AN: This story was originally a one-shot but it seems to be developing into something bigger! I'm not sure where it will take us right now, but hopefully you'll all be along for the ride! Please read and review, thank you!

"You can't be serious, Harry!" Sirius spluttered as he surged to his feet. "It's too dangerous – and why, in all that's holy, would you make such a sacrifice for that sorry excuse for a man?!" he paced back and forth, agitated beyond words, "after all he's done? I forbid it, Harry, I absolutely forbid it!"

"Sirius, just hear me out!" Harry surged to his feet too, hands raised in supplication as he stepped over to his furious Godfather who was doing his best to wear away what little remained of the threadbare carpet in the stuffy lounge of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Look, I know you and Snape have history –" he began but was cut off by a derisory snarl from the seething Black. He took a small step backwards as the taller man advanced on him, his lips drawn back in a ferocious snarl. In that moment he looked every bit the deranged escapee from Azkaban. Harry swallowed nervously.

"You might be my Godson Harry, but don't presume to know all that went on between us! The man is pure poison! He blackens and kills every man, woman or beast that has the sorry misfortune to cross his path! He is a succubus on humanity – the man deserves to die in long and protracted agony after all he has done – he brought James – he brought your dad and your dear, kind, beautiful mum to Voldemort's attention and got them killed, God DAMMIT!" he whirled suddenly, snatching a bottle of Firewhisky from the coffee table and hurling it with terrifying force against the wall where it shattered into thousands of glittering shards. Firewhisky showered them in a million tiny droplets, sparkling across Harry's glasses like diamonds. The tension in the room was palpable.

Sirius stood with his back to Harry, his chest heaving with fury, his hands clenched into tight fists. His voice was low and menacing as he spoke, "You do this Harry, and anything, ANYTHING happens to you or anyone else, and I swear to you, Snape will truly know the meaning of suffering – and he will beg me to release his sorry ass to Death's welcoming arms by the time I'm through with him!" as he spat the final word, he shouldered past Harry and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that an aged portrait fell to the floor with a crash where the slumbering occupant let out an indignant yelp at being so rudely awakened.

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly and turned to face the only other occupant in the room. Remus Lupin looked unfazed by his childhood friend's behaviour and he rose slowly from his seat in the patched old armchair and came to rest a hand gently on Harry's arm.

"He's upset, but it will pass. He has always had a very volatile temper – given his ancestry, what hope did he have of remaining calm in such situations?" he offered Harry a wan smile.

"Has he always been so petulant?" Harry muttered as he slumped down into the seat Lupin had just vacated.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, if you pretend you didn't hear me confirm it! Yes Harry – he's always been this way. Give him time and he will see sense. I think deep down he knows Severus tried to protect you and your parents once he had realised his mistake, but I don't believe he's capable of forgiving him for it. James and Lily were like family to him."

Harry nodded mutely. "Snape has always been a git to me Remus, you know that. But Hermione sees the good in him, she loves him, and I have to do what I can to help him, to help her."

"I quite understand Harry, and it is very admirable for you to see it that way. Like Hermione, I see the good in him too – he is a tremendously brave man," his voice began to waver slightly as he spoke, "I owe it to him to try and put right what I did to him." He swallowed hard as he forced a trembling hand into his coat pocket and withdrew the small bottle of swirling purple potion Hermione had handed him at Severus's bedside.

"What is that?" Harry questioned as he nodded at the bottle.

"A cure," Remus whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, "Severus created a cure for lycanthropy. For me."

He sighed deeply before leaning wearily against the arm of Harry's chair. He turned to look at Harry, a solemn expression on his face. "Harry, Sirius is wrong about Severus. We were…cruel to him. Sirius, James, Peter – me. The others used to think of new ways to torment him, humiliate him. You see, your father was jealous of Severus's closeness to Lily. He wanted her, and what James wanted, he generally got. Don't get me wrong, I loved your father, he was a wonderful friend to me, but I must be honest and I'm afraid to tell you that he and Sirius were relentless in their hounding of Severus. I'm even more ashamed to say that I did not do enough to stop it." He returned his gaze to the small bottle still clasped in his hand and took a shaky breath. "I owe it to Severus, now is my chance to do what I should have done all those years ago – fight for him."

Harry cleared his throat and announced in a small but determined voice, "I never knew my father, or my mother – Voldemort saw to that," he raised his eyes to meet Remus's. "But I do know Snape. He's been evil to me over the years, but somehow, he has always been there when he needed to be, at times when I needed someone to be there – it was him. I don't know Remus, I don't understand the why's or how's, but I feel like I owe him too, you know?"

Remus returned his grim smile and nodded his understanding.

"Yes Harry, I know."

Harry rose to his feet and gestured to the potion, "Are you going to drink that?"

"Once I know Severus is recovering, yes. Once he has his life back, I will start living mine afresh. Until then, we fight on as we are."

Harry gave him a warm smile, "I'm going to miss that wolfish grin of yours, you know."

There was a loud crash as the portrait door smashed into the wall and a panicked Pansy Parkinson burst into the Slytherin common room, face flushed and chest heaving as she frantically scanned the room. Finally spotting Draco Malfoy's pale face amongst the shocked sea of students who had whirled in her direction following her dramatic entrance, she raced over to him and dragged him forcibly into the dormitory stairwell.

"Woah, easy tiger!" he laughed, leaning forward to kiss her when she jerked out of his way and his lips skimmed her cheek instead. He snarled in anger and pushed her back hard against the stone, "You dare tease –" he froze when he saw her expression, "Pansy? What is it?"

Tears leaked silently from her eyes as she stood frozen in his grip, pressed hard against the unyielding stone, their faces just inches apart. She looked into his eyes and tried to find her voice.

"Draco, it's Professor Snape – he, he's been badly injured. They don't think he will make it," she gasped as Draco suddenly released her and lurched backwards, shock briefly flitting over his features before being replaced by a scornful sneer.

"You must be mistaken! My Godfather is one of the most powerful wizards I know, he sits on the right hand of the Dark Lord, for fuck's sake! You've seen him duel, the man is practically a shadow – it isn't possible!" he spat, his eyes narrowing to two dark slits. Pansy trembled before him, sobs openly wracking her small frame as she forced out the words.

"Dumbledore set him up Draco, he sent him to the Shrieking Shack – there was a werewolf inside and, and – I was in the Infirmary helping myself to some pepper-up potion when they brought him in," she choked, "and the blood – Draco, he was completely torn up! It was horrific!" Too distressed to continue, she surrendered to the grief coursing through her and slumped to the floor in a tangle of robes. Draco stared at her in disbelief for a long moment before stumbling away from her, towards the fireplace. As he staggered towards the floo, surprised faces turned to his waxen face and then to the hysterically sobbing Pansy slumped in the stairwell and came to the conclusion it was another of their infamous fights. It wasn't until Draco thrust his hand into the bowl of floo powder and threw it into the flames that they realised something was amiss.

"Malfoy Manor!" he gasped before striding forward into the green flame and disappearing from the room.

Seconds later he stumbled from the marble fireplace that dominated the ballroom of his family's vast manor, tripped on the hem of his robes and fell flat on his face. As he scrambled to his feet he heard the unmistakeable cackle of his mad Aunt Bella and a slow, steady, mocking clap that chilled him to the core. If anyone deserved to languish in Azkaban, it was her.

"Quite an entrance Draco!" squealed Bellatrix as she twirled her way across the room to greet him. He flinched at the sudden invasion of his personal space as she thrust her face into his and crushed him in a hug before shoving him backwards and dancing away from him, laughing madly.

"Draco, please join us," came a cold, clear voice. Sweet Merlin – Voldemort. He suddenly became painfully aware of the number of people in the room, the pitch black cloaks, the silver masks and the throne at the centre of the room where the Dark Lord sat. He had just blundered his way into an audience with Voldemort. Fuck. He looked around the room and caught the frozen face of his father and judging by the contorted look on his face, he was barely hiding his mortification at his only son's spectacularly embarrassing arrival. His mother simply looked terrified. He snapped his attention to Voldemort and immediately dropped to his knees in supplication.

"My Lord," he stuttered, his voice quavering.

There was a rustle of silken robes and from his position he could sense movement nearby, before a cold, waxen hand grasped his chin and forced his head up. His eyes met the crimson red slits of the Dark Lord and it took every ounce of control not to flinch away from his cadaverous grip. The red irises searched his face rapidly and Draco felt a short, sharp stab of pain in his mind as Voldemort rifled through his memories. Suddenly the contact was broken and the Dark Lord rose abruptly, something akin to concern etched on his face. He withdrew his wand from the sleeve of his robes and touched it to the Dark Mark on his left arm. After a long moment, he frowned and prodded the mark again. He snarled in frustration.

"I call him, but he does not come. Where is Severus?" he questioned, looking about himself and around the room. There was a flurry of movement and a rustle of robes as the gathered Death Eaters looked within their ranks. There was a long moment of silence, before Lucius shakily addressed his Lord.

"He is not here, my Lord," he offered, bowing low as he did so.

For a long moment Voldemort stared at the bowed blonde head before he hissed and whirled around angrily and marched back to his throne.

"Enough of your grovelling Lucius, be useful and find him. Your boy," he raised a pale finger and thrust it in Draco's direction, "bears the most displeasing of news. He tells me that Severus has been mortally wounded and at this moment, lies in the twilight between life and death. If I were you Lucius, I would be fervently praying that he is wrong. My Potions Master, my Shadow, is most important to me and yet," he indicated the gathered Death Eaters around him, "you stand idly by when I have told you to FIND HIM!" With an explosion of uncontrolled rage he sent out a wandless wave of pure energy that knocked them to the ground like skittles.

"FIND HIM AND BRING HIM TO ME!" he screamed.