Fear settled in his stomach like an old friend, weighing his steps as he strode down Knockturn Alley, his rich robes tangling around his ankles with each stride. His middle finger twisted up and brushed over the bracelet he had finally taken to wearing after Rabastian had shown up wearing a simple imitation, the fashion finally moving beyond the Gryffindors. The warmth of the leather reassured him, made him press his nail into it a little harder, grounding himself.

How long had he relied on bravado? He couldn't remember a time in his life when he wasn't afraid, wasn't hiding some part of himself.

He was the perfect son, the perfect pureblood, the perfect student, the perfect Slytherin, the perfect Death Eater.

He was so afraid. He hadn't understood how Severus had done it for so many years, hadn't understood how Potter kept standing up to a madman who wanted nothing more than to kill him in the most painful way he could.

He'd hated himself for so long for being a coward, for being so afraid when someone like Granger could face down the Dark Lord.

He hadn't understood, not until he held his wand to Dumbledore, the watchful eyes of the other Death Eaters on his back and felt nothing but screaming, overwhelming fear.

It wasn't that they weren't afraid. It wasn't the vaunted Gryffindor courage or years of spying. They were all scared, all of them, just like he was. It wasn't bravery, or at least not bravery as he had understood it. It was simply that there was no other choice.

They did what they had to because the other choice wasn't one they were willing to make. The truth of bravery wasn't to lack fear or to face it, but to simply endure. To do what must be done under the yolk of terror.

Draco hated it. He wanted nothing more than to apparate away and leave Britain to burn itself to the ground, no matter that he knew he couldn't. There were people now, people he never expected to be a part of his life tying him to this place. If they sank he would drown, the thread of fate an anchor tying them down.

The low sign for the apothecary he needed swung into view, his steps slowing as he pushed the rusty door open and walked into air thick with the scent of potions. A small thrill of nostalgia shot through him, evenings spent in the potions labs at Hogwarts rushing back, the calm measured voice of his godfather directing him in whatever he was trying to concoct.

A small bell rang somewhere in the back as he made straight for the raw ingredients he would need. The Dark Lord had asked that he help brew several of the potions the Death Eaters were painfully short on since Severus had been outed and Draco had tentatively agreed, hoping that his new status would protect him when it became clear that he did not have the kind of skill that his godfather wielded.

The shop was oddly silent; the old shop keeper usually had the wireless on in the back, the faint scratchy hum irritating him just enough that he would have to put up a silencing spell if he was trying to concentrate. This silence today was nearly unnerving.

Draco stretched for a bottle of essence of murtlap, the small brown vials in neat rows on the top shelf. The scuff of a shoe was the only warning he got before pain exploded across his shoulder, burning along his arm as he jerked back, pulling his wand and spinning to face his attackers in one movement.

Two men, he didn't recognize stood in front of him, robes recently mended and hit heavily with cleaning charms. They both had healing lines on their faces and bruises marred what he could see of their skin.

The man nearer him had short brown hair and looked to be the older of the two, possibly near Severus' age. He was heavily muscled, shoulders straining at his robes and blocking off the aisle to the door outside. His companion was slimmer, with lighter hair and pale blue eyes the colour of deep-sea ice and just as warm.

Draco raised his wand, a shield snapping up with a crack, sending the stunner the second man sent at him bouncing off to shatter a jar of beetle eyes. They cascaded down the shelf and over the floor with a smooth hiss, tiny black specs pooling out and washing around his boots.

"I would consider very carefully what you're doing gentlemen," Draco said, his voice harsh as he rolled his left shoulder, trying to dispel the pain.

The older man sneered, his nondescript features taking on a sinister cast "Oh we know what we're doing Malfoy. We're paying You-Know-Who back for a few of ours."

Draco had an instant to read the murderous intent in the eyes of the men before a barrage of spells slammed into his shield, making it bow inward sharply.

Draco yelled and stumbled back, his boots barely keeping him upright on the slick beetle eyes as he poured more power into his shield. It had been almost three weeks since the ministry take over and they had known there were small groups of Aurors scattered throughout Britain but they had been hiding, keeping to themselves and licking their wounds.

As another wave of spells hit his already weak shield Draco lost any doubt that these men were Aurors. The things that they were throwing at him were battle magic, nothing an ordinary wizard would know.

He winced as he stumbled further into the back of the shop and his heel caught on a limp hand, the old shopkeeper sprawled out in an untidy mess just past the staff door, his skull caved in and filmy eyes staring sightlessly.

Draco grabbed the door that was held open with a thin piece of wood and kicked it free, swinging it shut as hard as he could trying to buy himself precious seconds. He turned and fled, throwing himself around the edge of a heavy table filled with half-prepared ingredients and empty potions jars, the catch of his hipbone on the corner sending glass raining in a tinkling cascade.

Behind him came a sharp crash as the door was kicked in, slamming back into the wall and knocking a stand of potions over, the peel of breaking glass echoing the earlier damage.

Draco glanced back just as he rounded the corner, hoping desperately that there was a back entrance. The men behind him were closer than he thought and he put on a burst of speed, his wand coming up to begin throwing hexes that were more in line with what they'd tried to hit him with.

Draco looked forward just in time to see a heavy piece of wood come swinging out of nowhere, the end held by a third man, face grim and eyes narrowed as his makeshift weapon caught Draco across the face.

He heard more than felt the crack, his skull vibrating with the impact as he fell, no longer able to tell which direction was up as the room spun around him and he blinked something wet and red out of his eyes, fear turning to confusion.

He had been trying to get away, hadn't he?

The room smeared as he tried to make sense of the faces above him but couldn't focus on anyone's features. Ropes snugged themselves tightly around his frame, digging cruelly into his arms and making his shoulder flair with pain.

Draco gave one small whimper as darkness took him.

Draco turned the scream that was fighting its way free of his chest into a pained grunt as he woke. His head pounded as if he'd fallen from his broom and he couldn't move his hands, ropes cutting into his arms making the blood throb in his fingers.

It took him a few seconds to make sense of what was happening, his brain sluggish as he tried to remember how he had gotten to where ever he was.

The stone he was leaning on was icy, his thin summer robes giving him little protection against it. Everything was musty and damp smelling, like the dungeon in the Manor, and it was so dark he couldn't see how large the space around him was, though it felt cavernous. He had a brief surge of terror when he opened his eyes and was greeted with nothing but blackness, fear that the blow to his face had blinded him only receding when his eyes made out the faintest hint of light leaking under a door in the corner furthest away from him.

He tried to shift some of his weight to relieve the pressure where the rope was pushing into his ribs but only succeeded in nearly falling over. His small scuffle as he tried to keep himself upright almost covered a similar sound off to his right.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice loud in the darkness.

"Who is it?" the response came after a long pause, the voice low and rough.

"Draco Malfoy, who are you?" Draco responded, not feeling up to playing games to find who else was trapped with him.

There was a pause, the sound of the other man breathing heavily now clear, the echo of it bouncing on the cold floor and distant walls.

Laughter broke out next to him, slowly devolving into something that sounded almost like sobs "Oh thank Merlin. He'll never leave you in here. He'll come for us both" the man choked out.

"Who are you," Draco said again, more sharply, his head pounding louder as his heart sped.

"Sorry Lord Malfoy, it's just me, Jugson. I don't know that we met, I was only in the Manor for a little while before these bastards caught me" the man, Jugson, answered.

A niggling memory of a man with shaggy brown hair and eyes the colour of whiskey flashed through his mind. "Our Lord feared you had deserted," Draco said, trying to keep his tone even. Trapped by Aurors and his only help was to be a Death Eater who'd been out of Azkaban for less than a month before he was recaptured.

"What do they want?" Draco asked, twisting himself around to shift closer to Jugson. Perhaps they could get each other's bindings off.

"Information. They just keep asking me what his plans are like I'd know" his voice was edging toward panic and Draco swallowed heavily, not wanting to think of the possible ways they could be asking for information. The scars on his back seemed to burn, tracing brief sparks of fire down his spine.

"I see" Draco paused, his movements halted as he closed in on the older wizard. "Can you help me get the ropes off?"

There was the sound of cloth shuffling and a scraping sound like stone dragging on stone before hands were ghosting over his arms, feeling where the ropes were.

"Yeah, just hold still. I have a rock with a bit of an edge, might take a minute" he said, his hands holding Draco's arm steady.

Sharp jerks against the rope made Draco stifle a noise of pain, the rough edge of the rock catching in skipping shudders against the sisal as it shredded slowly.

Draco forced himself still as the man sawed doggedly at his bindings, slowly freeing each of his limbs. Draco hissed in pain as his right arm was freed, blood rushing sharply into his hand with a throbbing ache. Draco didn't know how long it took Jugson to cut through all of his ropes but eventually, he was free and leaning against the wall, trying to rub feeling back into his hands.

His wand was gone, as he expected, but they had neglected his cuff, not having noticed the expansion charm on it or how many wards were layered into it. Draco made a face at the darkness in front of him as he realised he was going to have to thank Potter for the damn thing.

His hands brushed down his pockets once more, just to be sure they hadn't left anything else of use, only to freeze as he toyed with the empty pocket in his robes. The notebook. He'd had it out that morning after he apparated into the alley, scribbling a quick response before he was interrupted by Ministry toadies chatting with him on the way to Knockturn Alley. He'd stuffed the notebook in his pocket, not willing to open his cuff in front of anyone.

His throat was tight at the knowledge that they had it, his one connection to everyone on his side. His one connection to Hermione. He wasn't worried that they'd read anything, it had been a long time since he had doubted Hermione's spellwork, and honestly, if they were able to get it open to read it they'd likely march down and release him with an apology and a request that the Golden Trio not throw them to the Death Eaters.

No, he knew that if they tried it would burn, and he could only imagine how poorly that would go with Hermione. They'd likely already tried.

Draco toyed for a moment with the idea of trying to convince his captors that he was on their side but he couldn't see that ending well. They'd no reason to believe him and he was stuck in a dark room with a Death Eater who was sure to take exception to him being a traitor.

His musing was interrupted by the steady thud of footsteps drawing nearer before the door opened and admitted a flare of blinding light. Draco threw his hand up to cover his watering eyes, squinting at the shadow in the doorway.

"Looks like you got yourself free already snake," the shadow said. Draco couldn't tell which one of his captors it was, his memory of the apothecary still shaky. He tried to sneer at the man but it probably came off as more of a grimace, the swelling in his face making the movement tight and painful.

A clatter followed an instant later, the man stooping down to slide something toward them before he backed out, slamming and locking the door behind himself.

Jugson shuffled forward and picked up what sounded like a metal tray, likely with food.

"Here," the other man said, pushing a bowl into Draco's hands. "It's not great but we won't get anything else."

Draco felt around at the contents, pulling his hand back when his fingertips touched cold, gluey porridge. He grimaced at it but didn't bother asking for a spoon. He knew better.

He managed to get down half a bowl before the pain in his jaw made it too hard to continue opening his mouth and he pushed the leftovers into Jugson's hands, hopefully buying himself a small amount of goodwill.

"How long have you been in here?" Draco asked, waiting until the sound of the second bowl dropping onto the tray had stopped echoing off the walls.

"Dunno. Couple weeks maybe?" Jugson answered, his voice a little further away. "They didn't take me anywhere else, just here, so however long I've been missing."

"Just over two weeks then" Draco answered, counting forward from the ministry raid.

Silence fell as the other man digested that as Draco let his head fall back, tracing his fingers over his cuff and the tiny owl inscribed on the underside of it.

Eventually, the silence deepened and Draco let himself drift. He wanted to reach into his cuff and pull out the healing potions he had stored there but he couldn't risk the Aurors seeing that he had healed himself. He wouldn't give them a reason to search him again.


She woke to the smell of something burning.

Hermione grabbed her wand and lit the candles in her room with a flick of her wrist, the dregs of sleep muddling her. It took her too long to understand what she was seeing, too long to realise that the scent of burning paper and her spell work was coming from the battered blue notebook that rested on her bedside table.

She let out a tiny cry as the implications crashed into her, the edges of the pages already curling in and flaking apart, the lines of ink that traced the path of her feelings, that drew the frame around her connection to Draco burned in front of her.

She reached hesitant fingers out and brushed the coiled metal of the spine, her touch jarring it and knocking ash to the floor. She yanked her hand back and stumbled out of bed, her chest constricting as she tried to drag in tight breaths.

Hermione spun and fled through her door, blinding stumbling down the hall to Harry's room, the carpet snagging her toes with grasping threads.

She fell against the door, trying to draw in enough air to yell, to knock, something.

"Harry, I need you" she finally got out, the knob refusing to twist under her hand, her voice choked, her wand long forgotten.

A low crash came from the room, followed by the thump of bare feet on hardwood floors. She stumbled forward when the door was jerked open, her resting weight throwing it open faster than Harry anticipated.

"Mione, what's wrong?" he asked, green eyes worried and sharply alert. His wand was clutched in his hand and the dark shadow of a tall man loomed behind him.

"The notebook, it's burning" she got out, willing them to understand. Severus' sharply drawn breath was the only response, but it was enough.

He was suddenly at Harry's side, then ducking past, long legs taking the stairs three at a time, his grace for once leaving him as he lept and landed with a reverberating thud on the ground floor. Harry shared a glance with her before they took off after him, Harry moving with the tight control that he only got when he was focused.

Hermione followed Harry when he bolted through the basement door, still hanging open from where Severus had shoved his way past, and down to the potions lab. They found Severus hunched over his workbench, a large bowl filling with water from his wand. He leaned over to look and his long hair fell forward, shielding his face with soft waves.

He shoved it impatiently back as he moved to drop something from a small glass vial into the still sloshing water, his skin pebbled, his thin t-shirt and joggers not holding up to the chill of his lab. Severus flipped his cuff open impatiently and summoned something that looked like a drop of water, caught on a fine silver chain, and lowered it slowly into the basin. A child's tear, frozen in time and suspended on a necklace, a traditional wizarding gift to a godparent and something that should allow Severus to find him almost anywhere.

The water flashed blue, the dark deep blue of twilight before swirls of dusky purple spun through it aimlessly before Severus pulled the necklace out with a frustrated noise.

"Merlin damn it" Severus muttered, running his hands through his hair, his bare feet making no noise on the stone floor as he paced.

"I can't find him, he must be behind wards designed to block seeking spells," Severus finally said, coming to a halt in front of the bowl, the thin chain still grasped in his hand.

Hermione closed her eyes, counting slow breaths. If he was being deliberately hidden and the notebook had burned he was likely not in any place he wanted to be.

"The Ministry fell though. He was supposed to be safer" she heard herself whisper, unable to keep the thread of pleading from her voice.

A warm arm wrapped around her and pulled her snug as the slightly spicy scent that was Harry's magic enveloped her. She turned her head, letting her forehead rest in the crook of Harry's neck, trying to breathe through the fear that was digging claws into her chest.

"Hey, everything alright?" Ron's voice broke in, making them all jump. They'd been so focused that no one had heard him come down the stairs. Their headlong rush must have woken him.

"We can't find Draco," Harry said when no one spoke. "Someone tried to break into his notebook."

"Oh," Ron said softly. He hesitated a moment before he shuffled over in his tatty sleep joggers and loose Weasley Wizard Wheezes shirt and wrapped his long arms around both her and Harry, sandwiching her between her two best friends.

"He'll be alright 'Mione. We spent the better part of five years trying to off the git and nothing ever touched him" Ron muttered, making her laugh weakly.

They stood for a long time, surrounding her with their warmth and love, giving what they could when no one had the answer she needed.


The sharp thud of a door opening brought him out of his stupor, a jolt of pain shooting up his back as he wrenched his cold, stiff muscles into movement.

Draco watched listlessly as the shadowed man moved once again into their prison. It had been a week? Perhaps longer, he was finding it increasingly more difficult to separate the days into the neat chunks that had once dictated his life.

Jugson shifted against him, sitting up. They had quickly chosen to sleep near one another, mostly for warmth but also for the silent reassurance of a living body within reach in the cold dark.

They hadn't touched him yet, preferring to drag Jugson from the room for hours at a time, returning him broken and bloody, barely aware of where he was. They would turn up hours later and force a healing potion down his throat. Not enough to fully heal him, just enough to keep him alive.

It was a good tactic, one he'd seen the Dark Lord employ to great effect. Show the prisoner that you believed to have the information you wanted exactly what was going to happen to him, but don't touch him. The anticipation of pain was almost worse than the pain itself.

It was exhausting, the Aurors appearing at odd hours, nothing predictable that he could time or workaround. He was always tense, always ready to be pulled from the room. Jugson was becoming resentful, retreating to a corner during their waking hours, even though he knew as well as Draco did what they were doing, it wasn't easy to be tortured day after day and have your cellmate, who likely had the information they wanted, sitting cold but unharmed.

Draco was so used to their routine that he startled badly when a rough hand grabbed the front of his robes and wrenched him upright. So today was it, finally. Something akin to relief washed through him; at least the waiting was over. Draco only noticed once he was standing and paying attention that a second man had come into the room and neither of the Aurors was acting as they usually did. There was a frantic sort of abruptness to the clasp of their hands, the whites of their eyes too evident in the darkness of the room.

"Well boys looks like our time together is over," the brown-haired man said as he dragged Draco into the dim light of the corridor. Even the weak light was too much for his dark-adapted eyes and he missed part of their walk, blinking rapidly to clear his sight.

"Stop fucking around Jones, we gotta go" came from behind them, the voice hissing and furious as they sped down a dusty hall.

They paused outside two large double doors, the sort that Draco would expect to find on the entrance to a ballroom. The flashes he'd gotten on their short walk led him to believe that they were in an abandoned Manor house, not as large as his but still sizable.

The man holding him, Jones, started to say something when a scuffle broke out behind them and Draco found himself shoved face-first against the door, the larger man holding him easily.

The sound of fists striking flesh came as Draco struggled to get a glimpse of what was happening.

"Fuck! The little bastard bit me!" the second man yelled, a flash of red light and the dull sound of a body hitting the ground came a second later.

A crash sounded in the distance, making both men jerk around to stare down the hall, Draco finally able to pull back from the door enough to see.

Both Aurors were painfully still as they listened for something. Jugson lay on the floor at the feet of the blonde man, who had his left hand clamped over his forearm, blood seeping between his fingers.

Before Draco could figure out how to take advantage of their distraction they turned back to him, their faces set, a trickle of fear in their eyes. Hope surged in his chest. If they were scared it was likely that Death Eaters had found them.

The older Auror straightened, pulling Draco around so he could look him in the eye.

"It's too bad we didn't have time to get anything useful from you. Bad choice on our part, should've gone with Sig over there. He figured you'd talk soon as we pulled out the knives but I don't know." Jones cocked his head to the side, brown eyes evaluating.

A slow humorless smile spread over his face. "We can't keep you, and what with your lot taking the Ministry you won't get a trial, but we all know how it would have ended."

A niggle of fear began in Draco's chest, adrenaline seeping into his brain and tensing his muscles for flight.

"You know what murders get don't you Malfoy?" Jones hissed, his face twisting in satisfaction as he waved his wand and unlocked the doors behind Draco.

"I know they went over to your side, but they haven't eaten for weeks. Been keeping them for a special occasion. Wards in these old houses are dead useful" Jones said, a gust of frigid wind whipping out of the crack in the doors as they swung open.

Some part of him knew what he would see, but his breath still caught at the dark flutter of the dementors wispy cloaks, a confusing mix of them pressed tight to an invisible barrier, pushing the gaping holes that passed for their mouths as close to the small group of wizards as they could.

"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I were to tell you that I'm on your side," Draco said conversationally, trying to hide the panic that was closing his throat.

A snort of dark laughter came from his side "No, 'fraid not."

"You tried to open the notebook didn't you?" Draco asked, knowing they would likely have triggered the spells on it before he had even woken.

Jones raised an eyebrow at him "Of course we did. Neat little trick you had on it."

Draco leaned back, trying to get more space between him and the creatures desperately reaching for his soul. "Actually Hermione Granger put the spells on that. Didn't want anyone on Voldemort's side reading our notes.

Actual laughter was his response, Jones clapping him on the shoulder, "I'll give you this Malfoy, you've got guts. Too bad it won't help you. Too many people testified that you killed Dumbledore, we know you're not innocent."

Draco opened his mouth to respond, the strange detachment that had briefly fallen over him disappearing when he saw Jugson levitated off of the floor, his arms hanging limply.

"I'll give Ms. Granger your apologies when I see her next," Jones said, pushing Draco after the floating body of his fellow prisoner. Draco shoved back, fighting to keep himself away from the doors, even as he heard voices drifting down the hall.

He tripped, falling forward, away from the ballroom and onto Jones, even as Sig sent Jugson sailing through the barrier.

There was a sharp jerk on his arm and suddenly he wasn't scrambling away, he was being lifted, hands like iron bands around his upper arms. He caught a glimpse of Jones, his face screwed up in anger before he was suddenly airborne. Draco flailed his arms out, trying to grab anything, to stop himself from following the other Death Eater into the room.

The tips of his fingers grazed the door frame, and then he was falling, falling and sliding on slick wood floors, his breath fogging in the dark, icy air.

Jugson twitched, sprawled out on the floor to the side of Draco, dementors huddling around him like they were concerned he had fallen. Draco swallowed and slowly eased himself away, barely noting the slam of the heavy doors, sealing him in. A bare instant and Draco was walking away, soft-footed.

He couldn't save the other man, not now, not if he wanted any chance to get out.

While the dementors were occupied he snuck toward the far wall where a door leading out was half-hidden behind sweeping curtains and a pile of tables and chairs. He clamped down hard on his emotions, trying to bury them under the natural shields of his magic. The eyeless predators wouldn't be able to sense him if he could keep himself under control.

He made it to the door, eyes darting behind him every few steps and eased his way through the maze of tables, letting his hand fall silently to the brass knob, jiggling it a little when it didn't move under his bloodless grip.

He glanced back, nervous energy making his hands shake and sweat. He tried to pull just a sliver, a tiny trickle of magic to him. He pushed it down his hand, pressing it to the knob and whispered " alohomora".

Nothing happened. He huffed once, softly, as he mentally flipped through the potions in his cuff. Nothing he could use.

He glanced back to make sure the unfortunate Death Eater was still occupying them. A circle of misty cloaks still surrounded the man on the floor, but it didn't look right. It looked thinner.

Draco jerked around, his neck wrenching as the awful realisation crashed down.

A wisp of black cloak flicked out of his vision, drawing his attention upward.

With everything in him screaming to run, he tilted his head back just in time to meet the empty gaze of the dementor descending on him.


"We're under watch, but they don't have the kind of power they would need to start making purebloods disappear," Mr. Weasley said from his spot slumped by the fire, his face haggard as he huddled in his worn sweater.

"We should do something, make them believe that Ron is still there. They won't be as likely to go after you guys if you look like you're distancing the family from me" Harry said, his elbows propped on the smooth wood of the huge table.

"Oi mate, we don't need to distance ourselves from you. They know what side our family is on" Ron broke in, his heels tapping the cabinet with each backswing of his legs, his perch on the counter making him a few inches taller than usual.

"Think Mr. Weasley," Severus said, his voice coming out of the darkness of the corner, tucked as far from Harry as he could get while still being part of the conversation. Harry blinked at him, the bitter anger that had been surging through him for the last few weeks boiling up again as he tore his eyes away, refusing to look at the older man.

Severus' voice stuttered for an instant before it hardened "Your family will be safer for it." He hesitated before he continued, a layer of uncertainty in his tone "I know it is not something that you want to hear, but it would be worth considering Mr. Weasley returning home in actuality."

Protests rose from Ron, Hermione, and Harry, their voices blending and overlapping until Harry's broke through.

"And what, send him to sit at home, knock one of the few people who know what we're looking for out of the war?" Harry said, his voice sharp and vicious.

"Do not think that I will tolerate you taking that tone with me Potter" Snape snarled, lashing out at Harry, the hurt in his eyes there and gone in an instant.

"And what are you gonna do Snape, take points?" Harry asked, emphasizing his name. If he was going to use surnames so could everyone else.

Severus stared at him for a long moment, his dark eyes drowning in fire and pain, before he looked away, his gaze falling to the table. He clenched his fists and spoke through his teeth "Consider that if Mr. Weasley remains at home he will be in a position to return to Hogwarts, the only one of you that can, and could bring us information, and more importantly he could help protect the children. I do not know who they will elect for Headmaster but it is unlikely it will be someone acceptable."

Harry gave him a grudging look before slumping back into his spot, the anger draining out of him and leaving nothing but unhappiness.

"Yeah alright, not a bad point," Ron said diplomatically, blue eyes darting from his best friend to his former professor. Everyone had been on edge around them, ever since they returned from the Burrow and Harry finally pried out what Severus had been hiding for so long. His stomach turned when he thought of that night, the pain of it followed by the crushing anger, so much anger.

"I'll talk to your mother, alright? And the rest of the Order" Arthur said, standing with a slight grimace as his leg took the weight. The wound from the wedding was nearly healed but Harry knew that it still pained him.

He said his goodbyes, his bright eyes lingering on Harry, full of questions. Harry shook his head and accepted the hug Arthur gave him.

Arthur stepped into the fire and vanished with a hard whoosh of air just as Harry was turning away to head back to the library, his place of refuge from Severus and the rest of the house when Hermione stepped between him and the door.

"Hermione, I told you, I don't want to talk about it," he said, exhaustion creeping in despite his best efforts. Between him avoiding sleep so he didn't have to be in the same room as Severus and everything with Draco over the last week, he'd gotten very little rest.

"Sit down," Hermione said, brown eyes narrowed dangerously. Her tone was sharp and far harsher than she'd taken with him for years. Startled, he sat, catching Ron lowering himself into a chair off to the side. No one else was in the room, Severus having fled as soon as he could.

"I don't know what is going on with you two, which is up to you to share or not, I get it, but Harry this has to stop. It's making you both miserable and it's affecting the Order" she finished, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

Harry glared at the floor, his thoughts just as tangled as they had been for weeks. Merlin, he hated this. He had hoped that things would start to make sense, that he would stop being so angry with Severus, but every time he saw him his anger welled up again like it had a life of its own. Like it had its own inertia, speeding along and breaking him apart.

"He was the one. He told Voldemort about the prophecy" Harry blurted out, his heart clenching in his chest. Months they had spent together, months fighting and talking and learning to love each other and he hadn't said anything. He hadn't bothered to tell Harry that his own mother was Severus' best friend, that the awful day in the pensieve was the day he lashed out and lost her forever. He hadn't told him that he'd heard Trelawney speak the words that would kill his parents and damage Neville's beyond repair.

"Oh, Harry" Hermione murmured, kneeling in front of him and brushing his hair back from his face. "He told you?"

Harry just nodded miserably. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know what to feel and he didn't want to put this on Ron and Hermione because it seemed so trivial. Ron was worried his family might be captured and Hermione was holding herself together with sheer will and a great deal of tea, waiting to hear if the man she loved was ever coming back.

"Why?" Ron said, his voice loud in the quiet.

"Because he was a Death Eater Ron," Harry said flatly.

"No, I mean why did he tell you? There's no way you would have found out otherwise mate" Ron clarified.

Harry blinked, his mouth opening and closing for a moment before he remembered the first thing Severus had said to him the terrible night. He had lost the initial part of the conversation to his shock and rage.

"He said that he couldn't let me fall in love with a lie. That I'd never want him if I knew and he didn't want to trick me" Harry summarized.

"So he did the right thing?" Ron asked, falling back in his chair with a troubled look.

"Yeah, I guess so" Harry admitted, not liking the way it muddled his feelings.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, drawing his gaze back to her eyes "Do you still love him?"

Harry snorted, giving his best friend an incredulous look "Of course I still love him 'Mione. I wouldn't still be this bloody upset if I didn't. Would have given up on him instead" he muttered. He dropped his face into his hands and rubbed his temples. "It would be so much easier if I could just hate him."

"Do you want to? Hate him that is" Hermione asked, her hands resting gently on his knees.

Harry shook his head miserably. "No, I don't want to hate him" he whispered.

A hard look dropped over the face of the small witch in front of him. "So, what you're saying is that you still love him, he apologized and explained what he had done and yet you're stomping around snapping at him?"

Harry jerked back like he'd been slapped. "What the hell 'Mione? I'm allowed to be mad about this."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't be mad, it was a terrible thing he did. I'm saying that you're not being constructively mad" she explained.

Harry shared a baffled look with Ron, so many nights around the common room fire trying to make sense of Hermione's leaps of logic flashing through Harry's head.

"Mione, you're gonna need to explain that a little better," Ron said tentatively.

Hermione sat back on her heels, the firelight bathing her in soft golds and sending red highlights through her dark curls. Her pale blue shirt had an ink stain on the hem and the dark jeans she had on were almost worn through the knees and Harry realised, as he did sometimes, that she was utterly beautiful. This woman who had fought at his side for so many years, who held him when his life went to shit and who pulled them all together even when she was falling apart, she was beautiful.

"You're punishing him, Harry. You know you love him, you don't sound like you're planning on leaving him so this crap you're doing, it's just to punish him" she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she gazed into the dim flickers of the fire.

Harry felt like she'd gotten up and knocked the air out of him as he flashed through the stupid petty arguments he'd started, the way he'd left the room when Severus came in, the pile of pillows he had stuffed pointedly between them in the bed. She was right. He was so mad and some awful small part of him wanted Severus to hurt like he hurt, even if he didn't, not really. Merlin, he was so stupid.

"Fuck," he said, eloquently.

Hermione gave him a wobbly smile and patted his knee. "See, not constructively mad."

"Mione, I need you to know that I love you and I always will, but I am so glad you chose Malfoy" Ron muttered, eyes wide.

"My choosing Draco doesn't exclude you from getting lectured when you're being an idiot Ronald Weasley" she answered primly.

"What the hell am I supposed to do? I can't forgive him, I.. I'm just not ready to let that go" Harry said, his stomach tying itself into knots. He'd barely eaten the last few weeks, though he was doing better than Severus. The man had lost any weight Harry had managed to put on him and then some. Merlin, he was such an arse, he should have seen it sooner. He'd never meant to put Severus through what he had, he'd just been so hurt.

"Then tell him that Harry. Talk to him like an adult. Stop avoiding him and starting petty arguments. I know it's a challenge for both of you, but one of you is going to have to be the adult this time and I don't think he's up for it."

Harry sent a scowl her way, mainly on principle, but found himself nodding. They sat in silence as Hermione levered herself up onto the bench beside him and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Right. Nothing for it then" Harry said, levering himself up, his decision made.

He left the kitchen to calls of good luck, grabbing a half empty bottle of gin on his way by the liquor cabinet, a scantily dressed wizard waving a bundle of juniper berries at him from the label. Harry grimaced a bit at the lascivious wink he received as he climbed the stairs, heading for the attic.

Severus had been in one of three places the last few weeks, mostly his lab, but otherwise, he could be found in the dueling room or very rarely in their bedroom the few hours they slept. He'd been dosing himself with a sleeping potion the last couple of weeks, unable to fall asleep when Harry did otherwise.

Harry made it to the top of the staircase and paused on the short landing, the only door straight ahead of him. He could hear the cracks of spellwork from where he was and a tiny thrill of trepidation crept through him at the thought of opening the only thing that stood between him and an angry Severus Snape.

"Bloody hell" he whispered before he gathered the tattered remains of his courage and cracked his knuckles against the door in warning before he entered.

Severus stood in the middle of the room, sweat soaking his hair and covered neck to toe in his traditional black robes. He hadn't left their room without being fully dressed, including robes, since their fight and Harry suddenly saw them for what they were, just another shield.

"Come to finish what you started Potter?" Snape taunted, snapping his wand into his holster and holding his arms out wide in a mocking surrender.

Harry's face burned at the reminder, the moment when he'd shoved Severus against the wall and pressed the tip of his wand into his throat, screaming at him to take it back, to tell him he was lying. The most awful part was that Severus hadn't raised a hand to defend himself. He'd simply let Harry point his wand and do what he would, just as he was now.

"I'm sorry about that. I should never have held my wand to you" Harry said quietly, all his anger draining away at the thinly veiled desperation in Severus' eyes.

"What?" Severus stuttered out, his baffled expression making him look so much younger.

Harry just sighed and motioned him over to the long, low window that looked out over the back garden. He slid down and leaned against the wall under it, peaking his eyes over the edge of the sill and trying to make out any stars through the fog of London light.

A small huff announced Severus' arrival, his long legs folding carefully under him as he warily watched Harry like he was some kind of wild animal that might attack him.

"I'm still mad at you" Harry started, thumping the bottle of gin down between them. Severus stiffened and started to push himself right back up.

"I hardly needed you to tell me that. If you'll excuse me, I don't know that I have it in me for another night of this."

Harry's hand snapped out, seeker quick, and grabbed Severus' robes, tugging him gently back down. He resisted for only a second before he gave in, dark eyes fixed on the tip of Harry's trainer. He flipped a graceful hand at Harry, motioning for him to start again.

"I'm still mad, but I'm also sorry for the way I've been acting. Mione pointed out that I was being an arse" Harry rubbed at the back of his neck, not willing to meet Severus' eyes.

"Does she know what I did?" he asked very softly.

Harry nodded, meeting stunned black eyes. Merlin, he'd missed this, just being close to him. He'd been so mad that it had overwhelmed everything else, even this.

"I don't understand," he said, his eyes so vulnerable.

Harry locked his jaw and sank his fingertips into the folds of his jeans to stop himself from reaching out, from touching, because as soon as he did he wouldn't be able to stop. It was like when he finally decided to get through his anger it just fell away, thinned out to let all the other emotions trapped under it swim free.

"I love you," Harry said, needing to make that hint of fear, of uncertainty, vanish.

Severus jerked back like Harry had hit him, his eyes going hard and cold.

"This is low even for you Potter" he spat, pushing himself up as Harry scrambled after him, trying to figure out what the hell he'd done wrong this time.

"Damn it, Severus, stop!" Harry yelled at the retreating back.

The tall man spun on him, his robes flaring out around him like they had during their Hogwarts days "I will not be mocked, Potter. You can hate me for what I've done, hell you can even curse me for it, Merlin knows I deserve it, but you will not mock me." His voice was tight as he finished, his hand shaking slightly where he pointed a long finger at Harry's chest.

Harry swallowed, grief and guilt slamming through him. He should have seen, should have guessed that Severus would think the worst. He should have talked to Hermione sooner, should have done something sooner. Everything was just so confusing. He'd never been in love before and he didn't know how to handle it on the good days, but this? Harry would rather face a blast ended skrewt in nothing but his pants than try to untangle the twisted feelings rushing through him.

He didn't know how to fix this. He didn't know how to even start to make this better, and Severus was turning away and it didn't matter how mad he was he couldn't lose this, he couldn't , because Severus was something he never knew he needed, but he did need him. He needed him like he needed air; like he needed magic.

Before a plan had solidly formed Harry was striding the few steps between them and doing what he had wanted to since he saw Severus standing there in the middle of the room, so thin and so still, wearing all his shabby masks.

He wrapped his arms tightly around the slim waist and held on, burying his face in Severus' neck and just breathing him in.

The older wizard went stiff, his whole body bowing away from the contact, his hands hovering over Harry's shoulders. Harry just held on tighter.

Slowly, so slowly, thin hands fell onto his back and skimmed over his t-shirt, whipcord muscles pulling him carefully closer as if he would break if Severus held him too tightly; as if Harry would shatter apart if he wanted him too much.

Severus let out a tiny unwilling noise as all the tension drained from him and he fell around Harry like he was trying to envelop him.

Long hair fell around them both, Harry only realising then that he had been murmuring quiet reassurances into the soft skin of Severus' neck. His hands were shaking as he ran them through Harry's frazzled hair, his arms clutching so tightly that he was almost sure to have bruises.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of it, I never wanted any of it" Severus was whispering into his shoulder, his deep voice so desperate.

Harry pulled back reluctantly, meeting a gaze stripped of everything. Every single part of Severus showed, from his loose robes to his grasping hands, the slump of his shoulder and the pained set of his mouth. His eyes blazed with fear and hope and Harry had never seen him so naked.

He stretched up and carefully, so carefully, kissed him. Severus hesitated a brief second before he molded their mouths together, letting his tongue slip along Harry's when the younger man urged him closer. Severus kissed him with the same kind of desperation he had on the top of the Astronomy tower like it was his only chance to show Harry how he felt before it was taken away forever.

Harry found himself pulled flush to the lanky frame, the first stirring of interest pressing into his stomach before Severus carefully shifted his hips away.

Harry broke away, panting, and let his fingers comb through the long hair they had tangled themselves in. "You're an idiot if you think I stopped loving you," Harry said, trying for and missing a tone of admonishment.

"I'm an idiot then" Severus answered agreeably, his forehead resting against Harry's.

"I'm trying to forgive you, I'm just having a hard time with it and I think I'm gonna need some time" Harry explained into the silence, not liking that it was true but not willing to hide the truth from him either.

Severus pulled back, a troubled look on his face "Harry I never expected you to forgive me" he said.

Harry let go of him but motioned him back over to the abandoned bottled of gin, dropping down to the floor. Harry pulled the top off and took a small mouthful, only to sputter and immediately regret it.

"Idiot" Severus murmured fondly, summoning a bottle of firewhiskey from his cuff and holding it out to Harry. Harry frowned at the gin and after some consideration turning a small broken plant potter into a glass and freezing a bit of water in the bottom before he poured the clear alcohol over it.

He gave Severus a smug look as he sipped his considerably more pleasant drink and watched the other man take a sip of whiskey from his own conjured glass.

"Did you know?" Harry asked finally, the question that had been beating against his brain that he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask.

"Did I know she was pregnant you mean?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded.

"Of course I didn't. If I had known there was any chance it could be Lily I would have killed Trelawney before she could finish speaking her prophecy." The matter of fact way he admitted to potential murder made Harry pause.

"What would you have done to keep something like that a secret if Hermione was on the other end of it?" Severus asked, gaze intent.

Harry swallowed, not willing to admit that he would have done anything, everything, to keep what had happened to his mum and him from happening to Hermione and any child she might have later on.

He raised his glass and took a nervous sip, letting his silence speak for him. Severus gave him a knowing look but returned to his glass without further comment.

A considering sort of quiet fell over the room, the dueling dummies still spread out across the long attic, small fluffs of stuffing hanging from them where Severus had struck them in his practice. The warm wood floors glowed softly in the flickering candlelight, the scuffs and gouges already repairing themselves.

"I'm not even that mad at you about Mum" Harry broke the silence with the realisation he'd come to in the last week. "You're not the one who betrayed them. It wouldn't have mattered what you told Riddle if Peter hadn't let him in."

Harry held up his hand to forestall the protests he could see forming. "I'm mad at you because if it hadn't been mum you wouldn't have done anything. You might not have even changed sides. Sometimes I forget that you really were a Death Eater once and I guess this just kinda brought it all into perspective" Harry said.

Shame so intense it made Harry's stomach hurt flashed across Severus' face before he buried it.

"I'm just having trouble with it. I don't know how to deal with what you did to Neville's parents or all the people you hurt before that." Harry drew in a deep breath, trying to get out what had been building up for the past few weeks. "But I will because that's not who you are anymore. I'll figure it out, I just need you to be patient with me."

Severus nodded slowly, his eyes suspicious, disbelieving. "Does this mean you still want to try? With us, with whatever this is?" He motioned a bit awkwardly between the two of them.

Harry swallowed heavily but nodded, his gaze fixed on the rapid ripple of emotion that flashed over his face like memories on pensieve water, there and gone again.

"I don't.." Severus sighed, long fingers curling around his glass tightly, "I can't do this if you're going to hold this over me" Severus got out, his voice soft. "It's not fair of me to put that kind of restriction on you but if every time I do something wrong my past is brought up I would rather know now, before.." he trailed off, eyes fixed in the depths of his whiskey.

Harry shook his head vehemently "No, I wouldn't do that to you. If I didn't think I could get past this we wouldn't be talking right now" he answered, scooting closer to Severus so he could tangle their legs together.

Severus nodded a bit too rapidly, sending his long hair spilling around gaunt cheeks. Harry grimaced as he really looked at him for the first time in weeks.

"Not to be an arse but you could use a shower and something to eat," he said, earning himself a scowl but no actual disagreement.

It took another glass of whiskey and a fair amount of coaxing before Harry got them heading downstairs again, Severus trailing behind him like a surly dementor. But as they stepped onto the landing long fingers wrapped hesitantly around his and Harry let some of the tension that had been riding him for weeks fall away.

They'd be alright. He'd make sure of it.