Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.

A/N – Hello again - I'm back and with a fairly quick update for once! Your reviews after the last chapter were incredibly heart-warming and wonderful, and it gave me just the inspiration I needed to speed through some more of this story, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. Of course, this quick update has definitely been helped by the fact that I've had a very quiet weekend, but getting over the writer's block from the last chapter has been wonderful and extremely liberating, and is the main reason why I've managed to get this finished and posted so quickly! I don't know how long it will last, so I hope you enjoy it while it's still here! And more importantly, I really hope you enjoy this newest chapter!

~Strength in Weakness~

The Hideaway

After what felt like an eternity of confusing lights and loud noise interspersed with darkness and silence, Harry finally hit the ground with a heavy and incredibly painful thud, his stomach lurching as he struggled to regain his equilibrium. His body jarred painfully in the aftershocks of the landing, and he clenched his eyes shut in an effort to ride through the worst of it, even though admittedly Snape had probably the brunt of the impact for the both of them.

Once the world eventually stopped spinning, Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, though it still took a few minutes before he could feel much beyond pain. His head felt as if there were a thousand knives stabbing at his brain, and his body ached with such a fierceness that Harry knew he would struggle to even stand for any length of time, let alone run anywhere.

As he lay there, though, on that cold, hard ground, the memories began to trickle through the haze of pain, and slowly Harry remembered exactly what had just happened, and where he'd been only moments ago, and the breath almost stopped in his chest at the horrific revelation. He could feel Snape shifting slightly next to him, but other questions pounded at his mind, and it was all Harry could do to push back the nausea that was rising up in his chest. With an effort that would have worried him had he had time to think about it, Harry dragged his eyes open, hoping beyond all hope that the Portkey had worked, and that he and Snape had both made it out of the Ministry of Magic, and more importantly, out of Voldemort's clutches alive.

The first thing Harry realised, as he blinked his eyes rapidly in an effort to counter his blurry vision, was that they were outside. He blinked again, and as his eyes finally began to adjust to the darkness of their location, he noticed a line of flickering street lights some way to his right and the low hum of traffic rumbling down a distant street. What struck him most, however, was that they were surrounded on both sides by tall, dark, foreboding buildings, buildings so close to each other that Harry couldn't help but feel as if the walls were closing in.

It was an alleyway, Harry realised as he pulled himself up with a painful groan. They were in a dirty, cold alleyway. From what he could tell from the style of the buildings, and from the cool night air tinged with the feel that it might be about to start raining, Harry definitely got the feeling that they were still in Britain, though where in Britain was an entirely different matter. He could definitely hear traffic rumbling faintly in the distance though, so they were probably near a city, though which city it was, Harry didn't have the foggiest.

He glanced towards Snape, hoping he might know more, only to find that the man was unconscious again. Harry frowned, and with a last look around them to make sure they were alone, he dragged himself around until he was in a position where he could get a better look at the man. What he saw, however, almost made the breath stop in his chest.

Snape's face was ashen, and what little colour he'd had before their escape had long since gone now. The Professor looked half-dead, and his eyes were tightly closed; but although the grimace of pain on his face told Harry that though he was by no means in a comfortable slumber, at least he was still alive and breathing. And then Harry saw the blood beginning to seep from under Snape's robes, close to his shoulder, and all other thoughts fled his mind.

No, Harry thought numbly, his own face paling - Voldemort's final spell must've managed to hit Snape at the same moment as the Portkey had dragged them away. Harry pulled tentatively at the robes around Snape's neck and shoulder, swallowing back bile as he inspected the freely flowing would. A cutting curse probably, Harry realised, his thoughts moving like mud. Snape was lucky that it was only a deep graze, and that it had hit his shoulder and not his neck or head…

Harry shook himself violently and quickly pressed a hand to the wound, applying as much pressure to it as possible. Snape groaned in pain, but still didn't wake up, and it finally hit Harry that now they were in whole different kind of trouble. Not only did he not have a clue where they were, but Snape was also hurt, possibly dying, and Harry had no way to help him.

As if the sky had heard him, rain began to trickle down, slowly falling more heavily with each passing second. They were both drenched in seconds, and the longer Harry stared at Snape's pale face, the more he realised that he had to get them both somewhere safe, somewhere where they could hide and recover. Voldemort was angry, Harry knew that much from the pain still ebbing constantly in his head, and there was no doubt in Harry's mind that he would hunt them both down to the ends of the earth. They weren't safe here.

They weren't safe anywhere.

Harry shook himself again, decision already made. First, with a strength that pulled on every bit of his energy reserves, Harry pulled himself up and away from Snape, dragging himself to his feet. He staggered slightly as he tried to adjust to his new position, but though his head swam slightly, he managed, somehow, to stay on his feet. Then, without wasting any time, Harry bent over Snape once more, but this time instead of trying to press on the wound, Harry shook Snape slightly on his uninjured shoulder.

"Come on, Snape," he muttered, trying to wake the man up. "You need to help me. We can't stay here…"

He kept trying, simply because he knew that if they had any chance of finding somewhere to rest out of the rain, Snape would need to be conscious enough to help him. There was no way he would be able to drag an unconscious Snape anywhere, let alone to safety.

It wasn't long before panic began to override any other emotion. "Snape, come on you git…"

And then Snape groaned, and his eyes opened a crack, and Harry nearly cried in relief, though he bit that response back as best he could. Instead, he simply watched passively, but with no small amount of concern, as Snape cautiously opened his eyes a little more fully. The grimace of pain on his face, however, steadfastly remained.

"We need to go, Sir," Harry said intently, instinctively knowing that he couldn't really afford to waste any more time with explanations.

Snape didn't seem to be very aware of where he was, or who he was with, but Harry didn't really care at this point. He knew that time was of the essence, and that if they didn't move quickly, then Snape was going to bleed to death in the middle of the road, even before Voldemort was able to track them down.

"Come on, Sir," Harry repeated, and without thinking too much about the consequences, since he was pretty sure Snape was going to kill him anyway after this, he bent down again, and began to pull Snape up.

It wasn't easy, and there were a few moments where Harry genuinely considered leaving the man where he was whilst he went to go and get help. The only thing that stopped him in the end, however, was that he really didn't think Snape would last that long, especially with the rain still pouring down.

Harry was cold, drenched through to the bone, and exhausted beyond measure, but eventually, with a great deal of effort and no small amount of cursing, Harry finally had Snape on his feet. The Professor had his eyes closed again, and was leaning so heavily on the teenager that he wasn't sure either of them were going to stay on their feet for very long.

Now, Harry thought, doing his best to steady himself, all he had to do was find somewhere safe – and dry – for them to hide out, drag Snape with him to that miraculous hideout, then somehow stop the Professor from bleeding to death once they got there.

Harry took a deep breath, and with one of Snape's arms over his shoulders taking the majority of the man's weight, he set off. Every step was agony, but Harry couldn't get the image of Snape's bloody shoulder out of his mind, which gave him the motivation he needed to keep going. Of course, it helped that his head was aching with Voldemort's fury; it kept him scared that the bastard would find them, and that, though terrifying, kept him moving at least.

Harry managed to half-carry half-drag Snape almost to the end of the alleyway, but as he stopped to take a bit of a breather, he had to make a concerted effort not to let his panic and worry overtake him. It was no use though; he was definitely going to have to find a hideout sooner rather than later, especially if the weather carried on like this. It was getting worse…

Taking a final deep breath, Harry took most of Snape's weight again as he started to stagger forward once more. He had to keep going; Snape was out of it, but Harry knew that he needed to get him out of this rain fast or neither of them were going to survive much longer. Harry knew that he wouldn't last very long on the run, unable to use magic to defend himself or call for help, if he didn't have Snape by his side.

And then he saw it.

An old, abandoned house just past the end of the alleyway. It was in terrible condition. Half the windows were missing the glass, and those that weren't missing it were broken and cracked. Not only that but it seemed as if half the roof was missing, and some of the walls looked as if it would only take a breeze to knock them down. But, Harry thought to himself, half a roof was better than none. It would do.

Looking at the run0down building, Harry felt a second wind rush through him, and after wiping his wet fringe out of his eyes, Harry began dragging Snape into the direction of the derelict house, his nerves frayed but with hope flaring in his chest. So long as there was no one already squatting in there, it would be enough to keep them out of the rain for the moment.

It took what felt like an eternity, but finally they reached the front of the old house. From their brief trip down the alleyway, Harry could already tell that this was not a particularly nice area to be in - the only house wasn't the only run down building on this street - and he couldn't help but think that the sooner they made it safely inside, the better.

With that at the forefront of his mind, Harry took a nervous look around before staggering over to the door, and leaning Snape against the wall beside it. Snape somehow stayed upright, so Harry reckoned that he must still be somewhat conscious, a fact that caused him no small amount of relief. His relief was short-lived, however, when he tried the door.

It was locked, and no amount of pulling at the handle was going to make it move.

Harry glanced around quickly, desperate for another solution. He thought briefly about going in through one of the broken windows, but there was no guarantee that he'd be able to unlock the door once he was through, and there was definitely no way that Snape would be in any condition to follow him through the window.

That left only one rather unpleasant solution then, Harry realised. He was going to have to break the door down.

Without magic.

He'd half-thought about pulling his wand from his back pocket and trying that, but he'd quickly shoved that thought away. He was still underage, and if he used magic now, the Ministry would be on him in a second. And after Umbridge, Harry just didn't trust the Ministry enough to take that risk…

Shaking himself slightly, partly in an effort to warm up, and partly to steel himself for what he was about to do, Harry glanced over to the still figure of Snape, before taking a few steps back.

The door didn't look particularly strong or thick, but Harry knew he was going to have to take a run-up if he even hoped to make an impact on it.

Harry took a deep breath, and before he could think any more about how stupid this was, he charged forward, his shoulder braced and ready for impact…

Pain flared though his shoulder as he hit the door with a smack, but he felt door give and snap open. Breathing through clenched teeth, Harry did his best to ignore the agony coursing through his shoulder, and chose instead to focus on the next stage of his hasty plan. Getting Snape inside.

He stumbled over to the Professor, and unceremoniously grabbed the man's uninjured arm. Snape groaned again, but didn't fight him as he pulled him though the doorway.

The damp, musty smell of the old house hit Harry straight away, but he didn't have much time to consider it as he pulled Snape over to the nearest sheltered bit of wall. With his injured shoulder, Harry couldn't do much more than drag Snape over to lean against it before he had to let go. Snape, with his human crutch now gone, had nothing left to keep him upright, and he quickly slid down the wall, collapsing unconscious in a heap on the floor.

Harry was exhausted, and his mind was screaming at him to go and get help, to go and get someone who could fix Snape's shoulder, but there was no help to be had, not in this neighbourhood, and Harry knew instinctively that he was the only thing really standing between Snape and the man's possible death….

Shakily, Harry sank to the floor beside Snape, and, using his uninjured arm, Harry pulled at Snape's robes again, hoping to get a better look at Snape's wound.

It still looked bad.

In fact, Harry felt sick just looking at it, but forced back his nausea as best he could as he tried to think about what to do about it. He wouldn't let Snape die.

He couldn't let Snape die.

Thinking quickly, Harry began to divest Snape of his outer robes, leaving him in his normal teaching that he always wore underneath. Harry then took the robes and began to rip them, starting at the hole that had already been made by Voldemort's spell. With one long strip in his hand, Harry balled some more of the cloth up and pressed it tightly to the wound, hoping beyond all hope that it would be enough to staunch the blood seeping out of the wound, and that Snape wouldn't get a nasty infection from it. He didn't have anything to clean or disinfect the wound, so he was pinning his hopes on luck and the strength of Snape's immune system.

Harry still didn't really like the man, but if Snape died because of him, Harry knew he would never forgive himself.

With the ball of cloth in place, Harry pulled the strip around Snape's back and over his shoulder, tying it together as tightly as he dared. Snape remained unmoving and silent during the whole process, and that caused the worry to once more flare in Harry's chest, though he did his best to stay detached and focused.

Job done, and with adrenaline quickly leaving his body, Harry struggled to get up again once he had done what he could to give Snape a fighting chance. Once he realised that his body had reached the end of its endurance, Harry quickly gave up trying to move. Instead, he shivered and shifted his aching body until his back was against the wall next to Snape. The events of the night, from the moment he'd had that dreadful vision were finally beginning to catch up to him, and he felt the last of his strength almost seep out of him. His shoulder throbbed in rhythm to his beating heart, and his head was being spiked constantly with Voldemort's anger and his own rising guilt, but Harry simply closed his eyes and let it all drain away.

Harry's last thought before allowing to darkness to claim him once again, was that if by some miracle they both managed to survive this night in one piece, Snape was definitely going to kill him.

A/N – So what did you think? It wasn't the longest chapter in the world, but plenty happened. The last few chapters have ended in some pretty cruel cliff-hangers, so this chapter my small effort at making up for that a little bit. Obviously Harry and Snape in particular are still in a fair bit of trouble, and there are quite a few explanations still to come, but at least now you all know that they both escaped from Voldemort more or less intact. It's not going to be plain sailing from here of course, but it'll definitely be an interesting journey. Until next time, though, thanks for reading!