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Harry's words hit their target. Snape looked ill and unprepared for the second time Harry had ever known him. The first time, was when he faced off with McGonagall in the Great Hall, just before escaping capture by the Ministry.

Snape's wand wavered. "That's enough. You can't afford to waste time on sentiment, and I haven't survived because affection means a damn thing to me. Say what you have to say, then leave."

Harry's relief was genuine. With every begrudging word, Snape only proved to him that he was living and breathing, and not lost to him at all. "You have no idea what it means to see you."

"It means I've put my trust in the wrong person." Even if his eyes hadn't shifted, everyone knew who he was talking about.

"Hey!" Ash took offense. He was trying to stay out of Snape's and Harry's reunion, he really was, but he'd be damned if he was gonna take a hit like that. "You locked me up. You cursed me into a fucking abyss and this kid knew the way out. You betrayed me first."

Snape didn't bother looking at him. He kept his aim and gaze upon Harry, who risked sitting up a little straighter.

"You know you can trust me, Snape. You won't use that wand against me, and whatever Ash did, you must like him a lot, to let him in on our secrets. I can't imagine what he did to get banished back there. You could've obliviated him, and instead you took him deeper into yourself. That sounds like someone with a heart, to me. You're getting soft in your old age."

"Obliviate?" Ash gasped. "What's he mean by obliviate?"

"A mistake I won't be making again. Since his survival instincts fail to see the urgency of the moment, that isn't a bad idea."

Harry's attention drew to the tip of the wand. Though his former professor spoke no extra words, the pull of the spell speared him. It latched on, like a magnet to his chest. His thoughts drifted, suddenly overcome by Snape's will. He hung on by a thread. He couldn't let it happen.

"No!" he insisted, fighting the fog. "Don't make me forget. Don't send me away. I'll be serious. I'll tell you why I had to find you. Please."

Whatever scrambled Harry's concentration, eased back. His intentions returned clearly in his mind again. It sobered him to remember what this wizard was capable of. He would have to defend himself and not rely on sentiment, just as Snape had said. With anyone else, that might've actually been dangerous. He was utterly confident that Snape wouldn't harm him, but the worst thing Snape might be able to do, was make him forget the things he needed to know.

"What's going on?" Ash sounded worried.

"I know you two have to talk, but you still have to answer for what you did to me." Ash jabbed in the air at Snape.

Did he? Snape's raised eyebrow said.

"I could've had a heart attack in that place. I could've gotten sick, starved. I don't know, you just shouldn't do all that magic shit on people who were never meant for it. How long was I in there, anyway? I have a practice to run. You didn't think about that, did you?"

Snape continued monitoring Harry's movements as he spoke to Ash. "You've been in a charmed state for three weeks. You've had no requirement for food or any other metabolic and digestive processes."

Shocked, Ash was unable to find a response to this. Harry too, was speechless.

"Leave us," Snape ordered.

Harry noticed that Ash had been edging away, trying to leave, but he couldn't seem to turn his back on them. That last order, was evidently not a tone Ash was willing to argue with. Perhaps knowing just how much he'd been at Snape's mercy, took the argument out of him. He bit his lip and stepped further into the area serving as a den. There were no walls between them and he could still see everything.

Harry caught glimpses of the cave, the lab tables and cabinets, before answering to Snape's expectant stare.

"I had to find you. I would never give you away, but I had to confirm for myself. You've every right to want to stay hidden, and I agree, it's safer that way. But you died in my arms and dammit, if I don't have to live with that, I'm not going to. You don't know what that did to me."

"Irrelevant. You survived it. What's so important that you're still bitching about it, and choosing to neglect a very obvious present, in which you are perfectly safe and free to go on with your life?"

Harry realized that Snape had relaxed the pressure of his spell. This was good, right?

Snape wasn't finished. "For everything I've done, and everything you've been through, you don't seem very appreciative of the advantages you're left with. I didn't fight my way out of hell so that you could bemoan your situation and ignore the opportunity to put the past behind you."

Harry patted his chest and leaned forward. "But the past isn't behind me. The worst night of my life, is affecting my daughter right now, in this present. Yes, I hunted you for selfish reasons, but I stayed with it because she needs you. I'm here for many reasons, but the most important one is her. I named her after you. Iece Lillian-Severus Potter. If it wasn't for you, I don't know if either of us would've survived her birth. You did so much, without being there. With what she's up against now, I know that if anyone can help, it's you. I'm not here because I'm living in the past. I'm here because my daughter needs you right now."

He saw muscles tense in the soft tissue of Snape's jaws, as if he were grinding his teeth. Then Snape played the cruelest card yet.

"Don't use your child to manipulate me. I don't care if she's sick. Her plight is entirely her own. I'm not here to save the children of the world, regardless of the lies spread about me."

Harry smirked, ready for this. "Liar. I saw you stand between Voldemort and the whole school. Between a werewolf and my friends. You cared about kids you barely knew, who hated you. You were willing to die for them. Don't bullshit me about my daughter. I know you're afraid of getting close to us, but don't act like you don't care, because it's beneath you to tell such pitiful lies. You're more intelligent than that. Tell me something I can believe."

Snape's annoyance graduated to rage as he glared at Harry. "Watch it. This isn't school and I am no longer living an oath to protect you. The teacher you remember was a fabrication. Any sentiment you have, is based on lies."

"Were you lying when you drilled Draco, relentlessly, to make sure he knew how to help Iece breathe when she was born? You took an interest in her. You know what,you've been following me for so long, I'd say you already know what's going on with her. When I think about how my body was found completely regenerated in that train wreck, I'd even go so far as to say you're obsessed with making sure she's okay. You're making sure I'm okay to take care of her. Maybe you're on it, the solution for her. Maybe you just haven't found a cure yet."

He saw Snape's expression scramble, reacting to his search for words.

"Maybe you just don't want to get my hopes up, I don't know. But you're not going to convince me that you don't care about her. That's bullshit."

Snape's wand lifted a fraction.

Harry didn't know what spell he intended, but he leapt up from the sofa to block it. Forgetting any thought of a wand, he raised his hand to block it. In that instant, the spell crystalized into visible vapor that lit up like a bright mist. For a second, it surrounded him in a form that he could feel and identify. Not only did he block the spell, but he knew exactly what it was. A harmless immobility hex, layered with a sleep charm. Snape wanted him out, not to hurt him.

"Really?" Harry asked. "You'd rather have me out cold, than say one civil word to me? How scared are you?"

With a stone face, Snape cut off his attack. Before Harry could feel relieved, a projectile of wandless magic threw him so hard into the sofa that it fell backwards. It was violent enough to prove that Snape would hurt him to make his point. But survivable enough to convince Harry that Snape was being amazingly childish and insecure at the moment. How human of him. As Harry's feet disappeared over the sofa, as his body went vaulting backwards, he saw the absurdity of it. He got up laughing, ignoring the look of horror on Ash's face.

"I get it," he brushed himself off. "You rushed to save my life so that you can prove you're willing to hurt me if I don't take you seriously. I'm sorry, you're just not that threatening to me anymore. You've taken too good care of us. You've ruined that illusion forever. What else you got?"

Calculations darkened those lit eyes, staring daggers into him. He tried to guess Snape's next move.

"Don't you dare apparate. Don't you dare run from this moment. It seems I learned a trick or two in that portrait. That's how I found you, dealing with your mother. If your own mother helped me find you, you know I deserve a moment of your time."

Harry came around the sofa. "If you can't accept how much you mean to me, if you're still playing the pariah, then at least admit that you did your best to help us once. Because you were totally invested in us. Draco and me. Our family."

Carefully, he dug into his pocket for his wallet. His eyes barely left Snape, who looked as though he was waiting for his attention to slip at any moment. Harry hoped that Snape's pride would keep him from disappearing right in front of him. He toyed with the notion of attempting a trace, should Snape vanish again, as he pulled Ice's picture from his wallet.

He thrust it out in front of him. "Look."

Snape drew up, deflecting Harry's insistence in a cold shroud of indifference. However, to Harry it looked more like recoiling from the risk of feeling emotion. In that second, Snape struck him as a Victorian prude who'd spent a life avoiding coming into contact with sticky, smelly, human shit, otherwise known as feelings. After what his father did, who could blame him for clinging to sterile objectivity? Only problem was, there was nothing objective about it at all. Pretending you couldn't feel, was just one more illusion setting you up for failure. Just deal with it.

"Look at her. She needs your help. Before you kick me out, just listen to me."

He fought down the urge to leap to an apology on his father's behalf. That wasn't going to cut it, and this was not the moment to open up that wound. Though it was fresh to him, the memory had been scabbed over for decades in Snape's mind, and it wasn't fair to cut it open again, just because it was now Harry's burden to live with. He stuck to his daughter.

"I'm begging you. Try to help her."

"What makes you think I can?"

"You don't stop until you find a way. I don't give a damn about the curse affecting me and Draco. Not anymore. We can deal with it. I think I can even change the curse on my body, and Draco has found a different way. Your mother gave me a huge clue. But I wasn't born with the curse and my daughter was, so she has a different structure. If anyone can figure this out, it's you. I'll never believe that you don't give a shit about me. So I'm gonna stay here, begging you to help her, no matter how long it takes."

He shook the picture. "Look at her. She's a perfect child, regardless of who her parents are. Now that I've seen what you looked like as a baby, she reminds me of you. I don't know why. You both have such dark eyes. It's unusual, especially for babies."

He clouded over, at the memory of seeing infant Snape on Eileen's lap. He didn't see how Snape's lips thinned at the mention of this detail. He didn't register the other's violent refusal to ask how he might've seen such a thing.

He continued, "But that's not the only color of her eyes. They change. Between her magic and the curse, her body is expressing chaotic genetic traits. Her magic explodes out of control. When her eyes turn grey, she exhibits the gender of a boy. Black, and she's a girl again. She's only two, and this curse is putting her through the wringer. We have to use drugs to suppress her magic. This curse is going to stunt her whole development if I don't find a way to cure her. Draco and I are grown. But she won't even know what it's like to be female or male, because she'll never be able to be just one. What other example does she have in the world, to teach her how to be at peace with herself? There's not a role model in existence that can help her sort that out. She'll practically be treated as if she's inhuman. For God's sake, do what you can to help her. Everything you can. Hell yes, I'm dragging you out of hiding for this. It's the only thing that's worth it."

Snape glanced down at the photo. His stillness was the only indication that it had any effect on him at all.

Harry pushed harder. "When I was eleven, you told me and everyone in class that you could bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. That little boy in your class, listened to you. He hated you, but he listened. He grew up to see you deceive one of the most infamous wizards to ever live, to see you survive your throat being slashed and mangled by a giant python. Of course I would come looking for you. You did put a stopper in death. You an expert on dark magic, you understand very complicated curses, and you're driven like no one else. If you can't save her from this terrible curse, no one can. You can turn your back on me all you want. If you really hate the sight of me, I'll let you go back to whatever dark, invisible existence you've carved out for yourself. But stay with me long enough to help her. Just give her that time. Even if I'm asking for the impossible, even if you don't think you can do it, don't you go anywhere without trying. Please, Snape."

With his body hunched as he made his appeal, Harry was one second from getting on his knees.

"Don't you dare kneel." Snape stopped him.

"I know I don't deserve her, but she's mine now. I didn't appreciate it when she was born. I said and did a lot of things that maybe I'm being punished for now. But that doesn't mean she should suffer. Now that I have her, I want her. I want her to be well and happy. I didn't mean to do this to her. I'm sorry that she had to come through me and got dealt this shitty hand. I'm sorry that I got her into this, that I'm getting you into this, but I'm not sorry for inconveniencing anyone in order to help her. I'll drag you out of hiding, out of retirement, call it whatever you want. I'll do whatever it takes."

He looked up. "She shouldn't be involved, but she is. The only thing I can do now, is protect her, and I'm not even doing that very well. She's like you. She's good to her core, but she's been touched by something terrible, that will always leave a mark. All I want to do is make sure she heals from it. I can't change the past, but I can prepare a better future for her."

There was extra pleading in the way he looked at Snape. He couldn't mention his father's vile actions, but Snape had to know what he was talking about on some level. His magic had to know, had to translate it, without offending him.

"I can't change what those horrible people did. I can't change who her father is. All I can do is try to fix what's right here and now. That's where you come in. I can't let you turn your back on her without trying. I had to find you."

Snape didn't flinch, but the bitterest injection seeped into his question, now that he was forced to ask it. He folded his arms. "And how, exactly, did you find Ash?"

"Your portrait. Well, I was introduced to your mother first."

Something went feral in Snape's stare.

"By magic. It was just magic in an old picture. Our house elf knew your mother. She worked for your grandmother, but never committed. So we hired her as a nanny. She has a lot of your grandmother's possessions."

"I know about your elf. What's all this garble about my mother? What did she tell you?"

"She encouraged me to get into your portrait at Hogworts. I went inside a picture to talk to her. She was holding you, when you were just a baby. I can't believe I got to see that. I played with you."

"Why would she help you? She never knew you, and she hasn't so much as reached out to me since her death."

"I don't know, because I was begging for help, from anyone. Have you ever reached out to her, asked her for help? She has a wild way about her, but she assisted me this whole time. Once I got inside, she turned up again. She taught me a number of things. She says, me, you, and other people we know, are all part of some really old coven."

Suspicion crinkled Snape's expression. Harry saw that this detail was off-putting to him.

"Can you believe it? She swears we all initiated as women. It's crazy, but having this curse kind of makes me feel like it's all part of some injustice that I can't outrun. How else could something this unnatural touch me? Even if I die, it'll find me. Just like it has. Maybe as a man, I've done terrible things to women, I don't know. Maybe that's how we end up in the club, in the first place. All assholes have to live in the shoes of their victims. Wow, I must've been a real jerk, not to have escaped this fate. You gotta admit, we've all been dicks."

You're being one right now, Harry wanted to say. But Snape appeared to be listening to him without such a firm stance of defense. His crossed arms were not as rigid, though he now looked like he'd swallowed something indigestible.
Harry warmed to the moment, to the idea of softening his voice to casual conversation, as long as Snape let him pretend that was happening. He could see that his few words had given Snape a lot to consider, whether he would admit it or not. Evidently, he hadn't considered his deceased mother coming to the party.

"Anyway, I think, because you're still alive, the portrait is connected to you physically, emotionally. The deeper I went into it, the more things turned from painted symbols to memories and magic that took on lives of their own."

Here, Harry chose his words carefully. "It was an invasion of your privacy, and I'm sorry, but I ignored everything I could and kept looking for your painted image. I got attacked by a teenage Death Eater. You're mom had to save me. You might say I had a support system."

He reached for his talisman, fiddled with it, and thought better of mentioning Thella. There were already too many tangents in this recap.

"Then I found Ash, quarantined in this crazy red atmosphere. He was trying to use my wand. Something of mine, in your psyche, brought me right to him. You can imagine the rest from there. The deal was to get him out, and he brought me here."

Snape's glare shifted to Ash, who swelled in defense, but remained silent.

"Don't blame him," Harry said. "I would've found you anyway. You know it."

"Your valiant search has been for nothing," Snape stated flatly. "I can't help you."

"We can do this all day. Yes you can. The official story is that you're dead, but I've been told that higher ups know full well that you're alive. It's considered classified information. My memories cleared your name. You can go public if you have to. You can certainly travel without being arrested. And now that I have connections to the CIUM, I can work with you to retrieve almost any information that's out there. The Death Eaters who performed the curse, were people you knew. They must've worked out that spell on Draco, kept notes and records, experimentation studies."

When Snape didn't appear to react, he pressed on.

"We can interrogate those who went to Azkaban. We can track down those who were there that night. We can tear through their minds for clues, for the recipe to that fucking curse. And once you know the mechanics of it, you can draft something, invent something that counters all the effects. I know you can. Hell, stories from the Order, say that you came up with the potion that stopped Remus from turning during full moons. You're a genius. If it takes years to do this, I'm willing to wait. Just give Iece your time and focus. I know-"

"You know nothing about me," Snape interrupted. "I stay away from the outside world for a reason. When I want information, people die. I walked a tightrope between death and death for twenty years, and in the end I received a healthy dose of my own karma. You would ask that this murderer crawl out of the dark and touch your child. What Lucius has done to you, must've driven you insane. If she were my child, I would salvage her life in gratefulness and turn my back on the world of Death Eaters, murderers, and dark magic forever. You would hand your daughter to the devil himself."

Harry stepped up to him. "I would pay the devil to make her well. If a killer had the power to save her, I would place her in his still dripping, bloody hands. Our lives are tied to magic, dark and otherwise. There's no escaping that. Especially hers. It just so happens, you're the killer I love. I'll forgive anything from you. I know who you really are, regardless of the labels you use to intimidate me. I've killed too. I know there's a time for it. So you're not going to scare me away with the whole morality bullshit. I'm too old for that. I have a kid now, and I'll go through any law to make sure she gets what she needs. And I can tell you've changed for the better. You never used words like karma before."

He saw Snape reflect inward, before looking at him again. Good. He was getting through. "Help her."

Snape turned from the photo. Sighing, he sounded weary. "You will have to look elsewhere for her salvation. I've no more epic deceptions and battles within me. You kids never stop demanding, as if youth was the highest priority within nature, and all are expected to drop everything and value your concerns as you do."

"I've never asked you for anything."

"Here's a bit of news. One hundred and eighty-seven children were killed, tortured, disfigured and orphaned during the two weeks prior to the battle at Hogwarts. Muggle and magical alike. That's just a small window. A slice of irreparable damage that will forever effect the development of surviving structures in our culture. There are kids who will never see again, walk again, or even speak again, so varied were the techniques to get their parents to talk. And here you are, complaining, hunting me down, all because your child stands a good chance of not fitting in. This isn't about her gender and saving her delicate psychological balance. It's about your pride. Sex organs pose no health threats, but what people think, do. It's bad enough that Lucius humiliated you that night, far worse than killing you, but now the perversions that were ripe that evening, will always show themselves to you, in your daughter's body."

Harry waited, not sure where this was going.

"Before, you could let time distance you and block out the sight of that night. But you can't block out her. Your disgust with her father, makes her condition unbearable to you. It almost feels as though he's touching her, not you, because to you, she's suffering in the most private of places. And once she has to deal with shame, you fear it will cripple her. But that shame is yours, not hers. A child of two, knows nothing of shame unless her guardians teach it to her. So the real problem here, is you, not some call to come to her aid."

Snape drove his point home. "Get rid of the shame that you feel for her, and all of your problems will be solved. Stop pitying her, and you will take a great stone off of her back. The curse is done. Your presence here has less to do with a curse, than it does with your inability to be represented by a child who will never be looked upon as normal. As acceptable. In fact, she will be feared as a threat to other children, and whispers of her parentage will ensue. Her abnormality will be Lucius violating you all over again. Not merely for one catastrophic evening, but for the many decades that will make up yours and your daughter's lives. And you can't live with that."

"No. That's not true at all. And you're a right bastard for mentioning it."

"The point is, your child lives, when so many others were lost. Take that gift and run, no matter what was done to her. Stop demanding perfection, justice, or even normalcy. Just be grateful that she's intelligent and healthy. That's far more than what others have been left with."

Harry felt himself heaving. Anger spiraled up his body. "You're making it sound like I'm being petty. Like her body is nothing to get upset about. She's only two."

Snape's manner picked up speed and insistence. He bent, driving words into Harry with tight lips. "Which means, she barely even knows she has a body yet, let alone all the adult politics that go with using one. She's still young enough to mold into someone who doesn't give a damn. You want to help her? Go back home and be the best father you can be to her. Make her laugh every day. Fill her life with light and stop chasing the dark. Make her so happy, that it doesn't even occur to her that anything's wrong. And – as she grows – not when she's older – happily explain to her that she's different from others. She'll feel so certain of her self, that she'll pat you on the head for that look of pity in your eyes. She'll make you ashamed that you ever doubted she could handle it. Stop dumping your fears into her lap and blaming Lucius and Voldemort. They may have created the curse, but you're creating her life around it, and that gives you far more time and resources to work with."

Harry shook his head. "You're cruel. I know I shouldn't expect anything less. But you're pretending her situation is somehow not as bad as it really is. You just don't want to help us."

"You don't need help. You need to commit to her, regardless of what's happening to her. You told yourself you could get past her looks, but your test has come in the form of something more serious. You should've known that there would be more to surviving that night than mere rape. This is it. You say you love her. I believe that you do, because you inherited that ability from your mother. You can't help but care about things. Not my cup of tea, but that's fine. However, it isn't the same as liking her. My father loved me. But he didn't like me, and I understood that at a very young age. One loves out of compassion. But liking, that's reaching out and choosing, claiming, desiring, enjoying, and bringing to your chest. You accepted your daughter out of sympathy. You love her out of compassion. But can you like her? Can you stand her, if she carries a mark that is so repugnant to you, society and life as you know it? If you love her, you'll trust her to grow around the curse and beyond it, and accept her regardless."

"Goddamn you! I do love her. I like her, even."

"You don't even know who she is yet. You won't let her express it."

"Fuck you, Snape! I know her better than you do. You're talking like I have no right to want her to be cured. Like I should just accept a scarred childhood for her. You actually sound like your mother. Who is a lunatic, by the way. I will not let my daughter suffer this curse."

"She's not a monster. Stop lamenting her situation as if she is one. Stop playing hero to a situation that needs none. It fueled your school years, now you don't know how to let mundane reality be just that. Stop trying to win a fight you've already lost and give your undivided attention to your daughter. You don't know what the future holds. You might not even have another year with her, let alone decades."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, as much faith as you have in me, I am fallible. I am limited in what I can do. Which is why I've avoided you and others. You are always going to be someone's target. And now that you have a child, she will be someone's target. You know by now that the train explosion was not an accident. Now that Voldemort is out of the way, there's room for others to take his place. Are you going to waste her childhood on trying to undo the past, or are you going to live it with her and Draco? You should be with them right now, not in a cave, trying to change what's already happened."

"You're trivializing my efforts, Snape. You're turning this around on me. That's not fair, and it's not accurate. She's too young to fight for herself, so I'm gonna fight for her."

Since he'd gone this far, he couldn't stop. Snape had said too many things below the belt, so why should he pull his punches?

"I wasn't going to bring it up, but since you're not holding back, neither will I." He steadied his nerve. "I know that you have a very good reason to hate me, even though you obviously don't. And it wasn't just because my dad was a jerk. He went way beyond that. In your portrait at school, I traveled to a place where I met your memories of my parents. I saw what my dad did. I didn't mean to invade your privacy like that, I just wound up there. I tried to stop it, but I couldn't interfere."

Shadows darkened in Snape's glare.

Harry continued, "I know the truth. I know that him and his friends put the curse on you. I know that you survived something no one has the right to know about, and I'm sorry that I do. But that just makes you the best person to help her. You've dealt with this curse too. That's why it's even more confusing that you won't help us. Unless you think it's some sort of fitting justice that could come full circle in James Potter's son. It definitely is, in a way. I wouldn't blame you if you hated him that much. But you don't hate me. All you've done is helped me. And for me to see what he did to you, I don't know how to process that. I shouldn't have mentioned it, but you fucking have me backed into a corner. Just help her, and I'll never mention it again. If you don't, then I'll know that you've never healed from what happened to you. What he did to you. You can't have. No one as capable as you, could turn me away, unless something corrosive was eating away at their heart like acid."

Harry stopped to breathe and let his words sink in. Snape had gone peculiarly motionless, his jaw set. Harry couldn't tell if he were listening or calculating a surprise attack.

He continued, "I don't know, maybe the two have nothing to do with each other, but from where I stand, it makes sense. Why should you lift a finger to undo the punishment that afflicts the Potter line? But that just begs the question, why have you been helping me all this time? Why were you there to rescue me at the derailment? I know it was you, I saw your reflection in the puddle I landed in. I knew you were alive, I just couldn't prove it."

Snape said quickly, "What else did you see in my portrait?"
Harry made a face, bewildered. "Where do I start?" He made light of the question, but what he really got from it was, there were more secrets.

"Your mother showed me some things. How to access the magic I was born with. Wheels of Life, she calls them. I think she tied the curse to Lucius, somehow. And fixed my eyesight. After seeing the wheels, I can still see them if I look over my glasses. Magic is visible to me now, in a way that it wasn't before."

"What did you learn about your parents?"

Harry looked blank. "Other than my dad is an asshole, what should I have learned?"

Snape registered this answer with the scrutiny of a wine connoisseur testing olfactory notes against his pallet.

Instead of answering him, he concluded, "Your time is up. There's nothing I can do for her."

Harry bared his teeth. "You mean you won't. Is this about my dad? Then why help me behind my back?"

In the two seconds of silence before Snape replied, Harry knew that he would apparate. Hairs on his neck, alerted him to mynute magical intention, and a secretive leer in Snape's manner. Without a plan, Harry threw his palm outward, chaotically willing his magic to track him wherever he went. Fragments of reason told him that as long as he set it in motion, he should be able to use his phantom Elder Wand, the one in his imagination, to lead him to him.

Snape ground out his message, his shoulder leaning towards Harry. "I intervene when necessary. Too many eyes are still upon you, and also your family. I can't be seen with you. You might trust all this pardoning of my past crimes, but I don't have your faith in the Ministry or the wizarding populace, or the surviving Death Eaters who want to kill me. Respect my wishes or don't. Either way, this conversation ends here. As long as I'm alive, I will contribute to your survival as I see fit. I can offer no more commitment. However, you must act responsibly.

"Act like you have a child worth living for, and stop chasing every long shot answer that puts you both in danger. It's time for you to grow up and accept that I can't magically make everything right. It's just as important that I stay away from you, for your survival, as it is that you stay away from me, for mine. For once, you narcissistic offspring of your father, astound me and say that you understand what I'm telling you. Let go of me, and use your family to fill that void. If you were attentive to them, you wouldn't need my protection at all."

Harry threw a hasty tracking spell at him. Snape blocked it. Not only blocked it, but diverted it back to him and upgraded it to a line of tracers that actually formed rope-like extensions and wrapped around Harry. He added a current, so that Harry's attention was immediately diverted by voltage low enough to survive, but high enough to stun him into inactivity. Just to show he meant business, he let the plasmic ropes burn right through Harry's clothing, singeing his upper arms until the smell of cauterized flesh wafted in the air. By then, Harry's screams echoed mindlessly around the cave. He didn't see Ash running for Snape, grabbing him and shaking the wizard out of his fixed absorption with making sure Harry got the message.

"That's enough!" Ash yelled. "Let him go, he doesn't deserve this. He's just trying to get his kid some help, he's not trying to hurt you."

Snape had steeled himself against Harry's screams. Ash wouldn't understand that Harry was now a wizard far more powerful than himself, if only it occurred to Harry to quantify power. He couldn't let him realize it. Then it would be too late to run. There would be no where he could hide. He had to keep Harry in pain, to keep him away. It prevented him from forming cohesive thought and cerebral clarity.

Harry fell to his knees. Ash began shaking Snape, pulling him off his unshakable stance. "You're killing him."

"He's stronger than he looks. His magic will make sure he takes no mortal wounds."

"His heart could give out."

"Nonsense." But he faltered. His plasmic ropes dimmed, and Harry sat crumpled, on his calves. His rib cage appeared locked as he hunched over in pain. Sparks popped in and out of view as the current died around him.

"Don't hurt him anymore. I'll take him away. I'll take him home. We'll get out of your hair. He didn't mean any harm."

Ash leapt from Snape over to Harry, on nervous energy. "We're going. I never should've brought him, I'm sorry. I'll take responsibility. I'll make sure he gets home safe, just don't hurt him anymore. My jeep should still be here, parked where I hid it. Just help me get him to it and you won't see him again. I promise."

"That's not a promise you can make."

"Yeah, well let's take care of tonight and worry about tomorrow when it comes. I didn't bring him here to suffer like that. He fucking helped me. I'm not going to watch you do that just because you don't have the balls to tell him how much you love him. People like you…"

Ash struggled to get Harry's arm across the back of his shoulder so that he could lift him up. He refused to ask for magical help from Snape. "Come on, son. There's no getting through to him tonight."

He yelled at Snape, "And for the record, since you want everybody to believe you're so cold, I saw what that guy did to you too. I'd shut my mouth about it, but no, you're a hardass, you can take it. It's not like you have feelings, or you wouldn't be able to attack Harry this way, or so you'd have us believe. I don't know what's going on in that freaking head of yours, but I know, psychologically, you're in some deep shit and you need help. You're no different than those boys who attacked you. You use pain like it's the most effective weapon you have. You risked your life to save this kid. You gave your arm to physically restore his body. Now you try to kill to convince him to stay away from you? What's the point of being some great wizard if you're terrified of something as small and humble as fucking compassion?"

As he pulled Harry to the entrance of the cave, he didn't see the sidelong appraisal that Snape gave him. Harry stumbled, shaking and baring down on his fried nerves, too immersed in his recovery to care about what was being said about him.

"What's the point of knowing all that magic, if you turn tail and run just because somebody loves you? I've seen you fight a dozen people at once, yet you could hardly look a that picture of his little girl. I guess violence is easy for you, after what you've been through. You're good at dishing out pain. Fearless even. But what good is all that power, if you're still a coward when it comes to the things that matter the most? Why is the most dangerous man I've ever met, no match for a little girl and her desperate dad? Who you love," he emphasized.

"The saddest part about what I saw with Harry, wasn't the attack on your person. It's the fact that you've become just as cruel as the boys who did that to you. This kid right here, is going to miss out, because you can't love. I brought him here, I'll get him out. He's going home with me. I might be a useless muggle, but I know how to treat a guest."

Ash strained under Harry's weight. Harry might've been of slight stature, but he was pretty solid.

"Hold on, Harry. I've got you."

Snape watched them go, without offering to make the trip to the car easier on them. He chewed over Ash's condemnation, not liking the taste in his mouth. At least he didn't run from his dwelling, though he was willing to give that up at a moment's notice. That wasn't about his pride, it was about making sure Harry got the message. His mind was made up and his conscience was perfectly clear. All of them stood a better chance of surviving without him. But this wasn't the end of it. He knew Harry would return. Now was the time to pack up or figure out a way to hold his ground. As long as he stayed, he'd have trouble. He had to decide. Should he run, or was it time to face his greatest secret?


Outside, they weathered the fake storm. Ash drug Harry to the boundary. Once outside of it, they were greeted with a calm evening. He took a moment to catch his breath.

"Holy shit. I'm home. Thank God," he whispered to the open air.

When he couldn't drag Harry anymore, he convinced him to walk. "The road's over that hill. My jeep's there. You're gonna have to pull out of it. I know you're trying. I know you can hear me."

Harry responded by putting more of his weight on his legs.

"Soon as you get some rest, you'll be able to fix yourself. I'm sure of it," he comforted himself with the thought, as much as he spoke to Harry.

At the jeep, Ash was sweating buckets and realizing how out of shape he was. Harry could now hold his eyes open for seconds at a time and refused to fall unconscious again. Speaking was still too effortful and Ash tried not to think about what it must've been like to endure Snape's punishment. With Harry silent and barely conscious beside him, he found the highway and made his way home. Bits of conversation hung over his shoulder like an annoying knat. His mind couldn't help but interact with it. Obliviate? If Fost‒ Snape had the power to make him forget, why didn't he do that in the first place? Instead of sending him to that red abyss? Hell, he could've done that the day he recovered, a year ago, and Ash wouldn't be any wiser.

And now things were just going to be even more shit between them, since he confessed to seeing what must be one of Snape's biggest secrets. That was too personal for comfort. Too tragic. How do you look someone in the eye after that? He was a doctor, he could do all the eye-looking he had to. But he had a breaking point and the drive home, with the drone of his engine telling him he's safe now, made him consider letting this wizard go for good. Maybe, he should face reality and admit that his and Snape's worlds do not belong anywhere near each other. It wasn't the danger that bothered him, so much as the frustration of not being able to make a dent in that wizard's emotions. If Harry couldn't affect him, then what kind of chance did he have?

In his gravel driveway, he turned the car off, looked over at Harry, and prepared his shoulders for one last haul. Harry's head had fallen to the side. He looked asleep, but sat up, wincing, when Ash announced, "This is my house. You can rest here."

The house was dark and empty. Being in a strange space, appeared to alert Harry more. They made it up the steps. Inside, he walked on his own, his movements careful and pained. Ash led him to the dining table and watched him sit. He got Harry some water and set to making coffee for himself. Everything appeared as he'd left it. Fresh vacuum tracks, a new trash liner, and a note, told him that Reuse continued her cleaning schedule without him. Foster‒ Snape must've told her to keep to her normal routine. Her note confirmed that the leftovers in the fridge were from a dinner prepared two nights ago. Still edible. He scrubbed furiously in a speed shower, then set about heating everything, checking in on Harry occasionally. He offered clean clothes and a shower, but retreated when it fell on deaf ears.

The boy sat at the same table he had shared with Snape. He tried not to assume what Harry must be thinking, but by the third time he checked on him, Harry seemed to be holding his body upright with more strength, sipping his water, and staring into space at something hopeless. When Ash placed a plate of steaming roast, honeyed carrots, and potatoes in front of him, Harry blinked into stunned awareness.

"I wasn't expecting this. He could take a lesson from you in hospitality." He tried to smirk, but his smile just looked sad, and they both knew that it was.

"No need to talk. I'm kinda glad to know I'm not the only one he treats like dandruff."

It was out before he realized it might be too harsh. "Sorry."

"No, you're right. He's always been like that. To almost everyone." He remembered that Snape never treated McGonagall like that. That reminded him, he'd have to contact her using letter parchment. He didn't feel like apparating at the moment, and he seemed to be out of danger, so he rested as he recovered clarity. He wasn't done with Snape by a long shot. He just had to put more thought and tactic into approaching him. This wasn't the end of it, it wasn't.

"You can sleep in the old room I gave him. It's where he stayed while he recovered." Because Ash didn't know what to say, he added, "Try to eat. I'm not such a great cook, you'll wish you had if you stay here another night."

Harry thought about it. "I can't leave it like this. Are you sure it's okay? I could grab a hotel room somewhere."

"Nonsense. You're here and I've got room. 'Sides, you did get me out of there. Let me return the favor."

This hit the right way. "Thanks. If it takes longer than a few days to win him over, I'll make other arrangements."

"Son, you and I both know, you got an uphill climb. I'm gonna support you till you've given it your best shot. I'd venture that he's just as shocked as we are, and better at hiding it. Give him time. We don't know what he's running from. More than either of us thought, apparently."

Ash thought of something, then debated on whether he should mention it. He blurted, "I saw him take the bone from his arm and use it to restore your amputated limbs. That explosion was no joke."

Harry looked up, his interest peaked.

Ash continued, "If he won't talk to you, it ain't because he hates you. It's because he doesn't know how. Evidently, he's been living in survival mode for decades. It's all he knows, from what I can tell. Don't give up on him. Even if you have to leave here with nothing, at least you tried."

Harry picked up his fork, only to push the vegetables around. "I'm not really surprised that he shut me out. And I don't know how to give up, so he's stuck with me."

He took his first bite just to be polite. Flavor saturated his tongue, pulling saliva into his throat, and he realized how hungry he was. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure how long he'd been in the painting. If Ash had mistaken three weeks for three days, then how much time had actually passed? He dug his phone out of his pocket, amazed that there'd been no reason to check it during an excursion that, to him, only lasted a few hours.

There was no guarantee that muggle technology could hold up in a world made of paint, magic, and consciousness, in the first place. The face of his home screen read the impossible. It was now two days later than when he entered the painting. He accepted it. He'd been chased by an adolescent Snape, saw his father do unspeakable things, and finally found the real Snape. So what, if he had to put up with a little time distortion. He didn't like it one bit, but tonight was full of things he had to accept.

Now that he was safe, with no trace of Thella in his mind, he figured he should call her using the phone. He hadn't felt her during Snape's attack. Instead of arguing with Snape, he should've been clutching the talisman and asking for her guidance. But rationality went out the window when he stood before Snape. Faced with the other's humiliation, he wanted so badly to make up for what he still couldn't believe he'd seen. Some things were too much.

It struck him. Snape understood exactly what assault was like. The curse and the crimes, were exactly the same. Is that why Snape was so good at helping him? There was an identification there, an empathy? But that didn't explain his protectiveness over the past two decades. Still, it was strange to think they had both endured the exact same curse and trauma, let alone whatever the hell it meant that his father connected them both.

He had enough in his head to keep him busy for the rest of the night. He ate in silence. Amid all the sorting in his thoughts, something utterly soothing and hopeful gave off a light. He was going to get to stay in the same room that had belonged to Snape for half a year. Same bed, same sheets, same house. That was closer to him than he had achieved so far. That was something, at least. As long as Ash's hospitality held out, he had a foothold in Snape's world, and he wasn't giving that up for anything. Knowing what his father had done, it was more important than ever to try to make up for all that damage. Iece still needed help, but so did Snape. He saw that now. If he had to fix one problem before the other could be fixed, then so be it. If that was going to take longer than he thought, he'd put his whole life on hold to make time for it. Both of them were worth it. Now that he couldn't un-see what his father had done, he couldn't abandon Snape for any reason.

He thought to himself, you watched over me for years. Now it's time for me to take care of you, Professor.