You guys are lucky I realized I'd forgotten to write anything up here. I opened it up to put it in and realized almost all of part 18 was missing. I knew the whole thing seemed a bit short, but didn't think anything of it.

Part 18/?

Connor watched Harry pick at his lunch. Things had gotten worrisome in the past week. Something had caused the boy to come striding into the Great Hall as if he expected Voldemort to be there. He had even looked more dangerous than the two Slytherins flanking him. Since then, the black-haired boy seemed to be avoiding people. He'd been snappish for several days, but that had ended quickly. As far as Connor had been able to tell, he had stopped going back to his dorm after classes were over, and wasn't sleeping there anymore. He had also spoken to him, in his role as DADA Professor, about dropping the practicals and dueling. He had said he would need to either simply be graded on the bookwork, maybe with some extra credit work, or he would have to drop the class altogether. He did not want Harry to do that, since he would lose the little time he could study him without anyone being the wiser, so Connor had effectively been forced to agree. The fact that Harry would not explain *why* he had to stop dueling was simply another problem.

Then, of course, there was the fact that Harry had quit quidditch. From all reports, the boy absolutely loved the sport. For him to suddenly stop playing, with again, no reason given, was yet another indication that something was wrong.

Connor worked harder at trying to get the young Gryffindor alone for a talk, but it was proving completely impossible. He had also noticed Dumbledore trying to speak to the boy, only to have Professor Snape maneuvering them so that it never happened.

The next day added the crowning moment to his unease. Harry walked into the DADA room with a bruise forming on his cheekbone and blackening his eye.

"What happened?" Connor asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry said ruefully. "I ran into a door."

The Defense professor glared at him.

"What?" Harry asked. "I did!"

"Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey, just in case," Connor suggested.

He was surprised and very unhappy to see a flash of fear crossing Harry's face at that suggestion. Why would the young man be scared of going to the mediwitch? Unless that bruise was not the only one, and he was afraid that she would find the others. *Really*, a door? Was there a more cliched excuse?

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine," Harry told him. His eyes were suddenly dark, and held a warning the half-Sidhe found himself heeding.

The auburn-haired professor backed off, but made sure he was listening as Harry's friends walked in and saw him.

"Harry!" Ron hissed. "What happened?"

"I ran into a door," Harry told them, the same as he'd spoken before.

"Let me guess, the door's name was Goyle?" Neville said as he settled behind his friend.

"No," Harry groaned. "The door's name was just 'door'. I was half asleep and really had to go to the bathroom. The good news is, the door kept me from hitting the floor, the bad news is, the doorknob wasn't watching where I was going."

"Are you going to see the mediwitch?" Hermione asked.

"There's no need. I'll just get a bruise balm from Dad," he hissed back.

"If you're sure," she frowned.

"Yes, I'm sure," he answered, turning back to the front of the class.

Connor sighed, now the boy was lying to his friends as well.

Still, perhaps all these things together would not have been enough for him to act. There was still no actual proof. Then, the newspaper came. The teachers always received their copies before the students, so they would be the first ones to read the headlines.

'BOY-WHO-LIVES HAVING CHILD!'

'Inside sources at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have confirmed that Harry Potter, currently Harry Snape, is pregnant. The identity of the other father is unknown at this time. There are fears that this unexpected child might herald the return of the Dark Lord. It has been nine months since the Dark Lord's demise and the possibility is there that one of his followers forced this upon our savior. According to our research, there is a potion that could do that, although it would have to be created by a Potions Master. This brings into question why, exactly, the Hogwarts Professor adopted the young boy. The good news is that if this method was used, there is a chance that our young savior was not violated, something we all hope and pray is true.'

Connor's eyes were wide and anguished as he read the article. No! He was supposed to protect Harry! He moved as quickly as he could without bringing undue attention to himself, heading upward to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore was waiting for him.

"Does this be true?" Connor asked, throwing the paper down on the desk in front of him.

"Harry is pregnant; that's true," Dumbledore answered after perusing the article. "He's refused to say who the father is, but it is not possible for it to be a student from this school. Nor is it possible for him to have gotten pregnant without help."

Connor O'Feahr considered all he had been told and nodded once. There was one spell that could tell him everything he needed to know, and he was going to use it, no matter what. With determination in every stride, he headed down and waited in the corridor outside the Great Hall. It was almost ten minutes before Harry was seen, his Slytherin friends heading towards him.

"Mr. Snape, I would be talkin' to ye. The rest of ye, get on to breakfast." he ordered.

"Professor," Draco stepped forward.

"I do not wish to be discussin' this with ye," Connor didn't even look at him. "Get into the Hall before I be takin' House points."

"Go on," Harry told them. "I'll be fine." His hand reached up and touched a small lump around his shoulder, reminding them of the defender he carried with him.

Reluctantly, they left him there, heading into the Hall with many backward looks. Draco immediately strode towards his Head of House, determined to tell him what had happened.

Connor quickly placed his hand on the top of Harry's head and whispered a spell. Harry glared at him, then looked down as he felt himself begin to glow. His eyes got wide.

The Tuatha de Danaan looked at the one he was touching and felt himself go pale. The spell showed any injuries the body had ever borne. The boy's body was completely covered with the shadows of injuries gone before. Welts and bruises and broken bones, a mute testimony to years of abuse.

That was it, the final proof necessary.

Before Harry could do more than comprehend what had happened, Connor had whispered a spell and Harry felt himself becoming unconscious.

When Severus ran out into the corridor mere moments later, all he found was a sleeping Alaspinian minidrag curled upon the stone. Of Harry and the Professor, there was no sign.

Part 19/?

Harry awoke slowly. He stretched across the coolness of the silk sheets under him. Suddenly, his mind caught up with his body and his eyes flashed open. He looked around as well as he could without his glasses. Nothing he saw looked at all familiar. The room he was in was round, but too small to be a tower room. It was also extravagant far beyond even Salazar's rooms or the most ostentatious of those at his husband's Manor.

Harry concentrated and called his glasses. They landed on his hand as expected, but something felt very wrong. He placed his glasses on his face absently. His mind was almost entirely taken with trying to figure out what felt wrong in what he had just done. A small part of him, however, was in 'enemy territory' mode, keeping watch on the room around him.

Finally he realized what it was. The magic felt different here. He tried to draw it within him, but was unable to. It wasn't that something was blocking him, but that the magic just wasn't compatible with him. Where was he? There should have been nowhere on Earth that the magic was this different from what he'd lived with all his life.

Not being able to draw magic? Why was this important? He tried to think about it as he explored the room in which he'd found himself. His first thought, that of extreme wealth, was borne out now that he could see. It seemed as if every piece of wood was heavily carved, while all metal was gilded and bejewelled. The floor was covered with luxurious furs, while the bedclothes were the richest of silks and satins.

He found his robe, laid carefully across one of the chairs. He first pulled out his flask, happy to find it was still almost completely full. His flask! The baby! Didn't Madam Faire say that both the baby and his body *needed* magic. What if he couldn't pull it in? Would that be dangerous to either of them? With that thought, he searched through his robe again, worried now. With a sound that was almost a sob, he found the two emblem portkeys he carried with him everywhere. He brought the one to the Manor up to his chest and activated it.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. Still nothing.

He grabbed the other one, the one that would lead to Salazar Slytherin's sitting room and activated it. Or tried to. Nothing. No sensation of a hook grabbing onto his stomach and pulling him away from wherever he was. No feel of magic was coming from them at all.

He looked down at his ring and realized there was no feeling of magic coming from it either. He found himself praying that it was just the different magic that was making them not work, and that these precious things had not been drained of all of their magic.

He picked up his flask and took a drink, before pulling back and looking at it in shock. It was still warm. A quick check showed the warming charm on it was still working. But why would it work and not the portkeys? He picked up one of the sigils and tried again, concentrating fiercely. Finally he put it down. He understood now.

The magic of the items were fine. However, all three of them worked through their connections. The emblem portkeys needed their connection to the places they would take you. The ring needed a connection to his husband's ring. Those connections had been severed or perhaps were simply not possible at this moment. If he could get out of wherever he was, away from whatever made the magic different, they would probably begin to work once more. He could hope anyway.

So, if he couldn't leave this place the easy way, he'd have to do it the more difficult way. And that required first getting out of this room. There were several places where curtains and tapestries covered the walls. He hadn't taken the time to investigate them yet; his robe and what was in it being much more interesting at the time.

The tapestries turned out to be obvious once you knew what was behind them. The only one with people, beautiful forms dressed in beautiful clothes, led to a combination closet and dressing room. The one with the dazzling waterfall cascading endlessly into a clear blue lake led to a richly appointed bathroom. The one with a path meandering through fairy-tale like woods led to a locked door. Harry was sure the way out was through that door, but an 'alohamora', even with his wand, didn't work. Again, whether it was the difference in the magic, or the door had been charmed against it, he didn't know.

The curtains over the windows could be easily pulled back, to show a landscape every bit as unbelievable and mythically beautiful as that of the tapestries. Trees with silver trunks and leaves of emerald glistened in the sun. The grass was a brilliant green such as he'd never truly seen in nature. Animals, familiar, yet infinitely more graceful, flitted through the trees and grass.

And headed towards him was a small figure.

As the figure came closer, he could see more details. It was a girl about his own age. She had long, luxurious golden blond hair cascading down her back. She was wearing a dress that from this distance seemed like the dresses you saw fairy princesses wearing, in those fairy tale books he only occasionally saw. He spared a thought towards where he could get a dress like that. He knew immediately when she noticed him watching. She beamed a welcoming smile at him as she waved, not seeming to care that she received nothing but a glare in return.

Moments later, the door opened and she walked in. She completely ignored the wand pointing at her face.

"Where am I?" Harry snarled. "And how do I get out of here?"

"Why would you wish to leave?" she asked sweetly, tilting her head. "I am Ehlana, foster daughter of Aine. Welcome to Underhill."

"The home of the Tuatha de Danaan," Harry answered, trying to prove he knew at least part of what she was speaking of. "Look, Lana, or whatever your name is, all I want to know is how to get out of here. And if you'd care to tell me where Professor O'Feahr is, I'd appreciate it. I have something I need to *talk* to him about." His tone made it abundantly clear that he would enjoy that talk, though the teacher probably wouldn't.

"Why would you wish to go back?" Ehlana asked in confusion. "Underhill is the most beautiful place in any world. And you're safe here. As for Connor, he has gone to get my mother, who's a... doctor, to look at you."

"Safe?" Harry barely kept himself from screaming. "I was kidnapped!"

"Harry," she said softly. "We know."

"Know what?" Harry snarled.

"If you know anything about the Tuatha de Danaan, surely you've heard of their affinity with abused children. I, myself, was one of the rescued ones. Connor couldn't leave a child behind to be harmed any longer."

"That'd be all well and good five or even ten years ago," Harry growled, getting an inkling of what was going on. "However, currently I'm neither abused, nor a child. So why am I here?"

"I understand," she said compassionately. "Many people don't really realize how bad it is. They feel they deserve what has happened, that they were bad. That's not true." She moved toward him. "Give us some time, you'll understand, I promise."

Harry glared, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled up his leg and took off his shoe and sock. He turned his foot so the girl could see the scar that tore through the ball of his foot for almost two inches. "My cousin threw a glass at me and then said I had dropped it. I was made to clean it up, and had to walk through the glass to do so. I not only got punished for breaking the glass, but for getting blood on the kitchen floor. This got infected and I couldn't walk on it for a couple weeks. I was beaten for not being able to do my chores and didn't get to eat for almost that whole time. I was six. I know what it means to be abused, trust me, I do. I also know I'm away from them and will never be going back. So explain to me why, after being abused from the time I was fifteen months old, I've been kidnapped away to *here* now that I'm free."

Ehlana looked compassionate. "I'm so sorry we didn't get you away from those people earlier," she murmured. "But what your new father did was just as bad, if not even worse!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry glared at that insult to Severus. "He's never laid a hand on me!"

"We know," she said softly.

"Know what?" he growled.

"About your child. He had no right to force you to bear..." she was interrupted.

"What?" Harry screeched. "You think Severus... Eeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww! That's my *father*!"

Ehlana blinked. "You mean... he's not?"

"Not even!" Harry shuddered. "How could you think..." he shook his head.

"But then... who?"

"I don't see that it's any of your business," Harry said haughtily. "But it's my husband," he held up his hand to show off the ring that was suddenly obvious on his hand.

Ehlana looked a little pale, and almost collapsed into a nearby chair. "But... I don't understand. Connor said... he was so sure... Dumbledore said..." she babbled.

"Well, there's your answer right there," Harry said angrily. "Dumbledore."

"I thought... isn't Dumbledore a great hero of your world?"

"So he makes everyone think. He's a manipulative, scheming old bastard who will do anything to make sure no one is more powerful or better thought of than him." Harry snarled. "And he will be going down, soon."

"What did he do?"

"He tried to kill my baby," Harry's eyes burned at the remembrance. The past week had not lowered his rage at all.

"He did what?" At that moment, Ehlana looked every bit as angry as Harry himself did. She wondered what would happen when the true Sidhe found out about this. If he was telling the truth, not only had Dumbledore used the Tuatha de Danaan against a child, but had tried to kill that child's child. Regardless of what Harry thought about how adult he was, she knew they would still consider him a child. After all, they still considered her one.

No, they would definitely not be pleased.

Part 20/?

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts.

The way Severus and Draco strode into the Great Hall reminded the students of what had happened a week ago. They had the exact same expressions on their face, and the same determination in their body language.

"Where is he?" Severus growled. Deja vu, except this time he was speaking *to* Dumbledore, not of him.

"Where is who?" Dumbledore asked composedly.

Severus' snarl would have not sounded out of place coming from a giant jungle cat, and people were drawing back from him in fear. "Where... Is... My... Son? O'Feahr stopped him in the hall to talk, and now both of them are missing. And *don't* try to tell me they went off for a private conversation." He held up the still unconscious Flick. "Harry would never have left her behind."

"If you're so sure something has happened," Dumbledore said compassionately, "we'll organize a search."

Severus just stared at him. "I'll do it myself," he said in a low growl.

"Perhaps it is better this way," McGonagall spoke up.

"What are you talking about?" Severus hissed.

She handed him the paper with a stern and disapproving look upon her face. He read it over quickly, and scowled terribly. "And you *believe* this trash?" he snapped. "I would never touch my son. Nor have I anything to do with his pregnancy."

"So he is pregnant?" she asked, still disapproving, though it wasn't as much towards him as it had been.

"He's also married," Snape admitted. "Although, thanks to the rules of this school, it was only a Promise Ceremony."

"It was a beautiful ceremony, though," Hermione said, happily smiling at the memory.

"That has nothing to do with Harry being missing," Severus sternly reminded them. Leaving flabbergasted teachers behind him, he spun to face the assembled students.

"Weasley, check the map." Ron nodded and quickly ran out of the room towards Gryffindor tower, where the Marauder's Map still resided within Harry's trunk.

"Granger, you've been studying the Tuatha de Danaan; find me the nearest place he might have been taken."

Hermione nodded her understanding, but had a problem. "Sir, I'll need to get to the books in the room."

That didn't mean anything to almost anyone else in the Hall, but it did to the Potions Professor. "Spitfire," he ordered. The Alaspinian minidrag stuck his head out from Severus' sleeve, where he'd moved to be closer to his mate; Flick was still resting in the Potion Master's arms. "Go open the room for her." Severus commanded. Spitfire would have liked to argue, but he understood enough of what was going on to know they were trying to find his mate's bonded. He flew over to Hermione and landed on her shoulder. She immediately started running to the dungeons.

"Malfoy," Severus looked at the boy next to him, and Draco knew what he was to do. He followed after Hermione. "And tell him to bring Salazar! We need to talk to the minidrags." Severus called after him.

"Yes, sir!" Draco called back over his shoulder.

"Scarborough, I want your grandmother here just in case. If she gets here in the next ten minutes, Granger can bring her up." Thyme was the next one racing out the door, headed up towards the owlry.

"Zabini," he turned to look at the exotic looking Slytherin.

Like Draco before him, Blaise didn't need orders. A quick gesture from him brought three other people to their feet, one from each House; together they started to organize their Houses, something they had trained for in case Voldemort attacked. Most of the teachers had no idea just how well prepared they were. They were learning now.

"Longbottom, you're with me."

Neville's face showed trepidation for only a moment, before it firmed up with utter determination. Somehow Severus knew that there would be no more hesitation or worry. The Gryffindor would do what had to be done.

More than anything else that had happened that day, perhaps even all that year, the most confusing, confounding and 'Oh, my God, the World is Going to End!' thing the students had ever seen, was Snape and Longbottom striding out the door, side by side.

Of course, that's because they didn't see what happened next in a deserted classroom nearby. Severus dropped to his knees in front of his most bumbling student. If they'd had more time, if the circumstances hadn't been so dire, it never would have happened that way. Another way would have been found. However, there needed to be no extraneous items around, especially anything that might have held other magic. The clothes they were wearing was one thing, they *belonged* and wouldn't interfere. Other things could have obstructed his efforts, and Longbottom would need all of his magic, and only *his* magic, for this to possibly work.

He took a deep breath and bent forward until his forehead was pressed against his professor's. His hands reached up, pressing into the greasy hair, holding the scalp still. Technically, aura magic didn't need words, but they could help to focus concentration, and Neville needed all the help he could get. Neville began to whisper. "Dumbledore is not too powerful to fight, you can break his compulsion. Dumbledore is not too powerful to fight, you can break his compulsion." Over and over he whispered it, pouring all of his magic, all of his will towards that one thought. Dumbledore was not too powerful to fight, Professor Snape could break the compulsion. That was the only thought in his mind, the only wish in his heart.

Severus could feel the magic swirling around him and welcomed it into him. More and more he pulled, pushing it towards the compulsion he could *almost* feel.

Neville was swaying. He was coming to the end of his reserves, but refused to give up.

Suddenly Severus felt it. It felt as though a rubber band had snapped within his mind. Immediately, he broke away from Neville's magic, reaching up to shake him out of his zone. He could feel how low the Gryffindor's magic had gotten, and shook his head in disbelief. That he would go that far for a professor he didn't even like...

Neville looked into the black-haired man's eyes and smiled tiredly as he came out of his trance. He slowly collapsed into the man's arms, unable to hold himself up any longer. "Did it work?" he murmured.

"Yes, Neville, it worked," Severus said, for once using the young man's first name. Neville gave a sweet smile and then his eyes dropped closed.

Severus checked him over quickly, finding that he was just asleep. Severus pulled his wand out and enervated him. He would have liked to have let him sleep, but there simply wasn't the time, and an unused classroom was not the best place to nap.

Neville woke up and blanched. He was laying in Snape's arms! He quickly jumped up, babbling apologies. Severus just sighed and shook his head. "Thank you, Longbottom," he said, cutting through Neville's uncomprehensible prattle.

Neville calmed down, remembering what had happened. "You're welcome," he spoke quietly, yet with dawning pride. He knew he had succeeded. .

The Slytherin and Gryffindor headed back to the Great Hall. They reached it just in time to see the doors blow open. The Minister of Magic, Lucius Malfoy, entered the room, surrounded and followed by over a dozen aurors and several reporters.

"Dumbledore!" He roared.

"Minister," Dumbledore had risen to his feet. "I don't believe this concerns you."

"Harry Snape is missing from this school, kidnapped by one of your teachers, and you say it isn't my business?" Lucius' voice was dangerously soft, but easily heard thanks to the deathly hush surrounding them.

"He will be found," Dumbledore promised. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Yes, he will be," Lucius snarled. "Because you will tell me where he's been taken, so we can go and get him."

"Minister," Dumbledore began.

"I'll ask you only one time," Lucius purred. "Where... Is... My... Husband?"

The silence was total.