The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hey everyone! Sorry I have kept you waiting so long for another chapter! School has been truly ridiculous this semester. Next weekend I have an 8-10 page research paper to write, so I knew that if I was going to get a new chapter out as soon as possible, it had to be this weekend. Sorry to leave you all on such a cliffhanger! I hope this chapter satisfies you for a bit, at least, until I can get a new one out to you :) I hope you enjoy it!


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 23: The Savior.
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Bang, bang, bang.

There came several loud knocks on the front door. Snape, seated at his kitchen table, raised his head up from his tea and reading, looking thoroughly discontented. Who the bloody hell could be calling at this hour? And in this neighborhood, especially. As far as he knew, most of the homes on his street had been deserted for years. He sat idle for a few moments, mentally debating whether or not to bother answering the door. It was probably just some bothersome Muggle who had gotten lost; barely anyone in the magical community, save for a select few, would know where to call on him outside of Hogwarts. What reason could any of them possibly have to be calling on him so urgently without first Owling him about it?

Bang, bang, bang.

The knocks came again, louder this time. Whomever was at the door, Snape realized, was truly desperate. If it had simply been a lost Muggle, as he at first presumed, they probably would have left when they received no answer to their first knocks. Someone had definitely come to see him intentionally. Whatever those intentions might be, however, were a mystery.

Bang, bang, bang.

He barely had time to think before the slamming on the door intensified. With a heavy sigh, he rose from his chair, leaving his half-finished tea and reading at the table. With a few long-legged strides, he was in the sitting room; a room which greatly resembled a dark, padded cell, with threadbare furniture, walls lined with overflowing bookcases, and a dim, candle-filled lamp hanging from the ceiling. As he strode across the room, he quickly reached inside his robe to feel for his wand. It was an old habit, one that would probably never die; he would never be caught answering the door without it.

Reaching the door, he quickly reached for the handle and flung it open, situating himself in the center of the door frame, arms crossed, expression extremely sour, and ready to berate his interloper.

His expression quickly soured even more when he took stock of the young, untidy-haired, bespectacled man standing before him. This was the last person he ever expected to have pounding on his front door late in the evening.

"Potter?" it slipped from his mouth automatically, mostly full of confusion rather than dislike.

In the next instant, his eyes shot open wide when he realized the entire scope of what he was looking at; there stood Potter on his front doorstep, beaten and bloody, his clothing ragged, and his eyeglasses damaged. With an arm draped over his shoulder, being supported by him entirely, was the girl, unconscious, and looking even more worse for wear than Potter was. Both of them looked extremely pale, but the girl more so.

Harry looked up at him, his expression pleading. He barely knew what to say to this man with whom he shared such a turbulent and painful past. He could do little more than stand there, struggling to support Sarah's unconscious weight, and hoping with all of his might that Snape would be able to help her. As he looked up at Snape, however, Snape was not looking back at him; instead, Harry saw as Snape's deep, black eyes raked over the girl's battered and injured form. Harry's heavy breathing stilled in his throat for a moment when he caught in Snape's eyes a glimpse of that same soft, hidden vulnerability that he had seen on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, when Snape had been about to die... or so he thought.

Suddenly, Snape stepped aside, his expression serious.

"Inside," he said.

Harry, breathing a huge sigh of relief, dragged Sarah over the door's threshold and into the sitting room. Before he had even taken three labored steps forward, the door was slammed loudly behind him and locked. Snape then came sweeping before him again, where he waved his wand at the large threadbare sofa in the center of the room. The back and side cushions leapt off onto the floor in no particular arrangement.

"Set her down," Snape ordered before Harry even reached the sofa. Snape watched as Harry began slowly lowering Sarah to lay on it. A fear unlike any other he had felt in recent history gripped Snape cold when he saw the widening extent of the girl's injuries, which had mostly been obscured by Harry's body supporting her. Her robes were even more ragged and torn than Harry's. Bright, crimson blood was dripping down her pale skin in places. The robes on her right shoulder were punctured and darkened; she was bleeding there too. As Harry set her down completely, Snape could see that the back of the boy's own shoulder, where he had been supporting the girl, was darkened with her blood.

Snape rushed forward to where the girl lay, hesitant to even lay a trembling hand on her injured form. He looked far more pale than usual.

"Potter!" he snapped, waving his wand blindly at the wall off to his right. Harry flinched out of habit when Snape waved his wand, watching as a secret door opened to reveal a narrow, darkened staircase leading upwards. "Second door on the left, potion cabinet. Small green bottle, Essence of Dittany. Small red bottle, Blood-Replenishing Potion. Go!" he commanded, not even looking up, and barely sparing words as he examined the girl.

"Right," Harry supplied, running toward the narrow staircase. He thundered up its steps in just a few strides, the wood creaking noisily beneath his feet. The narrow upstairs hallway was extremely dark. Harry immediately drew his wand, flinching in pain as he did so. In his rush to get Sarah to help, and now to obey Snape's commands, he had all but forgotten about his own injuries. They stung painfully, but he supposed that he could forget about them for at least a little while longer.

"Lumos!" he said, his wand illuminating the hallway. He paced forward quickly, locating the second door on the left that Snape had indicated for him. Opening it, he discovered a small closet. In a normal Muggle home it would probably have been used as a linen closet, but in Snape's home, it was stocked floor to ceiling with a dizzying amount of potion bottles. Harry scanned the shelves with his wandlight, the many bottles glinting brightly. Most of them were completely covered in dust; they must have been quite old.

Several small red bottles labeled Blood-Replenishing Potion caught his eye almost instantly, and he grabbed one up. The small green bottles that Snape had described, however, proved harder to locate amongst a myriad of other bottles in dark colors. After a minute or two of searching, he finally found a small grouping of dark green bottles labeled Essence of Dittany. Grabbing one, he dashed back down the hallway toward the stairs, not bothering to shut the small closet's door.

Harry bounded back down the staircase in a few leaping strides, setting the bottles down on the side-table next to the arm of the sofa, near where Snape was kneeling and examining Sarah. He then moved around to the other side of Snape for a better view, wringing his hands nervously and failing to notice the slickness of his own blood upon them.

Suddenly, Snape's hands went to Sarah's chest, roughly ripping away her robes and shirt to expose her injuries. Harry winced and looked away in consideration for her, and also out of fear that Snape might not enjoy Harry looking at her either. He hadn't expected Snape to look up at him just then.

"Come on, Potter," Snape said harshly with a roll of his eyes, now looking up at Harry with a glare, "This is hardly the time for modesty. What made this?" he asked impatiently, motioning to the injury on Sarah's shoulder which resembled a gunshot wound.

Harry opened his eyes and looked back at Sarah, examining the wound. He thought hard for a moment and remembered what had produced it; he had seen a strange streak of yellow light which had struck Sarah in the right shoulder.

"I don't-- I'm not sure, I--," Harry stammered. He had heard no spoken incantation, and he had never seen a spell like that before. "I don't know what spell it was, but it was a streak of yellow light that hit her in the shoulder."

Snape did not reply. He looked back down at the girl, raising his wand to the wound on her shoulder. He then began muttering what sounded like a counter-curse. Harry watched in amazement as the terrible wound began to fade and heal with astonishing quickness. Harry dare not ask, but he could guess what this must have meant; Snape knew whatever horrible spell had produced this wound, and therefore knew its counter-curse.

After the wound had faded, Snape moved on to the girl's arms. The bleeding slashes there had clearly been produced by a Sectumsempra, or a similar spell. He artfully performed the counter-curse, murmuring precise words that sounded like song. Harry had not seen, but she had also been slashed a few places on her torso as well, and Snape made quick work of the wounds. Only faint lines remained, as if the wounds had healed naturally over a long period of time.

When Snape had finished healing the gashes on her right arm, he paused suddenly, eyes widening.

"This," Snape demanded, taking the girl's forearm in his hand and raising it up so that Harry could see her exposed wrist. "What is this?"

Harry leaned forward, perplexed. When his eyes fell on what Snape was referring to, his eyes widened as well; there upon the underside of her wrist, a little larger than a two pence, was a bright red marking. Harry leaned in closer for a better look. The strange symbol resembled an eight-pointed star. Eight different lines diverged from the center point, each tipped with an arrow. It looked as if it had been branded into her skin.

"I have no idea," Harry replied honestly, shaking his head back and forth. Unconsciously, he touched his own scar with his fingertips as his mind raced, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. Aside from himself, he had never seen strange markings appear on people's skin before.

Snape ran his thumb over the marking a few times. There was no blood, and it did not seem to be causing her any apparent harm. He had no idea what in the world it could be, and with more pressing injuries to attend to, he was forced to forget about it for the time being. He replaced the girl's arm at her side.

Harry was relieved that Snape had made so much progress so quickly on her, but she still looked extremely pale. He was not surprised when the next action Snape took was to grab the small red bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion. He un-stoppered it and gently tilted Sarah's head back, putting the small bottle to her lips. He was able to carefully get several drops of the potion into her mouth before he stoppered it and set it aside again. He then moved on to examining her other wounds.

Snape eyed the gashes across her collar bone nervously. It almost looked as if she had been attacked by a large animal, perhaps a dog.

"These," Snape asked sternly, "What made these?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he felt a new jolt of fear for the first time since escaping with Sarah from the Muggle neighborhood.

"Well?" Snape demanded when Harry did not respond immediately, for which he received an impatient glare.

"Greyback," Harry supplied nervously, "Fenrir Greyback clawed her."

Snape's impatient glare melted into shock and disbelief.

"That's... not possible," Snape said, his voice quiet. His quick black eyes darted across Harry's own wounds. The boy had been beaten up quite a bit himself, and probably lost quite a bit of his own blood. There must be some kind of other explanation. "You must simply be delirious."

"I'm not," Harry replied, his voice full of conviction. He then raised his right forearm and pulled back the sleeve of his robes, revealing several deep claw marks from where Greyback had grabbed him to prevent an incoming punch. "I fought him. If I hadn't tackled him off of her, she'd have gotten a lot worse than that," he said, eyeing Sarah's gashes. "There are a lot of things that Fenrir Greyback is supposed to be, but apparently dead isn't one of them anymore."

Snape's eyes, through which his feelings were often inscrutable, were now quite clearly full of fear as he examined Harry's arm. There was no mistaking it. Potter was telling the truth, no matter how absurd it sounded.

"Bloody hell," Snape said, jumping to his feet. He quickly tilted his head upward, looking at the ceiling, as if his eyes could see through it to the night sky above.

"It's not the full moon," Harry said quickly, somehow knowing what was going on inside Snape's mind.

Without replying, Snape turned and swept from the room, sprinting up the small, narrow staircase which Harry had just descended a few minutes before. Harry had never seen Snape lose his composure in quite this way. He didn't have to guess why.

As Harry stood there waiting for Snape to return, he began growing more and more aware of his own wounds, which he had thus far managed to forget for Sarah's sake. Everything was throbbing with pain, especially the marks that Greyback had left on him. He bit the inside of his lip hard, trying once again to forget. It was his usual mindset of selflessness. He would make sure Sarah was alright before he would begin worrying about himself. She had, after all, been hurt much worse than he had been. Also, if anything were to happen to her, he could probably expect to take the blame from Snape. That didn't bode very well for his health either.

A minute later, Snape returned, holding what looked to be a jar of salve. As soon as he twisted its lid open, Harry's nostrils were assaulted with its scent, and his mind was sent spinning into vivid memories of that night in the hospital wing so long ago, watching as Mrs. Weasley dabbed something foul-smelling onto Bill's wounds. Oh no... Harry immediately thought to himself, Bill.... His wounds had healed quite a lot, but to this day, he still lived with the terrible scars of his encounter with Fenrir Greyback.

Harry leaned over Sarah, his concern renewed, not even thinking about the fact that he too bore similar wounds on his arm. Snape had begun dabbing the salve onto Sarah's wounds generously, looking nervous and focused all at once.

"Is she going to be alright?" Harry could not help himself from asking.

Snape continued treating the wounds, carefully dabbing on the salve.

"They are not too deep," Snape replied, his voice having taken on a softer tone. "They might be able to heal almost fully, with time. In the worst case, there will be some scarring."

Harry nodded silently, but did not reply.

"No doubt you are thinking of the eldest Weasley," Snape conjectured, turning to glance at Harry for a moment while he treated Sarah.

Harry nodded once.

"Yes," he said, once again rolling back his sleeve to inspect his own wounds.

"These are much lesser wounds," Snape said, straightening up, having apparently applied enough of the salve. He then turned toward Harry again, inspecting his arm. "Even lesser, in your case. Sit," he said, motioning to the coffee table only inches away.

Harry obeyed without thinking, taking a seat on the unoccupied coffee table. Snape seated himself next to him.

"Agh!" Harry yelled in surprise, his arm stinging terribly. He instantly pulled it away, wincing. Snape had dabbed a bit of the salve on one of his claw marks.

Snape sighed impatiently.

"You are going to have to sit still, Potter." he said, smirking.

"Blimey," Harry sighed, holding his arm back out for Snape. He winced and hissed in pain again when he began reapplying the salve. He kept his eyes on Sarah as Snape worked, trying to avoid looking at where the pain was coming from. "Lucky she's unconscious for this bit. That really smarts."

When Snape had finished applying the painful salve, he began using the counter-curse on Harry's still-bleeding gashes. Harry sat dumbfounded through the entire process; he could never have imagined a time when Snape would be healing his wounds. Perhaps it was only out of thanks for bringing Sarah to him when she needed help so badly. Even so, Harry didn't doubt that soon he would be berated with angry questions about what he had let happen to her, and why.

When Snape was finished, he stood, picking up the small red bottle on the end table beside the sofa. He turned and handed it to Harry.

"You'll be wanting to drink at least a few drops of this," he explained.

Harry nodded and took the bottle from him. Snape's eyes were already back on Sarah. Apparently he had decided that she was stable enough to let alone for the moment, at least.

Harry took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as ever.

"She still loves you, you know," Harry said softly, standing. He flinched slightly when Snape's head instantly jerked in his direction, his expression somewhat dark.

"I don't know too much about what happened between you," Harry explained slowly, meeting Snape's eyes without fear, "But whatever happened recently, she's been miserable ever since."

For several silent moments, they stood there, only a few feet apart. Black eyes were once again locked with green. Snape didn't know what to feel; there were too many intense emotions swirling chaotically within him. He was furious that Potter had somehow let Sarah come to so much harm, and almost every fiber of his being was fighting against grilling Potter about what in the bloody hell they had been doing. At the same time, he was incredibly relieved that Potter had brought her here and that he had been able to tend to her extensive wounds with his own hands, and that she was going to be alright. This only raised further questions, however. Why hadn't Potter taken the girl to St. Mungo's? Snape would begrudgingly admit that Potter was not quite as dim as he tended to preach. There had to be a reason why he had not taken her there.

To top it all off, Potter definitely knew at least something about the goings on between them. This added to his rage. To the boy's credit, however, it had not become public scandal, so he mustn't have told anyone. Even so, after having heard that the girl had been miserable since he had thrown her out of his office, coupled with staring into those emerald green, almond-shaped eyes which so resembled Lily's, he was able to marshal his anger.

Taking a steadying breath, Snape eyed Harry's poor state again. His robes were ragged, torn, and darkened, still damp with blood. Some of the blood on his arms and hands was still bright scarlet, not having dried yet. He was extremely pale, and beginning to look unsteady on his feet. No doubt the blood loss and exhaustion from whatever fight he had managed to get himself and the girl into were affecting him. It appeared to be a miracle that he was still standing, and still staring back at him with such determination.

"Drink some of that, immediately," Snape said calmly, nodding to the small red bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion clutched tightly in the boy's hand. "You look a sorry state, Potter. Go upstairs. The first door on the right is a washroom, and the door following it is the guest bedroom. You may wash up and rest, but in the morning, I expect to hear everything, and I mean everything, is that clear?"

A wave of relief washed over Harry. Snape was allowing him to clean himself up and rest in his home, but at the cost of having to divulge everything that had happened, and why. There would be no hiding anything from him, he knew; and even if he didn't want to talk, Snape would most likely hold him down and perform Legilimency anyway. Still, Harry sighed in relief. Having to explain everything to Snape was a small price to pay for Sarah's welfare as well as his own, and a place to remain safe and recover.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely, "Good night."

Snape nodded almost imperceptibly to Harry, and then turned his attention back to the unconscious girl lying on the sofa. Harry took this as a cue that he was being permitted to leave, and he immediately moved around the coffee table, making his way back toward the hidden staircase.

As he ascended the stairs again, he carefully un-stoppered the small bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion and took a small swig of it. It didn't taste nearly as badly as he had expected it to. In fact, it tasted quite similar to blood, rich and metallic. It burned slightly on the way down, but after only a few moments, Harry felt vitality slowly returning to him and replacing the weakness and fatigue that came along with blood loss. Raising his eyebrows in appreciation at the potion's effect, he stoppered it again as he reached the top of the stairs, turning down the hallway and coming to the first door on his right.

With his free hand, he opened the door and stepped inside. In the darkness, he could dimly see the outline of the sink, and he carefully placed the bottle on its ledge before drawing his wand. A quick flick of it caused the lamps on the walls to illuminate themselves. When he had closed the door, he kicked off his shoes and proceeded to undress. While taking off his robes, something thin and papery fluttered out of his pocket, coming to rest on the bathroom's tiled floor. As soon as he was completely undressed, he stooped to grab it up. Unfolding it, he looked it over again with a heavy sigh. There, in bright red ink, were written the words,

Sarah Garrend 12 Archer Crescent, Spelthorne, Surrey

He refolded it gently and moved to the sink, where he utilized the small bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion as a paperweight, setting the piece of parchment underneath it. After carefully placing his damaged glasses on the side of the sink as well, he approached the tub and flung back the shower curtain. He started the shower's flow of water on a very hot temperature, and stepped inside while drawing the shower curtain closed. He stood with his face tilted upward into the shower's soothing spray. Snape had done an excellent job of tending his more serious wounds, but his many bruises still remained, several of which were on his face; a result of his vicious fistfight with the werewolf. They throbbed painfully as the hot water washed over them.

As Harry labored to clean all the dried blood from his body, his mind was far from his injuries. The words written on the piece of parchment that they had stolen from the Ministry's vault inside Gringotts swam in his vision, taunting him. What could it all mean? Enough had already been made clear: someone at the Ministry had known about her; her name had been hidden away with great secrecy; there was no mistaking that the Muggle family in Surrey was indeed her own family, somehow. So much continued to remain a mystery, however. How could this be possible? Sarah seemed to be under the impression that her parents had died when she was very young; that was what she had been told, and she had been too young to have any memory of them; and Sarah was most definitely from America, not from Surrey... How had this happened?

Harry sighed again, breathing in the warm, steam-filled air. Nothing added up. He knew that somehow, somewhere along the line, something had gone incredibly wrong for reasons unknown. He had hoped that their foray into the Ministry's vault would settle all of their questions. Instead, it had only raised a thousand more.

Then, Harry realized, there was the not-so-small matter of their battle. Someone had somehow known where they were going to be. Perhaps someone had been waiting there, watching the location, waiting for their arrival, but this made painfully obvious that there were more people who knew of the piece of parchment, and the words written on it. Closing his eyes, Harry pictured the scene again in his mind. The first figure to appear had insisted that they could tell Sarah what had happened, and why, if she would only listen to them; was this true? Or was this simply a lie constructed with the aim of getting Sarah to listen to them, making her vulnerable, or even perhaps to get her to leave with them? At the moment, there was no telling.

Then there was the werewolf. Fenrir Greyback was alive, and this caused a heavy, sickening feeling of dread to settle in the pit of Harry's stomach. If Greyback was alive and unaccounted for when he had been thought to be dead, had other Death Eaters, thought to be taken care of once and for all at the Battle of Hogwarts, survived in secret as well? Were there still Death Eaters out there, just as before, maliciously plotting against Harry and his loved ones? Perhaps there had been some major oversights in accounting for all the casualties in the aftermath of the battle.

Harry cranked the faucet knobs, stopping the flow of water. When he stepped out of the shower, he found fresh towels neatly folded on a rack beside it. As he dried himself off, the reality of what he was doing struck him again. He was in Severus Snape's home, taking a shower, and about to go to bed in the guest bedroom. It all seemed surreal.

When he was dry, he carefully hung the towel, and turned to the problem of bloodied and torn robes. Of course he could ask Snape for another pair, but walking about in Snape's home, dressed in Snape's robes, would be entirely too strange. He took his wand from the sink.

"Tergeo," he spoke, cleaning off some of the blood. It took several more applications of the charm to clean the robes completely. When that was finished, he patched them up as best as he could. Unfortunately, he did not know many good spells to deal with mending clothing. He would have to make it a point to ask Mrs. Weasley about this over Christmas.

He was able to repair his broken glasses with an easy flick of his wand, using the charm that Hermione had taught him so very long ago. He then donned his robes again, and with his best efforts, he supposed that they felt as much like a fresh set of robes as he could get them to. After putting out the lights, with the small bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion and scrap of parchment in hand, he left the washroom. When he opened the door on his immediate right, he flicked his wand again, causing the lamps inside to illuminate themselves.

The guest bedroom was a respectable size, but modestly furnished. There was no more than a large bed with a small nightstand, a chest of drawers, and a bare desk. Harry did not have to guess why there was such minimal furnishing; few guests had probably ever stayed in the Snape home. Still, at least it was here, and Harry had no complaints about its lack of luxury. Closing the door behind him, he immediately plunged into the bed, and set his belongings on the nightstand beside it. With a flick of his wand, the lights were extinguished.

Despite his exhaustion, it took Harry quite a while to fall asleep. After the evening's events, he could not escape the new sense of dread.

There was no denying it; the great peace that had followed the war had been shattered for him.


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Snape watched Sarah diligently throughout the night, barely leaving her side. When Harry had retired, he had carefully carried the girl up to his own quarters and placed her within his own bed. He then dragged one of his chairs to its side. There he sat patiently, watching the girl. He had dimmed his bedroom lamps so that the room was extremely dark, but still just bright enough to see. This way, he would be able to observe her, and she would be able to rest properly. He had also taken away her torn robes, carefully dressing her in a pair of his own. She looked somewhat silly dressed in his clothing as it was much too large for her, but it was better than having her remain in her own ragged and bloody attire. After re-dressing her, he had also taken care to wrap her right wrist with bandages in order to conceal the strange marking. If she were to see it immediately, it might cause her undue stress.

The girl was breathing steadily on her own. Through the night, as Snape watched her, she gradually shifted from looking as if she were unconscious to simply looking as if she were sleeping. With the potions he had given her, she had regained much of her color. She appeared perfectly fine. Still, Snape could not stop himself from checking her pulse and breathing every so often just to be sure.

It was about two hours after midnight when the girl began stirring faintly. Snape's heart skipped a beat, and he sat straight up in his chair, watching her eagerly. In truth, he ached to speak with her, but he would remain silent; there was no telling if she were actually awake, and she no doubt needed her rest.

Sarah groaned softly, shifting on the bed, slowly emerging from the hazy realm of sleep. She was sore all over. Her head throbbed. She had some idea why. The last thing she recalled was being struck by curses that had sliced her open deeply in many places. The pain had been excruciating, and it overcame her.. or so she thought. She would not find out until later what had really happened, and what she had done to her attackers.

When she recalled the terrible wounds that she had received, she gasped slightly. Her right arm immediately shot over to her left, grabbing her forearm and searching for one of the wounds. Instead of a deep cut, she found a soft sleeve. Groping her arm over, she could not feel anything. There was no pain, and no blood. Where had her wounds gone? All she could feel was a bandage wrapped around her right wrist, but there was no pain underneath it. She also seemed to be beneath a blanket. There was a pillow underneath her head. The last thing she had known, she and Harry were fiercely dueling the mysterious figures that had somehow tracked them down. How had she gotten here, wherever she was?

When she took a deep breath, her pulse quickened. She was assaulted with a very familiar scent, all around her. Could it be...?

"Where am I?" she whimpered aloud, thinking herself alone. With effort she opened her eyelids slightly. The room was extremely dark, however, and she could glean little from her surroundings.

"Safe," a familiar deep, smooth voice answered, "In my home."

"Severus?" she said, her voice only a whisper. She let her head fall to the side. There, in the room's dim light, she could see his dark outline seated next to her in a high-backed armchair.

"Yes," he replied simply, watching as her eyes scanned his form in the dark.

"Severus," she persisted, her voice very faint. Her right arm, trembling in weakness, stretched out for him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. Without you, I--"

"Shh," he shushed her softly, reaching toward the girl and brushing her hand gently with his own. "Do not worry about that now. You need to rest."

"Harry!" she rasped, and began attempting to sit up. As soon as she made a major movement, her entire body was racked with intense pain, and she found herself lying on her back once more, unable to move. "Harry, where's Harry? Is he alright?" she pleaded, letting her head fall to the side again in order to look at Snape.

"Pott--," after a fraction of a second, he corrected himself with conscious effort, "Harry is currently resting in the guest bedroom. I tended to his wounds as well as yours. Do not worry. You need to rest," he reiterated. He had given the girl quite a few potions of a medical nature, and they would work most effectively if she remained relatively sedentary for the next several hours in a resting state. Upon learning that her friend was fine, the girl seemed to relax visibly, letting her hand rest in his.

"They knew about me," she whispered after a few moments, "Someone knew, they--"

"Shh," Snape insisted again, gently placing a finger on her lips to quiet her. "We shall speak when you have rested. Please, you must rest. Rest for me. You were very badly injured."

"Okay," she whispered.

Several moments of peaceful silence passed before either spoke again, content to remain still, holding hands.

"Severus, I--," Sarah whispered at last, but hesitated, fearful of his possible response. She knew there could be no delaying it any longer. She had to say it. "Severus, I love you."

Snape's eyes widened as he looked down at the girl. Warmth was stirring within his chest. All of his anger was forgotten. How could he remain angry with her now? Somehow, tonight, he had very nearly lost another love, a blow so harsh that he was unsure of his ability to recover from it again, let alone the fact that he had never fully recovered from the first. He might have been furious with her when he threw her out of his office, but he would not lie to himself; every moment spent apart from her, watching the girl suffer in her depression and inability to fix matters between them, had been excruciating. He knew he had to stop being a stubborn fool sooner or later.

"I--," he began at last, his voice almost as quiet as the girl's, "I love you... too," came the unfamiliar words.

When he spoke them, he could tell that a bright smile spread across the girl's face. After a few more moments, her hand had gone slack in his own. She had drifted off to sleep again. He gently tucked her arm back underneath the blanket and settled back in his chair. The girl would be fine now, he was sure, but that would not stop him from watching over her until she awoke again, fully rested. The few words that she uttered before he had quieted her made him even more eager to speak with the boy. Unfortunately, Potter also had sustained a respectable amount of injury, and Snape would respect that.

Patience, ever one of his virtues, saw him through to waiting until the boy would wake up on his own.


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Harry didn't have the faintest clue how long he might have slept when he finally found himself awake. Light was streaming in through the curtained window, a clear sign that it was at least past daybreak by now. Sitting up, he groaned slightly. His bruises were still paining him; he would have to ask Snape for some kind of pain-relieving draught. It was not only pain that hit him, but hunger. His stomach felt empty, and almost ached. He must have worked up quite an appetite during their battle, followed by the strenuous effort of hauling Sarah to safety afterward. When he rose from bed and left the room, there was only food on his mind. He gave no thought to the person who was awaiting him downstairs.

When Harry made his way back down the hidden staircase into the sitting room, he stopped in his tracks. Snape was currently standing only a few yards away from him, with a brand new copy of The Daily Prophet in his hands. As soon as he became aware of the boy's presence, his eyes crept up over the edge of the paper. Snape looked none-too-pleased to see him. Harry tried to look as innocent as possible, but he knew that there was going to be no getting around him.

Wordlessly, Snape tossed the paper into Harry's arms. He didn't need to guess why. Unfolding the paper, his eyes fell upon the front page. There was a large photograph of several Gringotts personell, mostly goblins, in front of the bank's doors. Crowds of people were swelling before them in panic and curiosity, and the goblins were attempting to keep them at bay. One of them stood above the rest, up several steps, shouting something to the crowds. Above chaotically moving photograph, read the large headline,

BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS

Harry skimmed the article underneath.

Sources are reporting this morning that last night, shortly prior to the bank's closing hours, Gringotts fell victim to another break-in. The small amount of information released thus far indicates vault number four-hundred-and-eight was the target vault of the thievery, a vault belonging to the Ministry of Magic. There is no official word yet, however, on what may have been stolen. Three Ministry security personnel were present at the vault, two of whom suffered moderate injury at the hands of the thieves. The Ministry security personnel present at the vault report seeing two suspects, whose identities were obscured by means of hoods. No further specifics as to their possible identities are available at this time.

The bank's governor has issued the following statement:

"It appears that this robbery could only have been perpetrated by those with an intricate and detailed knowledge of the bank's inner workings in order to reach the vault in question without the escort of a Gringotts goblin. At the time of the incident, however, all of our employees within the bank were accounted for. Rest assured that we are investigating this matter to the fullest extent possible, and that the security of our bank is as tight as ever."

Harry stopped reading here, his green eyes shifting upward to meet Snape's. He did not even bother looking at the troubling article underneath, involving Pius Thickness' new call for an end to the current Ministry regime for its inexcusable lapses in security in the wake of the new break-in. Harry smirked at Snape in a guilty sort of way, but said nothing. He knew what was coming.

"I suppose I do not need to ask," Snape spoke, his tone wry. His arms were folded across his chest while he glared at Harry.

"I'll explain," Harry ceded, knowing full well that he had no choice. "But please, sir, I'm starving. Could I possibly--,"

Snape tilted his head sharply in the direction of the kitchen. Once Harry had followed him there, it took him only seconds to fix the boy a simple meal of toast and milk. Despite its simplicity, Harry sat down at the table and devoured it as if it were a feast, savoring every bread crumb, and drinking deeply of the milk. Once his stomach had been somewhat satisfied, he gave a grateful sigh. He looked up at Snape, who was leaning against the kitchen cabinets, arms crossed, with a mildly impatient expression on his face.

"Well, sir, I suppose I should first tell you that--," Harry began, but was promptly cut off.

"I am already fully aware that you and Sar-- Miss Garrend are responsible from stealing a small amount of Polyjuice Potion from my personal stores, which was then utilized to breach Ministry security," Snape rattled off, his tone harsh.

Harry turned red; Sarah hadn't told him anything about Snape knowing all of those particular details.

"What I do not know," Snape continued, registering the boy's air of shock, "Is why." He then looked at Harry expectantly, his glare intense.

Harry took a deep breath before attempting to explain.

"We were only trying to figure out more about Sarah, sir," Harry explained. "Nothing about her past added up. I'm not sure if you know anyth--,"

"I know everything," Snape drawled impatiently, his glare unwavering.

"Well," Harry continued, his fingers skimming the rim of his milk glass absently, "I'm sure you'll agree, then, that things sounded a little fishy."

Snape nodded once, slowly, in agreement.

"People were surely Obliviated to discreetly cover up her childhood incident of uncontrolled magic, when at the same time, she was never approached by anyone from the magical community to induct her when she was clearly known, by someone, to be a witch," he answered.

"Right," Harry replied, "So then, Hermione reckoned that if anyone had been Obliviated, there would have to be a record of it with the Ministry--,"

"So you broke into the Oblivater headquarters to find this alleged record," Snape surmised. "And what did you find?"

"Nothing, or so we thought," Harry answered with a sigh. "It looked like I had grabbed two completely unrelated files of a couple of Muggles in Surrey who had accidentally seen someone conjure a Patronus. We were devastated until we heard what the Ministry did in its wake."

Snape nodded again.

"They sent certain filings into Gringotts for extra security," he said.

"The very same filings that I had been looking in," Harry admitted. "When we heard, we knew that I mustn't have looked properly, that there must be more, something that they didn't want getting out."

"And so you foolishly decided to make the bank your next mark," Snape said, still glaring. He remained silent while he waited for Harry to continue, but his anger toward him for bringing Sarah into such dangerous situations was palpable.

"We did," Harry continued, "We went in when Sarah felt ready to," he said, glossing over the details of how they were able to gain entry to the bank's vault complex and find their way to their desired location. "It was rough, but we got out with what we were looking for... at least we thought we did." It was still difficult for him to find words. The gravity of what had transpired last night was difficult to describe.

"How do you mean?" Snape asked, eager for the boy to reach the part of his story which involved a vicious confrontation with the apparently still-alive Fenrir Greyback.

Harry reached into his pocket, withdrawing the strip of parchment that they had stolen. He placed it on the table, sliding it across the surface in Snape's direction. Snape, looking impatiently skeptical, straightened himself up and reached out, grabbing the scrap of parchment from the table and unfolding it with a flick of his wrist. When he read the words written upon it, his brows furrowed.

"What is this supposed to mean?" he asked aloud.

"I didn't see it until we got there," Harry pressed on. "When we escaped the bank, we were both fine, only a little scratched. We made it back to Hogwarts, thinking it was best to hide in the Room of Requirement where no one would find us. When we got there, though, Sarah must have taken a look at what we had stolen. She must have known what it meant. Something inside her snapped... she wouldn't even respond to me. She just stormed right back out of the castle, off the castle grounds, and Disapparated. I was only able to go with her because I tackled her mid-turn."

Snape's expression was one of confusion.

"You see, sir," Harry continued slowly, as he knew it would need time to sink in. "The address on that slip of parchment... is the same address we found on the files we stole from the Ministry."

Snape's mouth dropped open slightly in astonishment.

"Then... then that must mean...," he stumbled over his own words in disbelief.

"She took us there," Harry continued, "I found her standing in the front window of the home. I looked inside, too. They all looked like her..." his voice cracked a little, and he swallowed a large lump that had formed in his throat.

Snape remained silent, watching Harry, with the strip of parchment still open in his hand. His expression had softened considerably. To Harry, in comparison to his usual expressions, he looked empathetic, and gentle. It was strange to see him that way.

"She knew what it meant, too," Harry said, his eyes now downcast at the nondescript tablecloth that he was leaning on. "She was furious. Her eyes, they... they glowed bright red. I was frightened for a moment when I saw them, but when she calmed down, she explained about them. Then she was just... well... defeated. She just sat there in the cold, staring... and then... they showed up."

"They?"

Harry nodded once before speaking again.

"Somehow, someone knew where we were," he said. "It was almost like they were waiting for us to show up there. There were six of them in all. They were all wearing hoods, and I couldn't tell who any of them were. We managed to fight them off at first, but... Sarah, she... something happened to her."

"A little more than something, I would say, judging from the extent of her injuries," Snape argued, his tone, and expression, harsh once again.

"No, I mean..." How in the world was he supposed to explain what he had seen? "She completely discarded her wand after a minute or two. Even though she got injured, by the time I could finally help her, one of the wizards dueling her had already fallen, and I saw her finish off the other two with ease."

"Without a wand?" Snape asked, leaning forward.

"Yes," Harry affirmed. "She absolutely destroyed them, but she seemed out of control. She even sent me for a bit of a ride without knowing it. We were lucky that she didn't seriously damage most of the neighborhood in the process."

Snape now looked extremely troubled. He knew that the girl had previous difficulty with fully controlling her magic, but she had seemed to improve in the months since. What the boy was telling him, however, was of a proportion he could not imagine. What could have caused this? Why now, after months of practicing how properly use magic like wizards and witches who had been doing it since childhood?

"After that," Harry continued after Snape remained silent, immersed in his own thoughts, "I thought we were finished and finally safe, but I was wrong. One of them got up and tackled her. It was Greyback." Harry's eyes met Snape's once again, to convey his sincerity. Since he was being forced to explain every detail to the man, he wouldn't have Snape doubting a single part of his story. "He took her down, but he lost his hood on the way. When I saw who it was, I must have panicked. I didn't have time to do anything but tackle him off of her before he would have caused her more injury."

Snape nodded again, his expression now neutral in a slight attempt to convey his admiration for the boy's decision on this action. It took more than a little bravery to physically take on a werewolf like Fenrir Greyback instead of pointing a wand and slinging spells from a safe distance.

"He was demented," Harry went on. "He almost looks like he's transformed now, even when he's not. He was so fast and so strong. We're lucky we got off as easy as we did from him."

"Did you kill him?" Snape demanded.

"I don't think so," Harry replied. "There was no time. I think I only knocked him out."

"And the others?" Snape demanded again, "Who were they?"

Harry shook his head negatively.

"I didn't have time to find that out either, sir," he explained patiently, for reasons that he was sure that Snape would understand. "I knew Sarah had been badly hurt. It was a choice between taking extra time to find out who they were, or getting her to you for help immediately. I think you know which I chose to do. I couldn't very well take her to St. Mungo's or Hogwarts without having to explain what happened, and that would have only gotten her in even more trouble, so I brought her here."

"I understand," Snape replied honestly. He couldn't very well argue against the boy's rationale for not deciding to reveal the identities of their attackers when Sarah's welfare was at stake.

Even though he knew Sarah was fine, he was now extremely troubled by everything Harry had told him. It was quite obvious that the mystery behind Sarah's circumstances extended far deeper than any of them had ever imagined, and it had yet to be solved. If anything, it had only gotten exponentially worse. Someone, somewhere, was plotting, for reasons unknown. New mysteries had now surfaced; who had these attackers been? What could they possibly have to gain by interfering with the girl's life? What was the origin of the scrap of parchment on which the information had been written? What could possibly be the reason behind all of this, and furthermore, what was the nature of the strange marking that had appeared upon Sarah's wrist after last night?

In the silence, both Snape and Harry sighed simultaneously, apparently sharing the same train of thought. Snape looked at the boy again, struggling within himself. He had been about to thank Harry for rescuing Sarah, despite the danger he had put her in, when someone appeared at the kitchen door.

There stood Sarah, still pale, and looking unsteady on her feet.

"Sarah," Snape said softly without thinking, rushing forward to her and supporting her with his body. It almost looked as if they were embracing, and Harry looked away.

"Severus," Sarah whispered, her voice still weak. "Harry, I'm so glad you're alright. I'm so sorry," she said, pushing in the direction of the table at which Harry sat. Snape allowed her to approach the table, still supporting her carefully.

"No, Sarah," Harry said, rising from his seat. He looked upon Sarah with warmth and sincerity, still unable to properly express his deep pain for her at what they had discovered last night. "I'm sorry. I never meant for all of that to happen to us. You might have been killed. Both of us could have been."

"Please, you must rest," Snape insisted, trying to turn Sarah back in the direction of the sitting room, where he could lead her back upstairs.

"But Harry," Sarah said, "What about the holiday? We're supposed to go to Ron and Ginny's later this week, and then--,"

Snape spoke up immediately, settling any possible trouble.

"You may stay here to recover until you are expected at the Weasley's," he said. "Both of you." Knowing that there were most likely mysterious people plotting about her, he did not want the girl to leave his sight while recovering, and he doubted that the boy would consent to leaving her behind, alone, in his custody.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely. Snape had never before been so civil to him. He had put Sarah in terrible danger, but he had also saved her from that danger... mostly. Perhaps he was at least grateful for that, and this was his way of showing it.

Harry watched as Snape slowly led Sarah back upstairs. He had been eager for his own chance to speak with her about what had happened, but he knew that she needed to rest.

When they were out of sight, he leaned against the kitchen's door frame. With Sarah under his care, Harry was, for the first time, seeing the mysterious other side of Snape in person.


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A/N: There you have chapter 23! I hope you enjoyed it. Thank goodness Sarah and Harry are going to be alright! They got beaten up pretty badly last chapter!

On another note, I notice recently that the Original Character subcategories have disappeared. This is extremely discouraging to me. On one hand, I am thinking that perhaps more readers, who would not normally seek out an OC story, will find my story. On the other hand, I am frightened that I will lose readers because people who seek out OC stories will no longer be able to find my story amidst the sea of various stories listed underneath the Harry Potter Male/female subcategories. I'm not quite sure what to feel, but on the whole, I feel a bit discouraged that my subcategory has disappeared. I am really hoping it returns.

I hate to say it, but reviews would definitely help to keep me encouraged should my subcategory not come back! I definitely don't want to stop writing my story, but I also get a lot of pleasure and fulfillment out of knowing that other people are enjoying it too.

School has been INSANE this semester. I will update as soon as possible, as always! Besides, things are drawing to a close in several weeks, and then it will be summer! Hooray! Unlimited writing time!

Again, and especially considering that my subcategory has disappeared... since I can't seem to figure out how to "un-hide" my e-mail display on the options for this site, please let me know at Raug397@yahoo.com if you would like me to add you to an update list for when I add new chapters.

As always, thank you so very much for reading. Please leave a review if you would be so kind :) Stay tuned! Some more lemony goodness is close on the horizon, I think!