AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I'm sorry to keep doing this to y'all, but yeah, we're in our angst era. Drama galore. But we're going to get through this. Thanks for sticking with it!

ENJOY! But also, brace yourself for it.

With the hood of his traveling cloak pulled down low over his face, Snape apparated into the dark shadows of magical London. It had been years since he'd walked these streets as himself, yet even with the sunrise still a hour away and the pavement completely devoid of people, it was still unsettling.

Part of him longed for a cigarette, a habit he hadn't indulged in for years, but with his back pressed against the cold damp stone and the icy wind biting at his face, he couldn't think of anything more perfect to calm his nerves. It threw him back to his early years as a Professor, when he'd stand at the top of the bell tower late at night, exhaling trails of smoke into the fog as he overlooked the silent grounds of Hogwarts, basking in his only moments of peace and solitude.

Instead he closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, willing himself into a state of meditation. Anything could happen now. He'd had far more of these moments than anyone ever should, and truthfully he'd gone into many others with far more grim possibilities— but somehow the outcome from this was far more important to him than anything he'd ever faced before. Soren.

He took one more deep breath and launched himself off the wall, striding toward the Ministry with confidence and laser-focused determination. You're Severus Motherfucking Snape. You will not fail.

As he walked through the familiar door, he let down his hood and removed his traveling cloak, smoothing down his expensive robes as he approached the front desk.

"My name is Severus Snape. I'd like to request an urgent meeting with someone from the Ministry of Magical Children. My son is missing."

It was extremely early on a Monday morning, so there were very few people in the atrium at this hour, but his voice and his name were unmistakable, and even though Snape spoke in a low, measured tone, his words carried and echoed through the hall and everyone within a hundred meters froze, eyes boring into him.

"One minute, sir." The young man behind the desk couldn't have been more than 20, so he likely had no idea who Snape was, but he tapped the appropriate buttons to send the message.

Within minutes, Snape was greeted curtly by several low level Ministry lackeys, some of whom he recognized as former students, others he did not, and was quickly escorted to a secure room where he was asked to sit behind a small table.

It was an odd feeling for Snape who was usually in a position of power, standing or sitting intimidatingly behind his large desk with some other unfortunate soul cowering in the small chair in front. It felt unnatural to be on the other side, but he refused to allow himself to appear anything but calm and self-assured.

No one spoke. There were two magical law enforcement officers standing on either side of the door, shoulders puffed out and wands in hand while several others gathered outside, peering in with curiosity.

There was no mistaking the fact that this would not be a pleasant conversation. Snape could hear mumbling voices as he watched a small huddle of Ministry officials, aurors, and magical law enforcement officers huddle and then dissipate.

After what was the better part of an hour, a young but intense-looking woman came barreling through the door in Ministry robes, her face rigid and sleep-deprived and her arms full of parchment.

"I'm Geraldine Fischer from the Children's Ministry, I lead special investigations for the division of child protection. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?"

She dropped her folder of parchment loudly on the table before looking at him. "Your name?"

Snape was tempted to roll his eyes but breathed himself into a place of calm, allowing his face to remain as neutral as possible. Any loss of control at this point would only further complicate things.

"I've previously been known as Severus Snape, an identity I retired at the end of the war when I was presumed dead. I now go by the name Alastair Kent."

Geraldine stared into his face. She knew who he was, but had never met him in person as her parents refused to send her to Hogwarts during the height of the impending war. "What brings you to the Ministry today, Mr. Snape."

Hearing his former name, particularly without a modicum of respect, irked him, but he knew his success would depend entirely on his ability to stay agreeable. "My seven year-old son is missing."

A small huff of disapproval escaped from her lips as she opened up her file. "You seem remarkably calm for someone whose young child is missing."

A flash of anger narrowed Snape's eyes briefly before he willed them back to a neutral position. "I can assure you I'm beside myself with worry, however, I don't see how acting irrationally will be useful to anyone at the moment. I just want my son back home, safe and sound."

"His name?"

"Soren…his mother's name was Blackburn. You know mine."

"When did you last see him?"

"Yesterday."

Geraldine looked up, annoyed. "If you want us to help you, you're going to need to be more specific. What time did you last see him? Where was he? What was he doing?"

"Around 3pm, he had a snack and was resting in his room at home. He'd had a rather poor night of sleep the prior evening and it was clear from his behavior he was over-tired."

"Clear from his behavior?" She raised an eyebrow and sat back in her chair. "Meaning what, was he acting out? Did you get angry at him? Did he push you too far and you lashed out, lost control?"

Snape knew she was trying to bait him and it was winding him up as intended, but he wasn't going to fall into her trap. "I've spent decades of my life working with children, Ms. Fischer. Soren is generally a well-behaved, happy child, but he was not himself yesterday— he was having difficulty following instructions meant for his own safety and after a particularly uncharacteristic emotional outburst, it was obvious to me he was overstimulated and in need of some rest and quiet time. I escorted him to his room where he was told he could read or rest quietly until dinner time."

"Did you shout at him? Hit him? Hex him a bit so he'd listen?"

"No, I did not. I did, however, ask him to write an apology letter to our house elf whom he'd mistreated. A task he did without complaint, even drawing a picture. Then he napped, read and had a snack. It was a perfectly appropriate way to handle an exhausted 7-year old. And let me be clear, I have never, nor would I ever, ever consider raising my wand to a child."

There was more angry scratching of quill on parchment. "And when did you notice he was missing?"

Snape paused for a minute to think this through, being careful in his answer to be vague but as truthful as possible. "Sometime in the evening after 6pm. When he didn't come down for dinner, I went to check on him, but he wasn't in his room."

"What did you do then?"

Idiot woman, he thought, trying to reign in his irritation. "I looked for him, obviously. I called his name, I tore apart the manor house, searching every room, wardrobe, and cupboard a dozen times. Then I looked for him in the garden and on the grounds. I searched outside until it was too dark to continue and then searched again inside."

"Based on your alleged timeline, you noticed him missing over twelve hours ago, why are you just reporting this now?" Geraldine looked up, judging him deeply with her eyes.

With a small breath, Snape continued. "He's 7, I didn't imagine he'd go far. I thought he was just upset at being confined to his room and perhaps was hiding somewhere, maybe had fallen asleep. I was certain I'd find him without needing to involve the authorities…however, in retrospect, I should have come sooner."

"I'm going to need you to give us a detailed description."

"Soren is seven, but quite small for his age, perhaps this tall—" Snape put his hand up to Soren's approximately height. "He has chin-length black hair. Fair skin. Large brown eyes."

"Any scars or distinguishing marks?"

"No."

"Did you bring any recent photos?" She looked up and put her hand out.

Photos? Snape had barely known the child for a few months, of course he didn't have any photos. "No."

Once again Geraldine looked up from her notes with an unimpressed scowl. "You don't have any photos of your son?"

Snape leaned forward slightly. "No. I do not. Until quite recently he was living with his mother, who tragically passed away. When he came to me, he did not come with photos and in the short period of time in which he's been in my care, I have not taken any."

"I see." Geraldine scribbled more notes on her parchment before closing up the folder and folding her hands on the table.

"Date of birth?"

"Shouldn't you have that on file?" Basics, Snape knew, but he realized he didn't even know the boy's birthday and he berated himself internally for never bothering to find out. With a quick bit of math he spat out, "August, 1997."

Geraldine raised an eyebrow, but moved on. "So you took custody of the boy from his mother after she died."

"Clearly."

With her quill on parchment, Geraldine scribbled a few more notes before looking up, not bothering to hide the loathing in her eyes or her voice, but shooting him a look of warning at his tone.

"I'll be blunt with you, Mr. Snape. I'm not at liberty to share details, but there's a boy matching Soren's description in our custody at St. Mungo's. Although I'm remiss to understand how this boy was found, cursed and beaten, wandering alone in Diagon Alley. Not to mention, in addition to his acute injuries he's unweight and malnourished, which given that you admit he was in your custody for the last few months, we'd be remiss not to thoroughly investigate you. This is easily one of the worst cases of child abuse I've seen, and none of us are taking this lightly. So I suggest you keep that in mind."

Snape's blood was boiling, but he kept his face still. "Soren was in poor health when he came to me. His mother did her best, but with her ailing health and financial difficulties, his nutrition was not always adequate."

"And yet, as I understand it, you're living in absolute lap of luxury. You didn't deem it important to ensure your son and his mother were living in proper conditions, with consistent access to food and healthcare?"

"Stella—Soren's mother—only made me aware of Soren's existence as she was dying. Had I known earlier, I would have ensured both of them were well-taken care of. I'd have never left either of them living in squalor, but unfortunately she met her demise before I could intervene."

"And why do you think that is? Was she worried that given your nefarious past, you'd be a danger to your son or did she just imagine you'd be wholly unsuitable as a father?"

It took everything Snape had not to slam his hand down and snap at the idiot woman. "Stella and I barely knew one another. We had a few brief romantic interactions, one of which clearly resulted in her falling pregnant, but that was the last I saw of her. Over 8 years ago. I cannot possibly speak on her behalf nor does it do either of us any good to speculate on her reasons."

"Was it a consensual relationship?"

Snape gritted his teeth. "Yes. Unequivocably."

He paused before he narrowed his eyes even more. "And despite what you deem to be my nefarious past, Ms. Fischer, I was a respected Professor and Head of House at Hogwarts for nearly two decades, and in all that time, I was never once accused of any inappropriate, abusive or neglectful behavior toward any of my students or staff."

Geraldine pressed her lips together as if she didn't believe it. "I've heard differently. You have quite a reputation from your time at Hogwarts."

Refusing to dignify that with a response, Snape just let the silence hang ominously until she continued.

"As I said, there's a boy in our custody matching Soren's description, however, until I can verify his identity and your legitimacy with regard to his custody, this is being treated as a potential child trafficking case."

"That's absurd! I haven't trafficked or abused my son. I am his biological father and if you have him, I demand to see him. Now." Snape's emotions were bubbling to the surface, and it was taking every ounce of energy he had to keep himself from exploding in anger and frustration.

"That's not going to happen. You've admitted to having him in your custody prior to his assault, so you won't be allowed anywhere near him until our investigation is complete. I won't lie to you, given your past and the suspicious timeline you've just given me, I'm not sure it will take too much more to prove our case, but believe me, when we do, I'll make sure you never breathe air as a free man ever again."

Snape's eyes went wide and his body burned with rage. "Give me Veritaserum or do whatever you need to do to get to the truth, but just know that I am innocent. And while you waste your time with me, there's a madman out there who has harmed my son."

"We don't use those antiquated methods any more. Veritaserum is strictly forbidden by the Ministry and is considered highly unethical. So you will remain in Ministry custody until our investigation is complete."

"Then do your job, Ms. Fischer, and do it properly. Preferably with haste so I can be with my son." Snape was seething and he spoke in a low, hushed voice that was so eerily calm it was terrifying.

Geraldine leaned over the table and narrowed her eyes into his, refusing to be intimidated. "Your son has been beaten and hexed with unforgivable curses and spells so vile it would make any decent human being physically ill. So until we have answers, you won't be going anywhere near him."

"Are you charging me with a crime?"

"Not yet, but I'm holding you under caution. Per the mandate of the Children's Ministry, we have up to 5 days to keep you in custody while we gather evidence for your arrest."

"I wish to invoke my right to representation."

Geraldine got up, screeching her chair across the floor and turning around to face the officers at the door. "Take his wand, search him thoroughly and put him in the high security cell. Make sure you get a blood sample for the paternity test. If he gives you any trouble, don't hesitate to bind him or restrain him as needed."

Before she walked out, she turned around briefly. "You get one floo call. I suggest you make the most of it." She let the heavy door slam behind her.

Snape had prepared himself for almost anything, but the whole interaction had been far more dehumanizing than he expected. He knew he hadn't always been a perfect person or father, and if he could go back, he'd do a lot of things differently, but knowing that his son was suffering alone in a hospital while he was locked up, being treated like a criminal was infuriating. Even worse knowing that the person who had really harmed Soren was out there running free. Not for long.

"Stand up, take off your robes, and put your hands above your head. Where's your wand?"

"In the left chest pocket of my coat," Snape said as he removed his robes slowly, tossing them on the table. When he reached for his wand, one of this officers stunned him and he put his hands up.

"Don't move! Don't reach for your wand. Hands up!" The other officer shouted.

Snape moved slowly and once his hands were in the air, one of the officers shot him with a binding spell while the other roughly tore at his coat and sleeves, baring his arms and chest and digging through the remnants of his clothing until he found his wand, just where Snape said it would be.

It was violating and humiliating as the officers stripped him and put their hands over every inch of his body, the wool and cotton he'd always worn as an armor now hanging off of him in tatters, his body exposed against his will. Snape had to force himself to dissociate in order keep from lashing out or breaking down—it was the most physically vulnerable he'd felt since childhood.

Truthfully, he could have freed himself if he'd wanted to, the rage and magic in his core flaring enough that even without a wand he could have broken the bonds, destroyed the room and made his escape—but he knew that wouldn't serve him. So he retreated into himself until it was over and he was released from the spell, the cool air on his skin a reminder of his nakedness.

By now, the Ministry was bustling, but Snape was intent on maintaining his dignity, keeping his back straight and his arms at his side, refusing to cower or cover himself even though His Dark Mark and all of the vicious were on display for the world to see. He stilled his face and lifted his chin, following his tormentors out calmly, not wanting to give them an ounce of satisfaction as they marched him back through the halls of the Ministry to the dungeons beneath.

Once he heard the heavy cell door close and lock behind, him he nearly collapsed in a panic attack, the entire ordeal having been more painful than any Cruciatus he'd ever suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord. But he breathed himself through it, knowing he'd endure anything right now if it meant getting Soren back.

Marie tossed and turned all night, in between fits of crying and being angry, worrying about Soren and hating Lord Kent. As dawn approached a chill descended on her as the fire in the hearth reduced to embers. She ignored it as long as she could, burying herself in her duvet and attempting to will herself to sleep, until she finally gave up, grabbed her wand and slung a few logs lazily into the fireplace.

Realizing that sleep was futile, she wrapped herself tightly in her blanket and sat on a chair near the fireplace, stoking the logs and warming herself as she replayed every interaction and conversation she'd had with Lord Kent over and over again, still unable to fully make sense of it all.

She wanted to hate him. She DID hate him. And yet, there was a part of her that felt so hurt by him because as much as she loathed herself for it, at some point she'd actually cared for the man. You don't even know who is, Marie. But he'd taken care of her and wanted to help her…and the chemistry between them felt so real. Stop it, you moron! He's a psychopath. And so are you. She tried not to let herself think about how much she'd fantasized about him scolding her and punishing her.

"You're just as nuts as he is!" Marie finally shouted out loud to herself. She groaned and tossed the blanket off, convincing herself it was the fire that was making her overheat. He's a complete asshole. He wanted to abandon Soren. He's a fucking Death Eater. And a liar. And a hypocrite. There, now she felt better.

As soon as the clock struck 7, Marie changed her clothes and lazily fixed her hair so she could drag herself down the hall for breakfast. On any other day she would have enjoyed it immensely, but instead she spent 20 minutes just pushing eggs and sausage around her plate before finally giving up. Somehow she managed to choke down a bit of coffee, but it only made her stomach feel more sick and her body more jittery.

Exhausted from several nights of poor sleep and not knowing what else to do with all of her pent up anxiety, she threw on her warm cloak and went for a walk, hoping the cool air would clear her mind. But instead, as soon as she stepped out the door, her feet were on a mission, and they took her directly to St. Mungo's. She knew it was impulsive, and probably pointless, but she was desperate to see Soren and she had to at least try.

Marie hovered for a few minutes outside, wondering if she was making a rash decision, but she threw caution to the wind and pushed open the main door, heading for the mediwitch behind the reception desk. "Hi, I'd like to visit a patient, please. Or if he can't have visitors, maybe just get a status update on how he's doing?"

"Name please?" The young witch at the desk asked as she flopped open a large book of names.

"Um, Soren. Soren Kent? He's seven." The mediwitch flew through the book and tapped it a few times with her wand. "No patient here by that name."

"Are you sure? Did you check the paediatric registry? I think he came in last night." Marie tried to peer over the desk but she couldn't see a thing.

Another few taps of the mediwitch's wand and flip of a few pages back and forth and she looked up, shaking her head. "Sorry, ma'am. No one listed here under that name. If you want to wait a minute, I can check with my supervisor."

"Sure, thanks."

"Just have a seat over there."

Marie sat down and looked around nervously— she'd never been that comfortable in hospitals. There was a tiny moment in time when she'd thought about being a healer, probably because she'd aced all of her studies and her professors all encouraged her, but she knew teaching was her true passion. She also knew she didn't have the constitution to deal with people who were so debilitated by curses that there was little she could do. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of Soren being permanently injured…or worse. Don't think like that, he's going to be fine.

The minutes ticked by slowly and as exhaustion finally hit her, she leaned her head up against the wall and closed her eyes. She'd just let out a deep sigh when she felt a firm tap on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss, can you come with me please?"

Expecting to see a mediwitch, or even someone in healer robes, Marie was shocked when her eyes popped open and she was met with a burly young man from Magical Law Enforcement. She jolted upright at the unexpected touch. "Who, me?"

"I need you to follow me, please," he said matter of factly.

Panic flashed across her face, but not knowing what else to do, Marie stood up and followed him to a small, windowless room off the main corridor.

He opened the door for her and told her to have a seat on one of the simple but uncomfortable looking chairs on the other side of the room.

"Am I in trouble? I just wanted to check on a patient."

Without a word, he closed the door and moved one of the chairs so he was sitting across from her at a comfortable distance, quill and parchment in hand. "Just a few questions. Your name?"

"Marie. Marie Cloutier." She swallowed a huge lump, kicking herself for being overly hasty in rushing to St. Mungos. Damn. Why did you give him your real name? Too late now.

"Where are you from, you don't sound like you're British."

"Um, no, sir. Canadian."

"Do you live in the UK?" He looked up from where he was scribbling notes on a small parchment.

Marie paused for a moment. What was she supposed to say? As a Canadian citizen she could come and go for months at a time without needing any special visa or residency permit, although she technically wasn't supposed to be working. But no one in the magical world really cared too much about that. Did they? Lord Kent hadn't even asked her about it.

Her mind start spinning— what if they found out she was working, would she be deported? Fined? Put in jail? She started to panic.

Before she could think through her answer, she blurted out. "I think there's been some kind of mistake. I'm just here visiting for a few weeks. Traveling around, seeing friends."

Fuck. She'd lied to someone from the Ministry. She hadn't meant to, but now what could she say? She had to go with it.

"Why did you come to St. Mungo's this morning?"

Think quickly, Marie. She should have known there would be drama surrounding Soren, so she knew she had to come up with something else. She tried to be cool and relaxed. "Oh, my mom said her friend's son was in the hospital, asked me to come by and just say hello since I was already here in London."

Shit. Another lie. She tried not to imagine Lord Kent's dour face, but she could practically see him shaking his head in disapproval. OMG, not now!

The officer seemed confused. "Who is it you were looking for?"

Again, Marie hesitated before pulling something out of her ass, hoping if they pushed it she could say the front-desk lady misheard her. "Oh, it's Stephan, I think. Stephan Cork. Honestly I wasn't paying much attention when my mom floo-called me on Saturday, I'd been out with friends and had a few drinks. I've never met this family, actually, just friends of my parents from way back. I should have come by yesterday, he's probably not even here any more. And at least now I can tell my mom I tried."

She laughed nervously and hoped it sounded believable, although she could feel her entire body rigid with anxiety.

After staring at her briefly, the man folded his parchment up and tucked it into his robes as he stood, letting out an irritated sigh as he moved the chair back to its original position. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Cloutier, I think there was a small miscommunication. I hope your friend's kid is doing better."

"Yeah, thanks." Marie smiled nervously and stood up. "I'll just be on my way then."

"Can you find your way back to the front or do you need me to walk you back?"

"I got it." Marie wanted to run, but she tried to force herself to walk at a normal pace, looking behind only once just to give a quick wave goodbye but the man had already disappeared.

As soon as she got out the front door, she sprinted around the corner and apparated herself back to her room at the Leaky Cauldron. With the speed of a jackrabbit, she threw everything into her suitcase, and shrank it down. She had to leave. Now. Get out of London before they figured out she was lying and came after her. This whole situation was far worse than she thought.

You idiot. What were you thinking going there? She sat on her bed paralyzed trying to figure out where to go. She wished she'd kept in better touch with some of her friends, but it would be weird just to show up and ask to stay. Meeting for lunch after several years was one thing, asking to hide in someone's home while avoiding a legal investigation was another.

Dammit Marie! She'd been so desperate to see Soren that she hadn't been thinking, but it was clear now that whatever was going on with him and Lord Kent, it was obviously far more complicated than she realized. Dark wizards. Curses. Of course the Ministry and Magical Law Enforcement would be involved. And she definitely couldn't afford to be mixed up in it. If she ever did want to start her school, the last thing she needed was a history of legal issues and a reputation of being mixed up with Death Eaters.

And as much as she was desperate to do everything she could for Soren, she knew Lord Kent was right, she didn't stand a chance. There was no way she'd be able to get custody of him—she had no money (maybe a month's worth of salary if Lord Kent had bothered to deposit it, although given how they'd ended things, she doubted it), and it hadn't even occurred to her she had no legal status in the UK. They certainly weren't going to hand over an orphaned magical British child to a random undocumented Canadian without a place to live or two knuts to rub together.

Without a plan in place, Marie shoved her shrunken bags into her robes, and took her key to the front desk.

"I need to check out early," she said, smiling. "Thanks for your hospitality."

Before the guy behind the desk could say another word, she stepped into the street and looked for an apparition point before disappearing with a small crack.

Hours ticked by while Snape sat motionless inside the holding cell. It was freezing cold— even more so now that he was half naked—but he remained still as a statue, his face impassive even though his mind was moving a million miles an hour beneath the surface.

All he wanted was to rescue Soren, and for all of this to be over with.

This too shall pass.

It was a mantra he'd heard from a kind primary school teacher who had cleaned him up one day and given him a fresh set of clothes after a particularly horrendous few weeks at home, and since then, he'd always repeat it to himself when he was in the depths of despair, reminding himself there was always an end. Either things would get better or he would die. Both had always given him some measure of comfort, although this time, death was not an option. He wouldn't leave Soren, so he'd have to do everything in his power to survive.

Lurking inside of him were deep feelings of guilt and regret, but he shoved them down knowing he'd only handicap himself if he allowed feelings like that to surface. So he locked up every emotion he had as tightly as possible and focused purely on strategic thinking.

Finally, he heard the lock moving and an officer he hadn't seen before opened the door and motioned to him. "One floo call. But you'll have to be restrained. Stand up and put your hands behind your back."

"I assure you, I have no plans to do anything rash. There's no need to restrain me."

"If you want your floo call, you'll do as you're told." The officer flashed his wand and gave him an indignant look, clearly enjoying his little power trip.

Snape shot the young man an icy glare, but he stood slowly, cupping his hands behind his back as the officer raised his wand and cast a binding spell around his wrists.

"My clothes. If you could, repair them." It pained Snape to even ask, but he'd really prefer not to make his floo call with his naked torso on display.

With a few flicks of his wand, the officer transfigured his torn clothes into striped prison scrubs.

Snape was relieved to be covered, although there was something equally humiliating about being dressed like a felon. He gave a nod of faux-appreciation and walked dutifully down the hallway toward the heavily charmed floo, which unsurprisingly was fitted with thick metal bars that were clearly meant to prevent him from throwing himself into the flames.

"You got 5 minutes. I need a name and floo details."

He cleared his throat before he spoke slowly. "Minerva McGonagall. Hogwarts School, Headmistress's Office."

When the officer threw in the floo powder and repeated the words, Snape's heart lurched and bile rose up in his throat. When her face finally appeared in the flames, he heard an audible gasp.

"Severus?"

Her face contorted first in shock, then he watched as her eyes cycled between confusion, anger, and sadness, finally settling somewhere in a deep emotion Snape had only seen once—the very last time he'd looked into her eyes the day he fled from the Great Hall. The overwhelming shame of it all nearly undid him.

"Minerva…" He'd practiced a thousand times what he would say, but it all vanished the instant he met her gaze. He closed his eyes briefly before looking up again. "Forgive me."

"Oh Severus!" It was rare for emotions to get the best of Minerva McGonagall, but tears welled up as she searched his face. "You're alive. Either that or I've gone completely batty in my old age. Where on earth have you been? What is going on?"

"Yes, I'm very much alive and I know I owe you a proper explanation—one I promise you that you'll get soon—but right now I need your help. As you can see, I'm being detained by the Ministry while they investigate me on charges of which I can assure you I am completely innocent. But I need representation. As urgently as possible."

"Of course, Severus. I'll arrange for everything." She paused to stare at him, taking in his striped prison clothes for the first time, clearly hearing the pain in his voice and seeing the desperation in his face. "Are you…alright?"

Snape's heart swelled with her genuine concern and the soft, heartfelt tone he hadn't dared hope for. He'd missed her. There weren't many people he'd say that about, but she was one of them. Part of him feared that she'd never forgive him for everything that had taken place during his last year at Hogwarts, but deep in his heart he'd known if there was one person he could truly depend on, it was her.

He worked to keep the emotion out of his voice. "I'm unharmed. But there's something else I need to tell you... I have a son. His name is Soren and he's 7 years-old. It's a long and complicated story, but he's been cursed and is currently under Ministry custody at St. Mungo's."

"Oh heaven's have mercy, Severus. And his mother?"

"Dead."

"One minute left," the officer said. "Wrap it up."

"Help me Minerva. I need to be with him. They won't give me any details until they clear me but I swear on my life that I had nothing to do with this." Snape never begged anyone, but he allowed a true piece of himself to break free in front of her. Their relationship was complicated, but there was no one else who'd known him in such an authentic way for most of his life, and he trusted her, implicitly to know that at his core he was a good and honorable person. "Please."

"I'll sort it out, Severus. Just keep your wits about you, someone will be there soon. Chin up, stay strong."

"Times up!"

Snape didn't even get to say "Thank you" before the flames were abruptly extinguished and Minerva's head disappeared.

As he was escorted back to his cell, Snape felt the tiniest bit of relief and hope flowing through him for the first time in ages.

Not knowing where else to go, Marie popped back to Edinburgh, quickly transfigured her clothes in an alley, and headed straight for her favorite cafe, a place that for whatever reason had become her safe space.

"Back again, are ye?" The older gentleman behind the counter smiled at her. "Your usual?"

Marie smiled. "Yes, please. Thank you, Frank."

"I'll get it right to you, love, take a seat."

She sat down at her favorite table, and stared out onto the empty streets. Not many people were rushing around this part of town on a Monday mid-morning, but there was something about the energy of this little place that always helped her make sense of things. The coffee wasn't anything particularly special, but it was cozy and the elderly couple who ran the place always treated her kindly.

A few minutes later, Frank set down her coffee along with one of her favorite desserts and Marie nodded her thanks.

For the next hour, she sat and sipped at her coffee, nibbling on a lemon square and mulling over her life choices. She'd really fucked things up this time. Why had she lied to that stupid officer, he probably couldn't have cared less about her goddamn visa status. But honestly, even though she felt horrible for lying to him, it was better than being dragged down to the Ministry to be questioned about Soren and Lord Kent. She was lucky she'd managed to talk her way out of it.

The good news was that almost no one knew who she was or that she'd taken that job, so unless Lord Kent specifically brought her name into it— and she hoped he'd have enough discretion not to—no one would be looking for her. Or at least they wouldn't have if she'd dragged herself into things by showing up at St. Mungo's. You idiot! Why did you go there! She just had to hope no one would put the pieces together anytime soon.

It felt like all of her problems were just compounding now, and first and foremost she needed to find somewhere to go where she could lay low for a while. It would be a last resort, but she knew if she absolutely had to, she could always go home to Quebec. Although facing her parents at this point would be difficult. Not to mention that the loans she'd taken out would mean at some point, they'd probably all be out on their asses anyway. She cringed thinking about it.

Why do you have to fuck everything up! Tears poured down her face as she stared out the window, wishing she could go back in time and do so many things differently.

She wiped her face with a napkin, but as the tears continued to fall, she got up and rushed to the washroom, not wanting to make a scene inside the cafe. After locking the door, she cast a quick silencing spell and finished crying it all out before splashing some cold water on her face and attempting to clean herself up.

When she was sure her face was looking nearly back to normal, she fixed her hair, gave herself a quick pep talk and walked back to her chair, snatching a discarded newspaper from an empty table as she passed by. She looked up briefly once she was sat at her table, feeling a bit self-conscious, but Frank was busy putting away cups and the few customers scattered around the cafe were engaged on their laptops or with books and no one was looking her way.

Relieved, she flipped through the pages of the newspaper until she landed on the classifieds, think maybe she could find a cheap bedsit or flat somewhere nearby for the next few weeks. It wasn't a foolproof plan, and she'd have to find a job, but with all of the students around, she was sure she could find something, maybe even do a little tutoring.

Damn, no pen. After searching through her pockets, she stood up and walked to the counter, flashing a smile at Frank. "Do you have a pen I could borrow?"

The man picked up a biro from the counter and nodded over at the classifieds laid out on her table. "Looking for a job?"

"And a flat. I'm thinking of staying for a little while if I can manage it. I love it here, and I desperately need a change of scenery."

"Well, I don't know if you'd be interested, but I've been looking for some help at the cafe. Can't pay you much beyond minimum, but the hours are flexible." Frank had seen her worrying and crying a few times now at the cafe, and although he had no idea what she had going on in her life, she seemed like a nice girl with nowhere to go, and an extra pair of hands wouldn't go amiss.

"Really? What would you need me to do?"

"Making coffees, running the till, maybe some washing-up and basic tidying at the end of the day. I'm getting a bit old to be doing it all around here, I could certainly use the help."

Marie smiled. "That would be perfect, I can do that."

"And if you need it, there's a small flat above the shop. Nothing fancy, mind ye, just the basics, but if you stay there you'd be able to open and close for me sometimes. The missus used to do it all around here, but she's not been well and I hate leaving her alone all day."

"That's really kind, Frank, but I'll be honest, I don't have a lot of money at the moment, so I'm not sure if I can afford it. How much is the rent?"

He waved his hand as if he were offended. "I'll show it to you, if it works, we can sort that out later, but if you put in part-time hours at the cafe it'll be more than enough. Might need a bit of dusting and cleaning, no one's been there in months. Haven't been bothered to look for anyone since the student moved out at the end of last term."

Frank called over to the girl making the pastries in the kitchen. "Mind the till for a moment, love. I'll be right back."

He undid his small apron and set it on the counter. "Follow me, we'll take a wee look. If it's not good enough for ye, it won't hurt my feelings one bit."

Marie followed him into the back of the kitchen where there was another door and some stairs. "You can enter the stairs from a door outside as well, so if you're out it's easy enough. My wife and I are through this door here, the empty flat is at the top of the stairs."

The older man took his time, leaning heavily on the bannister as he made his way cautiously up the stairs. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small ring of keys, flipping through them slowly until he found the right one. It took a slight jiggle of the handle, but he managed to open it. "Take a look, see if it'll do ye."

The room was stark, with a simple single bed, a low angled ceiling with a tiny little window that let in some light. It was a tight space, but there was a sink, a small table and chair, and a little bathroom with a toilet and shower. Marie didn't need much more.

"The last lad had a little hot plate, and there should be a kettle in the cupboard, but I'm afraid there's no real kitchen. We never bothered to renovate it since we mostly let to students, and they seem to live off take-away anyway."

There was the tiniest hint of embarrassment in his voice at the very humble dwellings, but for Marie it was a dream come true.

"Thank you so much, this is perfect."

"I'll close up the cafe around half five today, if you want to come back by then, I'll get you a copy of the keys and let you settle in. And if you want to start working tomorrow you can."

Marie nodded. "Thank you, Frank. This is so generous."

"It's my good fortune, I've been needing the help for ages but haven't gotten around to posting the job."

She followed him back downstairs feeling renewed hope for the first time. It was only temporary, of course, but maybe this was just what she needed to start fresh again, apply for teaching jobs, and try to get her life back on track after the insanity of the past few months.

Snape had no idea how much time had passed, except that he'd had two trays of god-awful slop unceremoniously delivered to his cell, both of which he left untouched. But with no windows or clocks, it was disorienting and he could only surmise that it was some time in the early evening.

Thankfully he'd spent years of his life alone and while his current conditions were loathsome, he was not unpracticed at solitude. That said, he was beginning to feel the exhaustion and stiffness in his body from lack of sleep and the uncomfortable metal bench he'd been sitting on for hours.

He was about to close his eyes when he heard the metal locks winding and clicking, and once again, the heavy door creaked in front of him.

Snape flicked his eyes toward the open door and recognized the man immediately, taking only a moment to stand and greet him properly. "Jeremiah, it's good to see you again. Thank you for coming."

Jeremiah Dawson was a retired Auror, but he'd worked in the Ministry for years in various capacities and through several administrations. He'd been a friend of the Order, and Snape knew he'd spent the last several years as a key advisor to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic. Minerva had done well, the man had an impeccable reputation and knew the law and the Ministry politics better than anyone.

"Wonderful to see you, Severus, if not unexpected. I must say I was quite taken aback when Minerva reached out to me about your situation, but of course I told her I would do what I could to be of assistance. But it's crucial that you tell me everything. I can only help you if you're completely honest with me."

"Of course." Snape nodded. "I have nothing to hide."

Jeremiah swept his wand enveloping them in a silencing shield. "Start from the beginning. The very beginning."

Dr. Bashir had fallen asleep at her desk, surrounded by stacks papers and parchments and half a dozen open books, searching for something that would help her with the poor unidentified boy who'd been cursed. She woke abruptly with a knock on her door, taking a moment to wipe her face and sit up before she called out "Come in!"

"Sorry to bother you, doctor, I just wanted to touch base with you briefly. I think we've identified the boy."

"Come in, close the door." Healer Bashir gestured to a small couch.

"How's he doing?" Geraldine asked, any change?

"Not for the better, I'm afraid. He's been crying out in pain, requiring higher doses of sedation. I'm concerned that the curse is growing stronger, it's far too fast for him to have developed a tolerance to the potions. We're still trying to understand the source of this curse. We'll have a consortium in a few hours to work through some theories and ideas."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Where are you with the investigation? Any news?"

"We have several teams of Aurors working their way through Diagon Alley, trying to see if anyone saw him, and if so where. But we think we have an identity for him."

Healer Bashir stared, waiting for Geraldine to share the news. "And."

"I don't know what to think. Severus Snape showed up at the Ministry an hour ago, claiming it's his son, Soren."

"I beg your pardon?" Healer Bashir knew Severus quite well. They'd collaborated a few times over the years, he'd offered her advice and books, and had even brewed a few special potions for her patients over the years when she required something she couldn't get from the hospital potions stores. "Severus Snape is dead."

"Well, that's what we all believed. I even had his death records pulled from the archives— every single document was unequivocal, the man died on the 2nd of May, 1998. And yet, there he was, sitting in front of me."

"Surely not. Polyjuice, perhaps? I've never seen Ministry records be wrong."

"No idea. But according to him, he's been living under an assumed identity for the past six years. Claims he only found out about his son a few months ago when the boy's mother died. The whole story is fishy. I don't trust the man one bit."

Healer Bashir sat back in her chair. "Well, the obvious thing to start with is the paternity potion. Did you get his blood?"

"We did." She pulled out a vial of the paternity potion and a vial of Snape's blood from her robes. "I'll leave this to you, I figured you didn't anyone else touching your patient under the circumstances."

"I'll take care of that straight away. Did he tell you the boy's name?"

"Soren."

"Soren. Well, that's a start. What else do we know about what happened to him?"

"Not much. Snape claims the boy was resting in his room all day and then suddenly, at 6pm he noticed he was gone. Denied that he had anything to do with it, of course, but I think he's full of shit. He looked completely unbothered and the whole story sounded like nonsense. Didn't know the kid's birthday. Didn't have a single photo of him. Not to mention the fact he waited nearly twelve hours to report it."

"Very odd, indeed." Healer Bashir had always thought highly of Severus, professionally speaking, of course, but like everyone she'd heard rumors about his dark past, and even if she'd been impressed with his skills and intellect, he'd never been particularly warm. Nonetheless, nothing about the man struck her as being capable of what had been done to Soren. Although it wasn't her place to say. She'd let Geraldine and the Aurors do their job, and she'd do hers.

"I'll let you get back to your work. If you could just send me a message when you get the results, it will be helpful for our investigation."

"Yes of course, we can do it right now if you'd like."

"Perfect." Geraldine stood up and followed Healer Bashir to the boy's room.

When they walked in the room, Soren was moving fitfully, his face contorted in a slight grimace, clearly uncomfortable despite the potions. Healer Bashir put her hand on his shoulder, touching him gently. "Shhhh, Soren, it's Healer Bashir. I can see you're uncomfortable, I'm going to give you some more medicine to help you relax and feel better."

She walked over to the cupboard and tapped it with her wand, retrieving a vial of the special pain medication that had been brewed with a strong sedative meant to keep him in a coma. "He's requiring almost twice the dose now, and far more frequently. We have one of our potioneers brewing more, but I'm concerned about the toxic effects if he keeps requiring more."

Normally she'd spell the contents of the potion into her patient, but with Soren's condition, she had resulted to injecting it, a far cruder Muggle technique but she didn't risk any spell work with him in his current state. She drew up the blue liquid into a syringe, and pushed it through the IV she'd inserted in his arm. Most of the Healers at St. Mungo's were unfamiliar with Muggle techniques and equipment, but Healer Bashir had spent time working all over the world, with muggle and magical healers, even traditional healers, and she'd amassed a range of skills that served her well in complex cases such as this.

Immediately, Soren stilled, and she ran her hand across his head gently. "Alright Soren, just rest. We're going to fix you up shortly."

When she was sure he was comfortable and deeply sedated, she pulled out a pair of scissors, lifting a small tuft of dark fur from his head, snipping it into a small specimen cup. After setting up her vials on the counter, she poured Snape's blood in first, and then sprinkled in several of the hairs.

They both waited for the potion to react. But instead of sizzling and turning gold, there was no reaction.

Geraldine spoke first. "I knew that bastard was lying."

Healer Bashir was stunned, but pressed her lips together. "Please keep me informed if you find out anything else. I'll document this in his chart."

"Thank you, doc."

"We'll round with the medical team again at 4pm if you wish to join us. I hope by then we'll have some more answers and a plan."

Geraldine stormed out the door determined to get answers while Healer Bashir tidied up the room and made notes in Soren's chart, sitting by his bed speaking to him gently. She'd have the mediwitch keep a close eye on him, but she was getting concerned that there wasn't much time left. At this rate, it was clear the curse was growing stronger and she could only sedate him safely for another day or two at most before he'd be at risk for organ failure. "I'm going to figure out what's going on, Soren. You've got a lot of people working hard for you. Just rest now."

She gave him several soothing strokes down his head and face before dimming the lights and heading back to her office with renewed determination.

AUTHOR'S END NOTE:

On the downside, nothing is fixed yet. Things are rough for EVERYONE right now and it's an absolute mess.

On the plus side, I've written out the next several chapters (and sketched a path to the end, although I don't know if I want it to end? But I got a great epilogue- maybe a second book?), and there is SOOO much good stuff ahead. So hang in there, and just know that I got you fam!

I may torture you and my characters, but hopefully you're still enjoying it! As always, I love to hear from you!