AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi all! How has it been going? I'm stuck in college with finals and crap, so I've managed to take a break and get this up for you. PLEASE REVIEW???!!! WARNING: SLIGHTLY graphic descriptions of abuse and injuries. You've been warned.

LITTLE WHINING, about five O'clock at night that Tuesday, Number Four Privet Drive:

Sarah pulled her now dented, scratched, and scorched red truck up to the curb of Privet Drive. A sudden surge of prudence, perhaps brought on by a raging headache, caused her to park on the opposite side of the street than Number Four Privet Drive. It was shadier there, and she had a better and more inconspicuous view of the fifties-style, gray-sided house. She sported a few injuries; namely a cut above her right eyebrow, claw-marks on her arms, and some bruised ribs. Her nose had just a trickle of old blood from it, and her bottom lip was slightly swollen. Her head ached due a blow from a Death Eater with a mean left hook, and also partly to the fact that she had banged it off of her windshield in an attempt to run over a Dementor. Fortunately, she had been successful... after the second try. 'Damn stubborn half-dead idiots have no idea when to stay completely dead!' she thought acidly. Her mass of coppery-red hair glinted in the sunlight.  

She turned her attention to Number Four Privet Drive. 'I wonder how long I...' she left her thought unfinished as a massive pressure in her chest warned her of on-coming visions:

 FLASH

If she went in now, she could stop.... but if she did she also sacrificed...

 FLASH

If she waited even five minutes, it might be too late for.... but not for... but then she would have to seek vengeance...

FLASH

 Nighttime would bring unwanted visitors... but a better opportunity to...

A succession of innumerable options flashed before her burning eyes and aching head. In her mind's eye, she saw her world as only the gifted- cursed can... and chose her doings carefully. Frustrated with her choices, Sarah angrily threw open her door and hopped out, only just catching her stumble before it could happen. With slightly uneven steps, she stormed up to the front door of Number Four Privet Drive. Irritably, she jammed fly- away red strands of hair back into place.

Belatedly, she realized she still had her crowbar in her hand. 'Ah,' she thought solemnly and detachedly, 'so that is how it is to be then.' She held it tighter, but kept it still by her side. She pounded on the door with her other fist. She pounded for several minutes before an irritated Petunia Dursley finally flung the door wide in her haste and frustration. She caught her first glimpse of Sarah, and paled.

A split second later, Sarah shoved the stiff and staring woman unceremoniously out of her way as she marched determinedly into the house. She could hear Petunia sputtering back to life behind her as she continued through the house, calling Harry's name.

"You wretched... uh, uh, uh..." Petunia couldn't think straight.

"Where is Harry?" Sarah whirled around and pierced the horse-faced beastling with a glare she knew always frightened Petunia more than her mere presence in a room did. Petunia spouted a few more "ums" before she screeched for Vernon Dursley, and then continued "um"-ing.

 "I'll say this again," Sarah ground out, "Where. Is. Harry. NOW."

"I don't have to tell you anything you... you... you... um, um, um,..."

"You are very articulate, Petty."

"You... you... um, um... abnormality!"

Sarah stood with her hip cocked and her head tilted, giving Petunia a dead stare. She took out her sunglasses, and put them on.

"Ow. Ooh. You stun me badly. HARRY!" She heard shuffling overhead, and then loud thumping as Vernon Dursley thundered down the stairs as fast as his fat legs could take him. He knew his wife's voice--and she only sounded like that when she was in the room. Sarah rounded on him instantly.

"WHERE IS HARRY. You will produce him NOW," she growled. Losing patience, losing time, Sarah had a sinking knowledge that she knew where Harry was... and what condition he would be in.

 Vernon Dursley sprayed spit everywhere in his inelegant attempts at an answer for Sarah. Throwing caution to the winds--'Damn you Albus, you should have stopped this! And not left me to deal with it!'--Sarah gathered her growing inner storm of power, and breathed.

"Never mind," she clipped, and pushed past the blob-like body of Vernon and started up the stairs. She jumped nimbly and avoided him as he made a desperate swipe at her feet, wincing slightly as she landed and putting her hand to her bruised ribs.

 Instincts and something else that blossomed back to life inside of her brought her to Harry's door. She breathed deeply, holding her side, and turned the knob.

She let out what sounded like a small shriek to the occupants of Number Four Privet Drive... but was barely what she was capable of reaching.

 And flung herself at Dudley, who stood gaping in admiration for the petite redhead's body and presence, bringing the crowbar in her hand down on his raised arm. His arm was poised to deliver another blow to the small and crumpled form of Harry Potter; a blow he never got to deliver. Sarah knocked him flat, and made immediately for Harry's side.

 She scooped him up smoothly in her arms, gritting her teeth against the ache in her ribs. Holding Harry as if he was the most precious thing in the world, Sarah sent a silent string of epithets to Hogwarts and a silent string of prayers to whatever divine deity it was who had lead her there.

 She barely registered what happened to the house as she past through it upon returning to her truck. Her maternal part of her mind kept her distracted by Harry's condition and the need to get him as far away from the Dursleys as possible, while the tigress in her left wreckage in her wake. Shelves fell, the banisters splintered, and the door frames exploded. Petunia fainted, and the two males tried to hide behind each other in a pathetic jumble of blubbery arms and bodies.

ON THE WAY FROM LITTLE WHINING TO GATEWOOD HOUSE, approx. one hour later (6 PM) in Sarah's truck.

Sarah was more worried than she'd been in years. Her eyes were swirling brown and blue. She checked the temperature of the unconscious form of Harry Potter for the fifth time since leaving Number Four Privet Drive.

Her eyes turned to swirling dark and periwinkle blue as she felt his temperature increase yet again--he was burning up with fever, no doubt from infection in some of his injuries. She doubted he would make a fast recovery, assuming he was alive to recover by the time she got him home.

 Home for him would now be Gatewood House. She would not stand by and let Albus convince her to send him back to the Dursleys again. 'I'll be damned first! That old codger is getting a BIG piece of my mind when I get Harry stabilized!' she thought angrily. A few sparks of red flickered briefly but strongly amongst the blue of her eyes.

Beside her, Harry stirred in his death-like sleep. He murmured feverishly something about music. Sarah, catching hints of his mother, sighed deeply. Nodding her head as though in agreement with unheard voices, she popped in a CD and turned the volume down so it wasn't blasting. The sound of Celine Dion filled the truck.

Lily's sounds... Lily's music.

"I'm taking care of him now, Lily," Sarah spoke to the air, "I'm taking him home, where he belongs. He can't be with Sirius like you wanted, so now he comes with me. Just like you told me you wanted it. I'm sorry it took so long."

Harry sighed in his sleep, mumbling about heat. Sarah floored the gas pedal.

 By the time she reached Gatewood House, she'd managed to call ahead and arrange for others to have everything ready for Harry. Nadia, Magen, and Lady Bryn met them before Sarah had even managed to park the truck. Supporting his body as though their hands were a gurney, the four women carried Harry into the home. Brian, Saskia and Gabriel helped them get Harry onto the kitchen table then, while Adrienne woke the rest of the house.

People rushed around in a strange kind of ordered chaos, bringing medical supplies for Harry and preparing food and drink for the household. After a few hours of thorough medical work, Sarah ordered Harry to be taken to bed in her room. Lady Bryn took him from her arms before Sarah could protest, and made the journey herself:

"You stay here and take care of yourself. He's home now, where he belongs, and you need food and rest yourself. Not to mention a bit of stitching!" she called over her shoulder as she carried the sleeping Harry up the three flights of stairs to Sarah's room at the end of the hall. Sarah herself was forced to sit by Brian and Gabriel, who made sure she waited for and ate her food. Adrienne made Sarah's special tea then, and made her drink two mugs of it before she let Nadia tend to Sarah's wounds. There were very few, and minor--the bruised ribs were the worst, since not much could be done for them save rest, and Sarah was not big on rest.

 "I'm alright, I'm fine!" Sarah protested angrily when Saskia and Tori (another of her identical sisters) tried to get her to go to bed. She shoved off their hands, and gave them kisses and hugs in apology.

"I am going up to see Harry, then I'm off to the Burrow in the morning," she stated, grabbing a bottle of brandy from the wine cabinet before heading up the back staircase. It spiraled upwards, and branched off in small platforms at every floor.

There were three floors to Gatewood House, and Sarah had the last room on the left at the end of the hall on the third floor. Candles in their sconces lit up as she passed them on her way upward.

She tiptoed into her room, finding Lady Bryn kneeling at Harry's side on her bed. Sarah almost sighed at the gentleness in the touch that Lady Bryn used to stroke Harry's pitch-black hair... James's hair.

Sarah swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat, but smiled when Lady Bryn caught her gaze in the yellow lamplight. The fugitive royalty stood up, her golden curls sparking fabulously, and offered Sarah a small smile as she left. Sarah listened to her gentle foot-falls as she descended the back spiral staircase.

 She kept her gaze on the sixteen-year-old on her bed. He looked so young and helpless. His vulnerability reminded her sharply of when her brother Methuselah had come down with a raging pneumonia, and it had been up to her to tend to him. She herself had only been fourteen, but she was already showing magical potential. The image left her, and the memory of it left her shaking in her black leather boots.

Unsteadily, swiping a swig from the brandy bottle, Sarah made her way with uneven footsteps to her bed. Sighing, she lay down beside Harry, put her head on his shoulder gingerly, and laid a hand gently on his chest. She was careful to avoid his two broken ribs. Bruises marred his pale skin, and his bones were showing. Feeling the mother in her awaken, Sarah set the brandy on the nightstand after another healthy swig of it, and snuggled up tenderly to Harry, willing him to get better.

Her whole body willed Harry to get well... get better. She could feel it radiating from her skin; felt her body warm up and his cold one suck it in and absorb it like long-deprived of nutrition. She turned off the lamp reflexively with her mind, and the room glowed softly with the light of her healing will. Gradually, slowly, Harry's body began to warm. Sarah drifted off into a half-trance, half-sleeping state and didn't come out of it until the birds began to sing.

HOGWARTS, the next day (Wednesday), in July of 1999, Severus's Chambers, 1a.m.

She slides over him, skin against skin, her heart reflected in her eyes... eyes of purest and darkest violet. Her eyes are the most unique feature about her--sometimes glowing with the brightest amber to be found, sometimes burnished with browns and burgundies, other times raging fires of red. He loves her eyes. He loves her hair too. Her glorious, fire-shaming, brilliant red hair... the hair she lets down in cascades for him alone.

Her roughly silken copper-red strands tickle his nose and slide over his chest, just as she is tickling his feet and sliding over his legs. Her hands, strong and elegant, glide up his legs and her eyes sparkle green with mischief. Her body lives up to her eyes: she kisses his neck, his chest; her piano-player hands working their magic on his manhood. She reaches for his face, stroking it; adoring it. She bends to bestow a soul-wrenching kiss as she settles herself on top....

Severus Snape awoke alone in his bed, and the silence that greeted him stole his breath. The coldness of the dungeons seeped into his bones, sucking the arousal and warmth from his body. He couldn't remember his dream, but he knew the dream too well to forget it.

 He always awoke from that dream so bloody damn alone.

ON THE ROAD FROM GATEWOOD TO THE BURROW, that same Wed, Sarah's truck, about 1AM.

She had decided to take the truck to the Burrow, not only to reduce Molly's embarrassment, but also for the simple reason that, for all intents and purposes (despite his obsession with and CONSTANT tampering), Arthur was a good mechanic. And with the infamous twins at his side he could have her truck back in reasonably nice shape within a day. Er, give or take.

She blasted the Goo-Goo Dolls through her stereo. "Long Way Down" cut its way through the air, just as she maneuvered her way viciously through traffic. She though of Harry, and called the house to check on him. Brian and Lady Bryn assured her that he was still sleeping, and that Nadia was currently lying down with him. That made her feel slightly better. Giving an understandably clipped good-bye to Tori, who had wrestled the phone away from Brian, she cut the connection.

Impatient with traffic, she went through maps in her head. 'It helps to have a photographic memory when it comes to geography,' she thought acidly, remembering terrain that she would rather leave well enough alone in her memory.

 Now decided, she turned sharply off the main drag and onto back country roads which bore no speed limits and winding gravel through- ways where she nearly hit some deer. Sarah swore heavily and creatively as she hit the brakes to avoid hitting the stupid animals. Sighing deeply, she shook her head before hitting the accelerator again after the dear had leapt out of harm's way.

"Dammit, watch where the hell yer goin'! Or next time you'll be Animagus flambé!" she yelled to no one in particular, "More time off my ass!" she muttered in afterthought, "Wonderful... simply wonderful. Wizards as friendly furry forest animals... what the hell will they think of next?"

 The back roads she knew so well aided her greatly in her journey. Glancing at the dashboard clock, she nodded in some small amount of pride that her calculations had been fairly accurate--she had, indeed, cut nearly three hours off of her journey in taking the route she had. She filed that bit of information away in her mind.

She fished around in her purse for an herbal cigarette (she made these nicotine-free cigs herself from an old family formula) and lit it. She took a semi-comforting drag, not once taking her eyes from the gravel one-lane she was negotiating. The road twisted and turned in an erratic manner, and it was bumpier than hell.

She cut off the Goo-Goo Dolls mid-song, and switched to an Orbital CD. Grateful for fewer words to distract her, she let the techno beat thrum through her system. Her chest vibrated with the bass, but the cigarette helped to ease the pain. Taking a longer drag this time, she hit a particularly nasty bump in the road and swore mildly.

 After much debate, she grabbed her cell phone off its perch on the dashboard and dialed Molly's number. There was no answer; the magically-run answering machine picked up instead. Sarah sighed, not sure if she was grateful for that as well, or not.

 "Molly, I'm coming over soon. Expect me when you see me," she said, and hung up. It was useless to say more; Molly would only worry herself to death over Harry before Sarah had a chance to get there and calm her down. Sarah sighed, and began to make a mental list of things to talk about and to be done.

 And sooner or later, she was going to give Dumbledore a piece of her mind... and she hoped he choked on it!

HOGWARTS, 7:00 AM, Dumbledore's office, that same day.

"I don't care, Dumbledore!" Sirius Black exclaimed angrily, "I don't want him living there anymore! Those Muggles are not his family, as far as I'm concerned!" Dumbledore sighed, and began to clean his glasses on his robes.

 "Calm yourself, Sirius," Remus Lupin said; placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Getting angry will not help us get Harry." Sirius sighed in perfect imitation of Dumbledore, and his shoulders sagged dejectedly. Remus's heart gave a sharp tug, and Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Sirius, I would once again remind you that it is not safe to bring Harry anywhere just yet," Albus said in a weary voice, "At least, not until we know where the leak in the Ministry is. Until then," he held up a withered hand to stop Sirius's comment, "Until then, it is not safe. I'm sorry, truly, I am. Oh, Severus, do come in."

The tension between Sirius Black and Severus Snape was almost palpable as the exhausted Potions Master entered the Headmaster's study. Sirius's dark chocolate brown eyes bore holes into Severus's black onyx ones. Both men looked away at the same time, leaving a thousand retorts and a hundred questions unsaid. Remus shifted slightly, uncomfortably, on the couch he was sharing with Sirius.

 "Headmaster," Severus nodded in his direction as he addressed his superior, and he sat down in a plush armchair on the other side of Remus and closer to Dumbledore. His face was still splotched slightly with bruises--he had run out of the potion that got rid of them. He sighed inwardly, realizing that it would--once again--fall to him to make more. As if he wasn't busy enough already!

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted him warmly, if tiredly, "Some tea?"

"No, thank you Albus."

'Nothing will warm my body this morning... or my soul. Not after that damn dream... that damned haunting, beautiful dream that I can never have,' he thought.

"You look... better, er, Severus," Remus ventured to say. The pale man draped constantly in black robes nodded curtly to him after a moment of hesitation.

"Thank you, Lupin," he said curtly, and turned his attention back to Albus. The old wizard nodded, and placed his spectacles back on his nose.

"Thank you for coming, Severus," Dumbledore started, "I appreciate you coming so early, especially with your busy schedule. Sirius, Remus," he addressed the other two men, "We'll talk more later. Now, if you would be so kind, please do check on our contact list?"

"Of course, Albus," Remus said, pulling on a protesting Sirius Black and leaving the room. Severus let out a heavy sigh that coincided with the shutting of the door. Only then did he let his shoulders sag in weariness... that was his only concession to his tiredness, even in the presence of his one and only friend.

"What happened, old friend?" Albus Dumbledore asked quietly. Severus sighed again, this time in frustration, and didn't move or reply for several seconds.

"I think he knows, Albus," he said, "I think he knows that we're onto him somehow. He was... extra-vigorous in his... questioning of me." He didn't see the sad look that came into the old man's eyes, nor the resigned nod he gave.

 "Do you think he suspects you as a spy?"

"I'm almost positive. At the very least, he knows that my loyalties to him are... no longer what they used to be."

 "I see." There were several moments of silence. "I think I'll have that tea, Albus."

"Of course, old friend... would you like lemon as well?"

A/N: So.... what'd you think? PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review for me!!!!???? I live for that shit! Let me know if I make a boo-boo or if you like something or ANYTHING!!!! Would you like to see something happen? Email me and let me know!