The world was a blur of voices and flickering wandlight.

Harry wasn't sure when the shouting started. It melted into the distant ringing in his ears, like a storm pounding against a thick windowpane. He felt weightless no, heavy sinking into something cold and sticky beneath him. Every breath scraped his lungs like broken glass. Limbs didn't move when he asked them to.

He blinked slowly. A flash of red hair, the glint of silver. Someone yelling his name.

"Harry he's here, I've got him!"

Hermione. That was Hermione.

Then others. Boots thundered against the floorboards above. Spells cracked. The floor shuddered. More yelling angrier now. A curse fired too close, sending splinters into the wall.

Harry wanted to warn her. He wanted to say run, or don't let them take you too, but his lips wouldn't part. He tried to lift his head, but the darkness pulled harder.

"Bloody hell," someone muttered. "What did they"

"He's barely conscious."

"Is he breathing?"

A hand brushed against his wrist. Gentle, trembling.

"He's ice cold"

"Clear the hall. Get him out. Now."

That voice. Low. Controlled. Cold as the dungeons. Harry's sluggish thoughts stirred. Snape.

He wanted to fight. Snape wasn't supposed to be here Snape couldn't be trusted.

But something else broke through. Something steadier. The memory of fingers untangling the ropes around his wrists. A whispered "You must survive."

Hands lifted him. The jolt sent a wave of nausea twisting through his stomach. He gasped, a dry, cracked sound. Someone swore.

"Keep him upright," a softer voice said Lupin, maybe. "His ribs Merlin he's bleeding from"

Hermione was still beside him. He could feel her hand gripping his tightly, anchoring him to the now. It hurt, but in a good way. Real.

"We've got you, Harry," she whispered. "You're safe now."

Safe.

It didn't feel real. The manor, the screams, Bellatrix's laughter it all clung to him like smoke. Had it really stopped?

He caught a glimpse of Snape as they carried him down the stairs black robes, tense jaw, wand raised in one hand. There was blood on his sleeve, someone else's maybe. His eyes flicked to Harry for only a second. Calculating. But not cold.

Protective?

Harry didn't know what to believe anymore.

They were out the front door. Cold air hit his face like a slap, and for a second, he almost welcomed it. He heard Hermione sob. Someone else shouted for a Portkey.

His vision tunneled, the darkness rushing back.

But just before it swallowed him, a whisper pierced through the storm in his mind:

"You weren't supposed to survive that," Snape murmured under his breath, just for Harry to hear. "And yet... here you are."

The world tilted sideways.

Harry couldn't tell if he was lying on the floor or floating just above it. Cold seeped into his skin, thick and cloying like fog. His eyes fluttered open for a heartbeat and caught a sliver of light above a shattered window, moonlight bleeding in through the glass.

Then darkness again.

Where's Hermione…?

The pain returned in pulses. His body was a map of bruises and burns. Each breath caught in his throat like broken shards of something sharp and wrong. Somewhere far away, someone screamed. He wasn't sure if it was him.

Wood groaned overhead. Boots thundered down the corridor.

"Hermione!" someone shouted. "Did you find him?!"

"I've got him!" she called back, voice trembling. "I found him...he's...he's not...oh God...Harry, stay with me, please"

Warm hands on his face. Hermione's hands. He wanted to tell her he was trying. He really was.

Don't cry, he wanted to say. I'm still here.

More voices filled the hallway now, louder, urgent, snapping orders over the crackle of spells being fired.

"Stunners watch the flanks!"

"Get to the stairwell! They're coming up!"

Spells lit the walls in bursts of red and green. Harry winced as a jinx cracked against the wall nearby, showering them with dust and splinters. Hermione flung herself over him protectively.

"We have to move!" she sobbed.

Then: "I've got him!" another voice shouted over the chaos.

Lupin. Familiar and steady. He dropped to his knees beside Hermione, his face drawn and pale. His eyes scanned Harry in a heartbeat taking in the bruises, the blood, the too-sharp ribs beneath the torn shirt.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

Kingsley's voice rang out from below. "Back hallway's clear we need to go now!"

Lupin nodded once and slid an arm beneath Harry's shoulders. Harry gasped at the contact sharp pain flaring up his spine. His head lolled sideways, vision swimming.

"I've got you," Lupin murmured. "Hold on, Harry. Just hold on."

As they lifted him, his stomach twisted violently. He retched dryly against Lupin's shoulder, his body too empty for anything else. Hermione reached up to steady his head, brushing damp hair from his forehead.

"You're okay," she whispered. "You're safe we're getting you out."

Safe…

He wasn't sure what that meant anymore.

Down the stairs, curses still flew. A howl rang out inhuman and guttural. Fenrir.

Harry tensed involuntarily, a strangled noise escaping his throat. The hands holding him tightened.

And then a voice sharp and commanding cut through the chaos like a blade.

"Sectumsempra!"

A cry of pain.

Harry's eyelids fluttered open. Just ahead of them in the hall, robes billowing like a shadow peeled from the wall Snape.

Snape stood over a crumpled Death Eater, wand raised, eyes burning with quiet fury. He turned slightly as the others reached him, gaze flicking to Harry for a moment that felt like forever.

He said nothing.

But he stepped aside.

And covered their retreat.

"Move!" Kingsley barked as the front door blew open in a burst of light. "GO!"

Lupin and Hermione half-dragged Harry across the threshold. The night air hit like ice, shocking his skin. Harry coughed again, wheezing. Hermione gripped his arm tighter, murmuring something soft he couldn't understand.

Snape was the last out, casting a ward behind them before disappearing into the shadows. The ground under Harry's feet vanished someone had activated a Portkey.

Everything twisted.

They landed hard in a heap at Grimmauld Place.

Harry hit the floor with a groan, unable to brace himself. Pain exploded through his side. He couldn't even cry out properly. The room spun wildly bookshelves, firelight, familiar stone walls and then Hermione's face hovering over his.

"Harry. Harry, please look at me."

He tried.

Her eyes were rimmed red, her hands trembling as she wiped blood from his jaw.

"He's going into shock," someone said urgently Molly, he thought. "Get the blankets, now. We need to warm him."

Snape was there, suddenly at his side, wand already in motion. He pressed two fingers to Harry's throat, checked his pulse, then began murmuring incantations in low, rapid Latin.

"Internal bleeding," he said coolly. "Left side. Fractured ribs. Concussion. Possibly worse."

He flicked his wand again, casting diagnostic spells that lit Harry's chest in eerie blue light. The pressure shifted, something cracked back into place, and Harry gasped sharply.

"Stay with us," Lupin said, kneeling on Harry's other side. "You're safe now, Harry. You're home."

That word again.

Safe.

He didn't feel safe. Not yet.

But he felt something else.

Not alone.