A/N: As you will soon notice, I'm breaking canon a bit by deciding to keep Snape as the Potions professor throughout the trio's sixth year. Since the story is currently set at the very end of that school year, this change will not make a big impact on the plot, but it helps me tweak some things better. I just wanted to let you know so that you don't get confused with the timeline.

Also, sorry about the mayor delay between updates. That should be fixed now, more info is on my profile page.

Severus Snape was lying on his bed in the semi-darkness of his bedroom.

For the sake of precision; the room was a seamlessly conjoined bedroom, library and living area - and a surprisingly beautiful and comfortable one, considering whom it belonged to, since anyone who spent more than a minute in the Potions Master's presence would probably imagine that he lived in a cave or a den, with everything covered in green fungi.

Lying flat on his back, he had been staring at the ceiling for over twenty minutes now. With his hands joined on his chest and only the occasional blink of his eyes, he gave a rather good impression of being a dead man.

It was an exceptionally rainy night with the thunder rolling more and more frequently and it fitted his mood very much, since his mind, in the opposition to the stillness of his body, wreaked like a storm.

To be put simply, he felt as if he had hit a brick wall with his face whilst moving at a very high velocity.

During the course of the thirty nine years he has walked the Earth he had known some very hard times.

From his parents' untimely death to the murder of the woman he loved (which he had indirectly caused, much to his own horror), combined with the horrors he had to witness (and sometimes commit) in the service of Lord Voldemort, one would imagine that by now he would be immune to stress (or at least – to very high levels of it).

One would not imagine, however, that the exact opposite of it would be happening to him now; from the moment his eyes opened at the crack of dawn to the moment when sleep overtook him in the late hours of the evening, Severus Snape felt like he was suffocating.

The inevitable storm that had been brewing for two years now was finally about to hit, he knew that much. Something that had been 'a matter of years' had become 'a matter of months, possibly weeks' and he noticed it too late, preoccupied as he was with trying to heal Dumbledore's injury (which would most likely prove to be fatal), trying to help Draco and trying to protect the Golden Trio.

Trying.

Trying his hardest.

And not succeeding at all.

His life had, for the first time ever, come to a standstill.

Apart from the Potions curriculum he was teaching the children, nothing that he was doing, no matter how great his effort and dedication were, seemed to be producing results.

Draco was avoiding him as if he was the embodiment of a medieval plague and was never far from screaming curses at him on the rare occasions when he managed to corner him alone. The fact that Potter was up to something was clear from the obvious weight loss and bags under his eyes suggesting a chronic lack of sleep.

And Albus' life expectance was still two to three months.

Considering all the circumstances, the absolutely nightmarish circumstances, he found himself wishing for the more peaceful years to make a comeback. Like the year of the Triwizard Tournament. Or the year of the dirty mutt's escape from Azkaban when there were Dementors behind every corner one rounded. He would even take another Basilisk crawling through the castle pipes.

Anything was better than this.

Despite the chill of the room he lay half-naked on his bed. He had previously taken a shower, so a few beads of water still clung onto his naked chest and the only garment protecting his modesty was a slightly damp towel covering his nether regions. The Potions Master's long hair was freshly washed and unbound, half wet and spilling itself over the white bed-sheet like a river of black ink.

The silence of the room was disrupted by a barely noticeable 'pop'.

It was the sound of a house-elf Apparating into the room.

The highly paid and much cherished servants of Hogwarts were not known for having favourites among the children and staff of the castle, having so little interaction with them, but naturally there were some exceptions. The most famous one was that of Dobby the elf and his good friend Harry Potter, but there was also another one, secret to almost every inhabitant of the castle, apart from the headmaster himself.

The ancient looking she-elf that had just Apparated next to Snape's bed was a peculiar one. She was wearing a very pretty, maroon dress, which was a strange choice of garment even among the free elves; but stranger even more were her dark (but still noticeably blue) eyes that radiated an intelligence behind them that seemed to rival even the Potions Master's own.

She had come to him as inheritance after his grandparents from him mother's side of the family died. He had given her a shirt soon after meeting with her, along with the invitation from Dumbledore to become a staff member, which she had both gracefully accepted. However, she had one condition, and that was to be allowed to look after her former Master whenever the occasion called for it, which Snape accepted, not thinking anything would ever come out of it.

Later it turned out that with the dismissal of the Prince's family servant he had acquired himself a permanent personal babysitter.

As it turned out, she had loved his heartbroken grandmother very much and was asked to promise that one day when her grandson Severus inherited her, if he turned out to be a good man (that is, opposite to his father and grandfather) that she promises to take good care of him. Luckily for her, her new master turned out to be the very best of men (being very kind to her and offering to give her freedom and employment on their very first meeting, instead of kicking her to establish his authority, as many other new masters did with their house-elves), so she proceeded to work and keep her promise to her beloved mistress.

Her name was Libby and she had not been called for by the Potions Master, and the tray in her hands with tea and sandwiches was not wanted either.

"Haven't we talked about this, Libby?," he asked as he brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, "because I distinctly remember talking about this."

"We have indeed, Master, and on many occasions, but it will not stop me trying to help that wounded body of yours recover," she said and snapped her fingers - the gesture making the giant wardrobe doors on the other side of the room open wide and a set of clothes flew towards the bed and landed next to him in a perfectly organised pile, socks and underwear on top.

Another thing that was also striking about the she-elf was that her speech lacked any grammatical errors which were so common among the other house elves. The correction was the result of spending most of the evenings of her life having long conversations with her mistress who found in her a better friend and companion than she did in any of her Pureblood circle she was forced to mingle in.

Snape sighed and sat up on the bed. He started dressing himself while Libby was fussing with the dinner tray and he asked about news about Potter from Dobby.

"Oh, nothing new, Master. Tonight he snuck them an apple pie in hope of awakening the boy's appetite, but apparently the boy was not there," Libby said.

This got Snape's attention and he lifted his brows as a form of a question, but Libby quelled his fast growing worry.

"Another lesson with headmaster Dumbledore, or so it would seem," she said and he exhaled loudly as a response, thanking Merlin for another day gone by without Potter getting himself (and the rest of them as consequence) into mortal danger.

He looked at his friend after he pulled his trousers on, his chest still naked, and noticed Libby staring intently at his abdomen with a frown marring her already wrinkled face.

He knew well what she was staring at so he didn't mark upon it, wishing to avoid another sermon on malnourishment.

Magic keeps a wizards' (or witches') body strong and powerful, without any exercise required. That is, it keeps their muscles lean. Any powerful wizard, even if he was fat, would be surprisingly strong (a Muggle would even think him supernaturally strong). Severus Snape was magically stronger than most so he naturally had a very fit body, and was usually the picture of health. Lately, however, he ate much less than he was supposed to, and it was beginning to show in the form of fat loss. That was why Libby was staring at his abdomen, which was well on its way of looking like it belonged to a Muggle fitness model in a few months' time, than to a professor who spent his days with his hair hanging over a cauldron.

"Won't you eat just a little, Master?" she asked with sincere sadness in her voice, feeling more sorry than ever for him now that his cheeks have started to hollow out and the rest of him was becoming dangerously thin.

He got up from the bed, put on the rest of the clothes and went to sit on his couch in front of the coffee table where Libby had set the tray. He ate mechanically, but she was nevertheless pleased that he ate most of what she had brought him.

"Thank you, Libby," he said, adding nothing more to it, but allowing those words to speak volumes on gratefulness when he looked into her eyes.

She smiled a grandmotherly smile at him, took his tray and Apparated away.

He leaned back into the couch cushions and allowed himself ten more minutes of rest, so that his dinner may set in his stomach before going back into his personal laboratory to attempt making another potion that might help cure Dumbledore.

Every day was exactly the same, he thought, defeated.

He didn't know than in ten minutes' time there was going to be a loud banging on his door.

When Ron reached professor McGonagall's office, he was panting heavily from his lengthy sprint. He leaned his head on the door from sheer exhaustion, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead and was knocking as loud as he dared, hoping that she hadn't already retired for the night.

He would have been screwed if that was the case, not knowing where her living chambers were.

Luckily for him, despite the late hour, the professor was still correcting fifth year essays at her desk. In the near silence of the room, with only the cracks of tinder to be heard in the fireplace and the scratching of quill on paper, she had no trouble noticing the rushed footsteps headed her way. She even had enough time to put away the ink pot and get up out of her chair to await the unknown visitor standing. As the first knock came, without bothering to first ask who it was, she drew her wand and magically opened it.

That was how Ron found himself facing a slightly flustered professor McGonagall as she stood pointing her wand straight at his nose.

"Weasley," she said as her mouth drew into a thin line; thinking to herself that, of course, who else other than Potter or Granger could it have possibly been?

"What is it this time?" the professor asked in the same exasperated tone of voice she always used when she realised that her favourite Gryffindors came to her with news of trouble. She was almost certain it was actually Ron, but still remained alert without lowering her wand. Merlin knew that these days even children are able to brew a decent batch of Pollyjuice potion. If Granger could do it, she wouldn't put it past Malfoy either, so for all she knew, it could be him in front of her in the next act of his Dark mischief.

Without any thought to rank, house points or possible injury, and most importantly - indicating absolute trust, Ron moved his body to the side to avoid his face making contact with her wand and took a step further into the office. The reckless bravado while at wandpoint was enough for McGonagall to lower her wand.

Malfoy wouldn't trust her not to hex.

Ron made a beeline for her work desk and actually sat himself on it (right on the pile of freshly marked essays, certainly smearing ink with his arse), scandalising his professor in the process of it. He doubled over to his side while pressing a hand at his stomach to help relieve the pressure of nearly hyperventilating. He was not far from fainting.

"Malfoy let five Death Eaters into the castle," he said, the words leaving his mouth in such a rush that the professor almost failed to catch what he said.

McGonagall's eyes widened slightly and her left hand slowly moved to her heart; the only visible signs that she registered what he just said.

There was a short moment of silence as she stood stunned, though two thoughts in her mind formed and clashed rapidly as if they were in their own time frames, certainly lasting more than the three breaths Ron inhaled before she asked him for more information. The first was that Hogwarts was an impenetrable fortress for such persons, hence there being no secret passage Malfoy could have led them to that would have done them any good; but the second (and much more ominous one) was that they could have been let in by someone more skilled than a school boy, in case they actually were there.

Severus, the name rang in her mind as if a gong was hit and almost instantly a sharp pang of guilt struck her; punishment for traitorous doubt of her friend and colleague who has proven himself trustworthy over and over again.

But the brand was still on his arm. And that is not something one can truly take out of an equation such as this one was.

"Weasley, what are you on about?" she asked in a quiet tone of voice that indicated that she just might believe what he said, despite her natural instinct of telling him that Hogwarts' wards cannot be breached and that he was probably feverish.

Instead of speaking, since his throat felt as if it was on fire, Ron drew the Marauders Map out of his back pocket and held it high in his hand. He even gave it a little wave as so to make the parchment rustle.

He felt it was explanation enough.

He was quite correct, since Minerva McGonagall immediately knew what she was looking at.

After the Golden Trio's third year fiasco - the grand rescue of Sirius Black, the knowledge of the existence of the Marauders Map spread among the school faculty like wildfire.

It was greeted with a great amount of surprise, along with Flitwick's beaming pride for 'teaching the boys their charms-work well'. Though Harry did not know of it (since he wasn't told), Lupin's decision to return the map to him was not his alone. It was debated in an emergency faculty meeting and all of the professors, excluding Snape (whose argument was that it was only a ticket for getting them into even more trouble), agreed that it would be prudent to return the Map to its rightful owner - Harry.

They agreed that the map was his family inheritance and, after all, it had no way of doing actual harm, so they had no arguments as to why it should be kept away. Though, the very knowledge of its existence still made most of them feel a bit uneasy.

Seeing the Map was enough for any doubt in Ron's words to vanish. That map had proved its worth by exposing Peter Pettigrew and she would have been a fool to doubt it now.

"Tell me," she said and took a very deep breath to prepare herself for Ron's answer.

"They were on the third floor when I was still in our dormitory. They got through the Room of Requirement," he said.

She found out about the Room after the Dumbledore's army fiasco last year. The professor's reaction to his statement was a simple nod, a whoosh of a wand, and then a pitcher of water appeared in front of him, which he grabbed and started drinking from not a split second later. Professor McGonagall watched the red-haired boy clench his thirst, all the while thinking to herself that, yes, such an entrance into the castle indeed makes sense, even though she didn't know the mechanics behind it.

Ron watched her as she walked to the table and next to him, putting her hand on the dark wood. Her brow was furrowed when her gaze went back to the Map. She made a quick decision and without saying a word to Ron she moved her wand in a swift, fluid movement. She saw Ron take a step back with a panicked expression on his face as she shouted Expecto Patronum!

The white tabby cat formed in an instant and floated midair waiting for instructions. "Hogwarts fireplace, enemy breach" was the only message it was given. She knew who was at the Headquarters tonight and who that message would reach.

"Now, now, mister Weasley, move away from the fireplace."

As she said those words to him, much to Ron's surprise, she gripped his forearm and started dragging him away from her desk. An unwelcome memory of his hand around her waist during the dance practice for the Yule ball came back into his mind, since that was the last time he was that close to her, but it left his mind the moment he saw the red of the fire start turning green.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was livelier than it had ever been. The kitchen shone with a warm yellow light of star shaped Christmas decorations that weren't taken down during the cleanup after the holidays by a mutual decision of Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. In the air lingered a faint smell of cinnamon topping from the apple pie that was freshly baked an hour ago, but the overpowering notes in the air were the combined union of Firewhiskey and Butterbeer.

At the head of the kitchen table sat a handsome man in his mid-thirties. His silky, wavy black hair reached just to his shoulders. He was lean but noticeably well fed. On his face was the same devilish grin that made all the girls go crazy about him during his final years at Hogwarts. If a stranger turned up at number 12 Grimmauld Place at that moment and looked at Sirius Black, he would probably not believe that it was the same man that suffered twelve years under the torturous presence of the dreadful Azkaban guards. On his right side sat Remus with his wife Tonks and on his left were Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Cheers erupted every few minutes. It was only natural; they had a very good reason for their celebration.

Walburga Black's portrait had finally and permanently been removed, after almost two years of every Order member that ever came into the house trying their hardest to take it down. Even Snape gave it a go after Sirius finally managed to rile up his competitive spirit, but much to everyone's surprise, it was Tonks who succeeded in the task by altering and strengthening a Vanishing charm. She took a big chunk out of the wall as well, but Sirius didn't mind one bit.

"You know, we could use the hole if we even out the edges a bit and put a big flower vase in it, or something similar. It would lift up the living room immensely," said Molly cheerfully, already deciding what flowers she should pick from her garden.

"Great idea Molly," said Sirius after taking a big sip of his beer, "but if we blast the hole in a bit more and add some shelves we could add another liquor cabinet to the house," he finished and started laughing while he vigorously patted his pink-haired cousin who sat next to him. Tonks' cheek colour matched her hair but at the same time she looked overjoyed. She was so glad to be useful to him for once. After all, she was the one who most often woke the old lady from her slumber and set her up for a round of screaming.

"Sirius, you have two liquor cabinets in the house already, you don't need another one," said Remus which resulted in Sirius making faces and almost sticking his tongue out.

"Well you do have a point mate, but..." said Sirius before Remus interrupted him.

"Pink and white roses would do best, I think," said Remus, ignoring Sirius and turning to Molly who gave him a radiant smile, and Sirius disappointedly tried to hide himself behind his beer. He knew he still had some growing up to do but at the same time he felt that Remus has had too much of it.

Through all the noise the happily drunken group made, there were still soft sniffling sounds to be heard at Sirius's feet. Clutching the leg of his master, whom he liked very much nowadays (thanks to Hermione, who didn't stop pestering Sirius until he gave in completely into 'being nicer to the poor old house elf', because it was the only way to get the little witch to stop pestering him whenever she had the chance, which was often and he had no way to escape her, much to the delight of Ron and Harry who quite enjoyed seeing their favourite girl pester someone other than them for a while), Kreacher cried mournfully.

After a few months of careful practice of not cursing or screaming at the elf that pretty much helped his cousins set up a murder attempt on his life, Sirius realised that Kreacher truly was a miserable creature that has never known love or affection in the Black ancestral home, much like Sirius himself - just like Hermione insisted. Pity evolved into affection after the house became cleaner than it had ever been, outshining even Mrs. Weasley's efforts, and after the elf showed remarkable cooking skills that helped Sirius not only get healthier, but ensured that he would almost always have guests for lunch or dinner, much to their mutual delight.

And after half a year, even Hermione transgressed from Filthy Mudblood to Young Miss.

"There, there, Kreacher, lighten up," said Sirius in an attempt of consoling the miserable creature at his feet as he patted his old head, knowing full well that the portrait was the only companion Kreacher had for over a decade, but he also knew that it wasn't too great of a loss for him since he barely ever spoke to the portrait in its last days. He knew Kreacher would get over it in a day or two, so he didn't worry too much.

He picked up his Butterbeer and took a sip, not taking his hand off Kreacher's shoulders.

"You know, maybe not a liquor cabinet after all," said Sirius with a thoughtful voice. His eyes acquired a very distant look.

"Oh, it's splendid that you agree," said Molly whose eyes widened as she found herself pleasantly surprised until Sirius continued, ignoring her comment.

"I think the best way to commemorate my mother would be if we set up one of those big Muggle TV's you've been obsessing over lately, Arthur," he said, nudging his beer bottle in Arthur's direction, enjoying himself as Molly gave an exasperated sigh and set everyone laughing again.

"Hermione and Harry have been telling me all about those," said Sirius with glee as he imagined the reactions the rest of the family portraits would have to the new change in the room. Phineas Nigellus would probably have a fit and refuse to enter his frame in Grimmauld place until the atrocity, as he was certain he would call it, was removed.

Drunken laughter cracked in the room again. "You should talk to my dad about that," said Tonks. "He and mum invested in a home theatre last summer. It's bloody brilliant, feels like you have your head in a Pensieve except that, well, your body is not inside it," she said as eloquently as she managed.

"Yes, brilliant idea, Tonks," said Arthur whose interest was piqued to the max, "Teddy would know all about that stuff and Sirius, I'm sure you'd let me investigate the technology when you wouldn't be using it," he added with a grin.

"You know boys, I really don't think that we should..." started Molly, but suddenly, caught by surprise in the midst of her sentence, she shrieked almost as loudly as Walburga Black used to as the white light of an unexpected Patronus appeared above the centre of the table.

Sirius and Tonks spilled their drinks in the process of jumping to their feet and Arthur sent his chair toppling over behind him. Molly and Remus froze in spot while still sitting, but had their wands out before the Patronus even finished taking shape. They all watched as the white light of the Patronus assembled itself into a medium sized tabby cat.

"Hogwarts fireplace, enemy breach," said the familiar commanding voice of their former Transfiguration professor.

'Hogwarts fireplace' they all knew was short for 'Floo in with only the command 'Hogwarts', you will be redirected to the fireplace where I am located'. The identity of the enemies who had breached the castle was obvious, but 'how' was the question that instantly formed in everyone's minds.

"Kreacher, Pepperup," shouted Sirius the instant the Patronus vanished in a puff of white smoke. With a snap of elfish fingers five red bottles of what was officially known as the cure for the common cold, but also took away drunkenness, appeared in front of every person at the table. Mrs. Weasley, who had no need for it because she only drank pumpkin juice the entire night, was first to dash for the fireplace. The redheaded lioness had cubs there that were probably in need of rescue. She grabbed a generous amount of the Floo powder and almost jumped into the kitchen fireplace and shouted out the clear commands so that the green flames would take her away.

After her disappearance, in between sips everyone walked into the fireplace and shouted their heading. Since Sirius was the house owner and was the one with the keys to the wards, he knew he had to be the last one to leave so, as he watched his friends disappear into the green flames, he turned to speak to Kreacher.

"Kreacher," he called with a serious voice. The elf jumped up on the table before him and for some unexplainable reason was holding a rather large frying pan in his small arms, looking very much battle ready. Sirius had half a mind to take him with them, but cast the thought away from his mind only a moment after it had formed.

Hermione would have him flayed if she'd find out. Besides, someone had to hold the fort.

The flames shone in the bright old eyes and he looked nothing like the mean old elf Sirius knew as a child.

"Guard the house. Do not let anyone enter our wards in my absence," he said, and realizing that Tonks was still to enter the fireplace and that he had a few more seconds, he continued. "I'll be back very soon. Try not to fuss too much," he added, smiling.

In a proud voice, as grave as his master's, Kreacher replied: "Yes, Master Black."

After hearing those words he heard the whoosh that signalled that Tonks had left, so Sirius took a step into the flames and left the Order headquarters, heading for battle.

He drank the Pepperup in one gulp as the flames were consuming him and he arrived safely into professor McGonagall's office.

Unhappily sober.

"Check the Map again, Mister Weasley. The Order will come through the Floo at any moment now."

"Yes, professor," Ron said and spread the map over her desk as McGonagall moved to stand next to him. He opened it on the page that showed the hallway in front of the Room of Requirement. There he saw the still unmoving names of Yaxley, Greyback, Gibbon and Rowle, but Malfoy and Lestrange were missing.

Where the bloody hell are they?

True to McGonagall's word, for less than ten seconds the two of them stood silent and waited for the reinforcements as they examined the Map. He wanted to ask the professor who was coming, but he had a vague mental image already. But that still didn't mean that he expected his mother to run out of the green flames of the fireplace and shoot toward him to trap him into a smothering embrace.

"Ron," she said as she put her warm hands on his cheeks and turned to professor McGonagall whilst holding her youngest son, "has anyone been injured?" Molly asked, looking possibly more alarmed than Ron had ever seen her.

"No, they haven't," McGonagall replied. "Not as far as I know of. Wait a bit," she waved with her hand slightly as if to shoo away the next question forming on Molly's mouth as she gestured towards the fireplace.

Thunder cracked in the distance at the same time as Sirius stepped onto the dark oak floor of professor McGonagall's office.

She knew he was the last to arrive. Immediately she turned to Ron.

"Mister Weasley, report," said McGonagall, sounding more secure than before as the five new Order members arrived.

Ron picked up the map again, the same way he did before as a form of explanation. Everyone present understood what the gesture meant and he also knew that, though he was the only person in the room that had actually seen the Room of Requirement, they all knew of it and its approximate location.

"We've been monitoring Draco Malfoy's movements since the school-year started. Tonight he entered the Room of Requirement alone, but when he came back out he had Yaxley, Lestrange, Greyback, Gibbon and Rowle with him," he said and then gave them a momentary pause to allow for the inevitable gasps of surprise as the new group made peace with the severity of the situation.

"They are still in front of the Room, but Malfoy and Lestrange went back into the Room and still haven't come back."

Just as he said those words the two names appeared again on the map and the Death Eater squad immediately started moving in single file, led on by Lestrange.

"No, here they are. Moving toward us," he said and the words came out almost as a whine, since he didn't know it the new development was good or bad news.

As soon as he finished professor McGonagall spoke up again, taking charge at once.

"We have no time to wait and see where they are headed, we must to intercept them. We seem to have less than two minutes. Mister Weasley," she said, turning to Ron, "I will Disillusion you. You will leave before us, turn right at the end of the hallway, get to the other side of the castle and go down to the dungeons to alert professor Snape. If you start now you will not run into any of them."

Molly Weasley immediately made a protesting gasp, but her husband put his hand on her shoulder.

"He will be running away from danger, dear. And we need Severus with us," he said in his soft, reassuring voice and Molly knew it would be silly to argue now when they had so little time.

Professor McGonagall cast the spell and suddenly he disappeared from their sight; the only thing giving him away was the slightest shimmer as he blended in with the background so well.

And so Ron started running again.

Please review and tell me what you think of the story so far!