Harry followed Hermione out of the Hall, puzzling over Snape's absence. Even

when he had been spying on Voldemort, he had never missed a meal in the

hall. Not once. So why on earth start now?

A niggling ball of worry rolling around his gut informed harry that it was

almost certainly his fault. He had been too harsh on the man who had tried

to help him; who had been there, pulled him out of the dream.

However now didn't seem to be the best time to contemplate this. Hermione

looked at him, sadness and sympathy shining in her eyes and Harry felt a

rush of hot anger. What right did she have to be concerned now? Where had

that concern been when he needed it?

"Harry, Dean and Seamus spoke to me. They were so worried about your. .

.umm, self-mutilation. . .we didn't know what to do. Did you talk to Madam

Pomfrey?"

The phrase 'self-mutilation' made Harry squirm, and he forced yet another

fake smile onto his face and nodded. It was enough to make Hermione look

relieved, but he elaborated anyway.

"I discussed things with her and professor Dumbledore. . .I feel a lot

better now."

"Oh good" she said, looking relieved. "Do you. . ."

Her question was cut off by Harry pulling her into a dark corner as

Dumbledore and McGonagall came out talking in low voices.

"He's disappeared, Minerva. He left the castle and went to Hogsmeade last

night - with my permission, don't look so disapproving - and then he was

charted as being in the Three Broomsticks this morning. However just now he

disappeared from the chart. Someone must have taken him"

Harry felt suddenly cold and hot and dizzy, and was aware of Hermione

tugging his sleeve. Oh God, it was his fault. If he hadn't flinched away. .

.if he hadn't ignored Snape. . .slowly his will crumbled and he began to

shiver. Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide and anxious.

"Oh Harry, what do you think has happened to him?"

Harry shrugged, cursing her. How the hell should he know? He was furious at

himself for being so worried. Snape was a fully grown man; he could take

perfectly good care of himself. And he meant nothing to Harry.

However after trusting someone for so long, it was hard to just make life go

back to normal. How would the old Harry Potter have acted? Rubbing his

temples, he forced himself not to hit Hermione as she persistently tugged on

his sleeve.

"What?"

"Do you think he's alright?"

"Um, well, since he seems to have been abducted, I would say NO!"

She flinched at his tone of voice and glared, but he wasn't listening. He

had heard Dumbledore.

"I think Harry will try and go after him if he finds out, Minerva. Make sure

he is closely guarded."

Harry presumed his head of house had nodded. There was the sound of

retreating footsteps which faded into silence, and he stared at Hermione.

"I thought all this crap was meant to be over when Voldemort died?"

*************************************************

Snape tried to open his eyes, and groaned at the pain. His head felt like it

was being split open. He wondered where he was. This certainly didn't look

like the Three Broomsticks. Or smell like it, for that matter. He wrinkled

his nose. Smelled like old meat. It felt like a cave; it was dark, but he

could feel cool air circulating, and there was dust underneath him. His

first thought was that Voldemort must finally have got to him. Then he

remembered that Voldemort and all of the Death Eaters were dead. Or Kissed,

which was not much better. So. . .he was in a cave. Somewhere. After all

these years of spying, he was finally kidnapped when Voldemort was dead. How

ironic, he sneered to himself.

And then all sarcastic traces of irony fled his mind as he recognised the

voice which cast the spell.

'Itortuus'

He bit his lip against the pain. Sirius Black had never been as strong a

wizard as Snape, but some anger seemed to fuel these offensive spells and

give them a great potency. The curse lifted, and a boot thudded into his

side, causing the ribs to pop with a sickening sound. Snape groaned and

rolled over, trying to get up before he realised he was bound with magical

ropes.

Damn Sirius Black for growing a brain.

"To. . .ugh. . .what do I owe this pleasure, Black?" he asked, spitting

blood onto the cave floor from where he had bitten his tongue at the mutt's

kick.

"My godson" hissed Black. "You corrupted him. . .Remus told me all about it.

He trusted you, you slimy bastard!"

He punctuated his last sentence with kicks to Snape's stomach, and with a

small shock some part of Snape's brain told him that, after all these years

of determined survival, clawing his way back from death as many times as

Harry, he was now going to be killed by a jealous dog. It was a cruel irony.

He tried to force his tortured muscles into relaxation, to prevent his death

from being long and drawn out. Another rib cracked, and he winced despite

himself. There was very little he could do against such reckless hate, and

in some perverse way he deserved it, really. Deserved it for not being there

for Harry when he had been needed.

The kicks stopped, and he could hear Sirius' ragged breathing above him. It

almost sounded like the man was sobbing.

"I wanted to be there for him, but I didn't know how. How could you

understand? You're just greasy Snape, the nasty potions master. How could it

have been you who understood Harry? It's not fair!"

Snape shook his head, painfully, coughing up blood.

"It's not, is it? Believe me, I didn't want to help him. I didn't want

anything to do with him. But circumstances meant that you couldn't be there,

and I was. Whatever I've done in my past, I am not a cruel man now. . ."

He was cut off by Black lifting him from the ground with a snarl.

"Not cruel? NOT CRUEL? Dumbledore told me what happened. He told me how you

had exploded at him, hurt him, broken him. That's the cruellest thing you've

ever done, Snape!"

Mentally Snape cursed both himself, Dumbledore and Black to a thousand

painful deaths as spots began to form in front of his eyes.

"Impassus!" roared Black, and waves of pain crashed through Snape, as his

eyes began to roll back in his head.

"Impassus!" again, with the same ferocity, and he saw Black's loathing of

Snape and himself written clearly in the pale and haggard face.

"Impassus!", running out of breath, even his internal organs pulsing with

pain. So this was it, this was the end.

"Impassus!" Black's tear-streaked face, the last thing he saw, and he

succumbed to the warm, sweet darkness.

***************************************************

Sirius looked down at his unconscious enemy. Much as he had acted it in his

carefree schooldays, he was no idiot, and he knew the strength of the curse

he had been wielding. One more 'dose' would finish off Snape. He should do

it. He wanted to. He hated the man as he had never hated before, for knowing

how to help his godson; the one love in his life. Someone he could care for.

But he had handled it all so badly, and then Remus had upset him further,

and still Snape had been there. Always there, giving Harry the support that

SIRIUS should have given him. And it seemed that hurting Snape was the only

way to make him feel better. When he had seen the eldest Weasley walking

down the street looking very disgruntled, and then had found out that Snape

was hung-over in the Three Broomsticks was an unmissable opportunity. Now he

was feeling slightly bad. Well, Harry didn't need him. Harry would be fine

with Sirius. Harry was meant to be with Sirius.

Raising his wand, he took a deep breath.

"Impass. . ."

"Expelliarmus!"

Sirius flew backwards with the force of the spell, his face not even having

time to contort into dismay. He wished he didn't recognise the voice, and he

wished that he could close his eyes so that he would not have to see the

emotions play over Dumbledore's face. Disappointment? Anger? Sadness?

Probably all three.

But nothing happened. He lay motionless, magically stunned but still awake,

on the cool hard floor of the cave, and began to feel scared. He was going

to go back to Azkaban. With the Dementors; but this time, with nobody to

save him, no ray of light to be seen. He could hear the low mutter of

voices, and then someone calling Snape's name loudly, but there was no

response.

Then there were footsteps, and he was released from his bonds. It was

Dumbledore, as he had feared.

"Mr Black, you will accompany me back to the school" he said curtly, his

eyes cold, and Sirius felt like something had died inside.

"Albus, I didn't know what to do. How was it him? It should have been me! I

should have been the one to look after him. He's MY godson!"

Dumbledore's expression softened slightly, and he even gave Sirius a hand

up.

"I fail to see why you cannot just talk about these things like a sensible

man, Sirius."

Sirius hung his head.

"Will he be ok?"

"Yes. . .Severus has come through worse than this, though he may refuse to

admit it. Were I you, I would steer well clear of him."

"You mean. . .I'm not going to Azkaban?"

"No. You do not deserve that, however foolish your actions today have been."

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, though from the look in Dumbledore's blue

eyes he was by no means off the hook. Still. . .no Azkaban. . .maybe, maybe

it wasn't too late to see Harry. Maybe he could make things better now.

***********************************************

Hermione was REALLY getting on Harry's nerves. Every five minutes she would

lay down her book, refusing to leave him alone but obviously bored by his

feeble attempts at conversation, and ask if he thought Snape was back. When

he finally lost his temper and said he didn't know, and he was going to take

a walk, she glared at him and followed him out of the Common Room still

clutching her book. Accepting that he would get no peace, Harry finally sat

down sulkily and looked out of the window. Which was how he saw Snape come

back. On a stretcher.

Eyes wide, he rushed downstairs, ignoring Hermione's cries for him to stop

running in the corridors, and wrenched the main doors open so that

McGonagall could bring Snape through. Laid out on the stretcher, his lips

were tinged with purple and his mouth covered in dried blood. Silently,

Harry watched them go past, thinking how much Snape looked like he was dead.

Thinking how it felt like the bottom had just dropped out of his heart.