Co-Written with stormypup

Disclaimer: A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

A/N: This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills. Also, this is the start of the first chapter no longer based on canon directly so (crosses fingers)

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last two chapters and because of that I am updating with two chapters tonight. Yup, that's right. You get chapters three and four! Three is really short compared to others as well which is the other reason why.

Chapter Three

Despite the fact that he was beyond exhausted, Severus Snape held his wand at the ready as he turned the doorknob to Number 7 Eremite Lane. The wards seemed to be undisturbed, but he was taking no chances, certainly not now.

Snape stepped into the small cottage and quietly closed the door behind him. He stilled, listening to the silence a moment before calling out, "Draco!"

A moment later, Draco Malfoy's head peeked around the corner before darting out of sight once again. "Password," Draco ordered, though the tremor in his voice was unmistakable.

"Echis carinatus," Snape replied, glad to see the boy wasn't a complete imbecile and had asked the password before allowing him inside completely unchallenged.

Draco entered the room now, his eyes darting around a bit maniacally. "What happened?" Draco asked anxiously, as Snape went to the sideboard and poured himself a small glass of whiskey. He would have liked to down the whole bottle, but he had to remain alert.

"The Dark Lord has ordered that you be brought to him immediately," Snape said, tossing back the whiskey. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the pleasant burn in his throat.

"Please don't take me," Draco said, terrified.

Snape whirled on him. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. He was in no mood for hysterics, least of all from Draco Malfoy. Had the boy come to him and told him what was going on, they could have found another way, but now it was far too late for that.

"He believes you to be on the run and I encouraged that belief," Snape hissed. "Do not leave this house and do not contact anyone. Are we clear on that, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco ran his hands through his hair. "My mother --"

"Your mother knows I will protect you!" Snape said, cutting him off. "She is the least of your worries," Snape growled. "And if you think to contact your Aunt Bellatrix, you will find yourself on your knees before the Dark Lord before you can blink," he warned darkly. "She was particularly rabid tonight."

Snape paced the floor of the small room, his hand clenched reflexively around his wand. At the moment, he was the Dark Lord's most 'loyal and trusted' servant. He was the exact position Dumbledore had wished him to be.

Dumbledore.

"Professor?" Draco asked and Snape turned to him, scowling.

"Ask me no more questions tonight, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said irritably. "For now, you are safe and I need to think."

"But --"

"Enough!" Snape shouted, pointing his wand at Draco. "Not another word," he hissed, his temper rising again.

Draco stepped back, looking scared. "Go to bed, Draco," Snape said tiredly, lowering his wand.

Draco seemed to collect himself, standing up straighter. "Good night then, Professor," he said, and with a nod, took himself off to the smaller bedroom.

Snape waited until he heard the sound of the door closing before allowing himself to collapse on the couch.

Dumbledore was dead. He had killed him. Snape buried his face in his hands.

Potter had certainly told all and sundry that he had murdered Albus in cold blood. No doubt he was now at the top of the list of the Ministry Aurors, second only to Voldemort himself. If the boy was foolish enough to tell the Order the truth...

"Damn you, Albus," Snape muttered angrily.

Snape thought back to the day he returned to Dumbledore, full of remorse and self-loathing, seeking redemption. Snape couldn't help but wonder. Was redemption worth all of this?

Albus had assured him that in the end, the evidence of Snape's loyalty would be delivered to the Ministry. That should he survive the war, he would not spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, or worse, at the receiving end of a Dementor's kiss.

Snape knew the realities of life, and laid no hope in Dumbledore's plan for his acquittal should he ever to go trial. No doubt the contents of Dumbledore's penseive will be called fabrications, the papers Dumbledore had left, forgeries. The brat who lived would no doubt renounce him as a cold-blooded murdered, despite any evidence to the contrary.

If Potter lived.

Snape got to his feet and began pacing the room in agitation once more. If the idiot boy got himself killed after everything that had been sacrificed to keep him alive, Snape would hunt down his soul and kill him again just out of spite. How many times had he been forced to save Potter's life in the last six years? If he were to die now, when they were so close to the end...

No, that was unacceptable. Snape would continue in his role as guardian and he would keep Potter alive. The boy would destroy the Dark Lord and Snape would be free of him.

Free of both of them.

Death was a freedom in itself, was it not? Perhaps that was the answer. If Potter were to fail, and the Dark Lord were to rise to full power once again, perhaps Snape would take the coward's way out. Drink a potion and be done with it.

And if Potter did succeed? Perhaps he would take the coward's way out. Drink a potion and be done with it.

Either way, Snape would finally have the freedom he had longed for these many years. A slave to no master, nor a prisoner of the fools at the Ministry.

But Severus Snape was no coward. He was a survivor and he would survive this as well. Potter would win, and Snape would disappear. Go live amongst the muggles in Russia, or America. He would do what it took to survive.

But first, he had to ensure that Potter survived.

Snape thought of the stack of parchment, hidden away in a secret compartment in his room down the hall. It was copies of all the information he and Dumbledore had been able to piece together about the missing Horcrux.

The Dark Lord had sent him into hiding, telling Snape that he would call for him soon. He knew they had very little time to find the remaining bits of Voldemort's soul, but he would find them and he would destroy them, as Dumbledore asked.

He couldn't help but wonder what else Dumbledore had told Potter when Snape had left the room. All Snape knew was that Albus intended for him to help Potter as much as he could while still keeping himself safe. Snape had to be at the Dark Lord's side during the final confrontation. He would do everything in his power to help Potter when the moment came.

Snape had given Potter the address to his current location, but had not yet given him the name of the village where the cottage was located. He was still unsure of whether or not he ever would. The cottage was protected under the Fidelis Charm, so he had no fear Potter would tell anyone else of its location. But, until he had a better understanding of the situation, he would keep his head down and go about searching for the Horcrux on his own.

His exhaustion finally beginning to overwhelm him, Snape walked slowly to his room. He removed his outer robes and his shoes before collapsing onto his bed.

By the time he awoke in the morning, the tears he had shed in his sleep would be gone, his pillow dry. Severus Snape had no time for grief. Not yet.

A/N: Carry on to chapter four!

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