There she was, his Hermione; beautiful, young, flawless Hermione. But she was different. She was dressed in a pillowcase, her eyes seemed larger, and she bore a tea tray in her hands. "Mistress ordered tea, and Hermione delivers," Hermione said, in a voice very unlike her own. And Sirius noted the three figures of Bellatrix Lestrange, each reaching simultaneously to pick up a cup of tea.

"Go and clean the cauldrons," Bellatrix ordered, "or I'll flay you alive."

Hermione bowed low, her back somehow bending to touch her nose to the floor, before turning and scurrying away.

The scene changed.

Hermione's head was severed from her shoulders and placed on a plaque in the house of black, wearing a Santa hat, and a beard that Kreacher was adjusting lovingly. "My mistress would be so happy with Kreacher. Filth dirtying the floors of her house. Gone. Gone. Gone!" His eyes danced gleefully as he smiled maliciously. "Kreacher is the only servant now, oh yes. Miss Bellatrix was right. Dead. Dead. Dead!"

The elfs cackled faded away into nothingness as Sirius felt himself drawn into consciousness, his eyes flickering open to be blurred by the crisp morning sun. He lay for several moments, confusion blurring his train of thought, causing him to allow his eyes to wander over the branches of the tree above him. He reached out for Hermione, lying beside him, for the reassurance of her thoroughly non-elf form. His hand scrabbled the dirt. Only when he turned his head did he see the mud and grass on the floor beside him, and remember what had happened.

"Hermione!" He said, sitting bolt upright.

"And there I was, getting my hopes up that you might have died." Severus said snarkily.

Sirius jumped to his feet, brushing mud off his clothes and looking at the Manor ahead of them. "What time is it?" He demanded angrily.

Severus took a long time in reaching into his pocket to withdraw a pocket watch, with serpents moving around the edges. "Eight o'clock." He said in a bored voice. "You have little over eight hours." He pocketed the watch. "And perhaps next time, rather than being such an arrogant fool, you will take more care of what you are doing, or you may find you do not wake up again."

Sirius gritted his teeth, hating to admit that Snivellus was, in fact, correct.

"You will find that Miss Granger is in that room." He indicated the desolate room with the broken window.

"How do you know?" Sirius quipped.

"Because I know Bellatrix; I know how she thinks. And, because I took a look myself."

"Then why didn't you save her?" Sirius hissed.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt that would be possible. The deliberate planning Bellatrix has carried out is clearly aimed at you. And so, it is almost certain that nobody but you could possibly enter that room without sustaining serious injury."

Sirius let out a cold laugh. "Because she won't want to hurt me, will she?"

"You misunderstand me. She won't want anything but she herself to hurt you. She will naturally do her best to thwart your attempts to save Miss Granger using unforgiveables, until you are dancing around imperiused for her entertainment, until such a time when she gets bored, crucio's you several times, then kills you." Snape's eyes flashed. "She is not a woman who enjoys simple murder."

Sirius, bearing in mind how suddenly she had tried to kill him earlier, decided not to press this matter, looking up and wondering what eight hours held for him. He could feel his arm building up pain, a pain which was gradually throbbing with greater intensity. The wound itself was bruised, turning his arm purple and green, but the line which was her hair had turned a vivid black, seeming to turn his arm mouldy, showing corruption. He shuddered and looked towards the Manor window. Hermione was in there. Probably cold, shivering, lonely, feeling abandoned... it was Christmas morning. He would not let her spend Christmas alone, even if it was the last thing he did. He knew, as he thought it, that for him it was more than a metaphor. It could truly be the last thing he did. Without thinking, he drew parchment and quill from his pocket and began to write, watched by an all too intrigued Potions Master.

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Severus watched with interest as Sirius wrote, for a long time, leaving a page of neat black words. He did not try to read them. He looked towards the window of the Manor, where he had seen Hermione, tied up, cold, shivering, sobbing, a body mere feet away. She had been transformed in two days from a confident witch to a sobbing, emotional wreck. He could not blame her. He would have saved her, even if it meant handing her back to Black, just to stop the sobs that shook her body, wrenching his heart inside his chest. He had wanted to fly through that window and break the chains that held her down. But he couldn't. Even as he had approached the window, he had felt the strength of the spells on it, testing his magic and blood. Looking for a pureblood. Looking for a man with blood similar to Bellatrix's. Looking for a man whose heart pumped with such fierce force for the woman behind the window. Of all of these, Severus Snape could only match one.

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Sirius stood, after a half hour, casting a spell on the parchment before holding out the letter to Snape without meeting his eyes.

"If I die," he said softly, "give that to her." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded to the window. "How did you get up there?"

"I flew." Severus said, in a voice unlike his normal. There was something sinister and foreboding about watching a man so arrogant accept death and darkness so easily, preparing his last goodbye before he walked into the embrace of a fight he could not foretell the outcome of. Severus felt cold. For the first time in his life, he felt sorry for Sirius Black. For the first time, he wished to have words of consolation, rather than bitter comments to render the other man annoyed and frustrated.