Witness

It was a dreary day. The first snow of the season had come early, and the wintry sun cast a gray light outside Snape's window that made the street look dull and dingy. Snape stood with arms clasped behind his back, his eyes roaming over the gloomy scene. The Floo-call had not come as a complete surprise...Lucius liked trophies, and Snape had no doubt a naked and pliable Harry Potter was the biggest one in his collection. It was only a matter of time before the wily wizard figured out why Harry had not returned.

A cloaked figure rounded the corner, and Snape tensed. At least the blond wizard had the good sense not to Apparate directly onto the front steps of Snape's home.

"Welcome, Lucius," Snape said as he opened the door to allow the other wizard inside. He paused to give Lucius the opportunity to swat the dusting of snow from his heavy cloak and sneer at his surroundings before he continued in a pleasant tone, "And to what do I owe the rare pleasure of your visit?"

"As if you didn't know," Lucius spat. "Where is he?" he demanded, sweeping into the room.

Amusement tugged at the corner of Snape's mouth, although there was nothing amusing about the situation other than Lucius' pompous performance. Snape took his time closing the door and turning around, before he answered the question.

"Upstairs, asleep in the bedroom."

"Your bedroom?"

"His bedroom," Snape emphasized. "I told you, Lucius, my interest in the young man is strictly altruistic."

Lucius snorted...a gesture incongruous with his elegant facade. "You speak as if I don't know of your proclivities. Tell me, Severus, how many men have you had under you, naked and panting, calling you master and begging for mercy?"

"Only those who were willing," Snape drawled, sinking into one of the plush chairs and gesturing for Lucius to take a seat.

Lucius chuckled. "Are you saying that Harry has spurred your advances?" he taunted, carefully arranging his robes as he took the proffered seat.

"I said no such thing, only that there have been no advances to spur."

"If that's the case, then all the more reason for you to relinquish him to me."

"I think I'd rather not do that," Snape said softly.

Lucius expression turned ugly, all pretence of civility forgotten. "You're making a big mistake, Severus. Hand the boy over and walk away while you still have the chance," he hissed.

Severus managed to maintain his nonchalant demeanour, but the wand concealed inside the sleeve of his robe felt suddenly heavy.

"Your threats are empty, Lucius. You have as much at stake in this as I do, if not more."

Snape's words seemed to give Lucius pause, but not for long. A vicious smile twisted the blond wizard's features.

"Do I? You seem to be labouring under the misassumption that anyone will care to listen to what you have to say. If what you say is true, Harry himself has no recollection of any allegations you may have against me. I, on the other hand, my dear Severus, have all the proof I need to send you to prison for the rest of your miserable life. Think about it: who will be there to protect poor Harry when you're rotting in Azkaban?"

"You'll be dead before I set one foot in Azkaban," Snape threatened with unwavering conviction, having no more intention of going to Azkaban than he did of turning Harry over to Lucius.

But Lucius only laughed. "Perhaps, but that will have changed nothing. You see, I've made provisions, and the Horcrux hidden in my vault will guarantee that you have one dreadfully long existence in which to answer for your crimes. Eternal life is only a benefit if that life is worth living, Severus."

Snape blanched. It had never been his intention to live forever, only long enough to see the Dark Lord defeated. The Horcrux he had created after killing the headmaster should have been destroyed once Harry was victorious, and it would have been had he not needed Lucius' help to carry out his plan. Snape had always known one day the treacherous wizard would use the artefact against him, just not like this.

"You would... over Harry?" he asked, incredulous. In his present condition, the boy hardly seemed worth so much of Lucius' trouble.

"Over honour, Severus, the honour that Harry Potter and his cohorts took from me!"

Revenge, a worthy pursuit in Snape's mind, suddenly took on a frightening significance, but he dismissed Lucius' overblown bout of self-righteousness with a casual wave of his hand.

"The boy only did what he was meant to do. He saved your son's life and probably yours, and has paid dearly for it. It was never about you, Lucius."

Reason was not to prevail this time...apparently Lucius drew no divisive line between honour and pride. "He humiliated me and took great pleasure in it," Lucius hissed, "and I will not be satisfied until I've claimed every drop of blood, sweat and come than I can extract from him."

A muscle twitched at Snape's temple, and his fingers flexed almost imperceptibly, but his expression remained unchanged.

"Get out," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Lucius rose to his feet, and for one insane moment the thought of killing the wizard where he stood fleeted through Snape's mind.

"I see you're going to need some time to consider your options." Lucius threw the cloak over his shoulders and hurried to the door. "Don't take too long. We both know I'm not a patient man," he added on his way out.

Snape remained immobile, the sound of the slamming door reverberating in his ears. After a moment, he left his chair and headed to the study to do some thinking and for a much needed glass of scotch.

The Weasleys always took care of their own, and Harry had mentioned the Granger girl...she was smart, and had always struck Snape as loyal and trustworthy, if insufferably conceited. With the right information, they should be able to take care of Harry. All Snape had to do was convince the stubborn boy he would be better off with them...getting Harry out of the way would clear the path for Snape to deal with Lucius.

His decision made, Snape marched to his desk in the study. He produced two clean pieces of parchment and a quill, dipped the quill into the inkwell and began to write. The first letter was addressed to Mrs Hermione Granger-Weasley, the other to Dr Elkwood, Chicago, Illinois, USA. A few hours later, after he had dispatched the letters, he went to wake up Harry.

Harry was not in his bedroom. The kitchen and the living room were also empty. A search of the entire house yielded no result. With a growing sense of apprehension, Snape raced to his bedroom. There, resting comfortably on his pillow, lay a folded piece of parchment. Snape picked it up with unsteady fingers, and his eyes darted over the smudged letters:

Dear Snape,

Harry

The parchment slipped from his fingers and seemed to take forever to reach the floor. Snape muttered an incantation, and a string of shimmering-blue materialized next to it. The tracing spell guided Snape out of the bedroom, down the stairs and across the living room, before it disappeared beneath the front door. Snape could have followed it all the way to Harry, but there was no need: he already knew where it would lead. With a whispered oath, Snape tossed a handful of Floo-powder into the fire place and stepped into the green flames.

~*~

Like its owners, Malfoy Manor had a way of weathering adversity and looking all the more splendorous for it. Narcissa was rarely at home these days, and Draco was long married and travelling abroad with his wife, or so Lucius claimed. Snape followed a house-elf through the maze of gilded corridors to an unfamiliar wing of the house, where they reached a set of large double-doors. The doors opened, and Severus gaped in horror at the scene that greeted him.

He stepped into the room and whispered a single word..."Harry."

Harry dangled by his thin wrists from the ceiling, and the orange glow from the fireplace illuminated his abused and naked body in a stark display. Rivulets of blood decorated his arms from where the shackles had sawed into his flesh, to the sparse hair of his armpits. Lash marks crisscrossed his bruised torso, accentuated by glittering, silver needles that seemed to attempt to hold the skin together where it had split, and his thighs...Oh, God, his thighs! The young man's drooping head lolled gently, and his dishevelled hair obscured his features.

Rage surged inside Snape, and his black eyes glinted when they travelled to the other wizard in the room.

Lucius was leaning against the mantle, a glass of brandy cradled between his pale and bloodstained fingers.

"Now you may have him," Lucius stated calmly. "And this, too," he added.

A small object skidded across the floor and came to rest against Snape's booted foot. The innocuous-looking ring...the headmaster's ring...caught the light from the fire and sparkled.

Snape vacillated, torn between his thirst for vengeance and the cooling draught of good sense. Lucius was relinquishing Harry along with the Horcrux...Snape could take them both and walk away. Conversely, he could kill Lucius and still take Harry and the Horcrux. The latter seemed like a win-win proposition, and Snape's lip curled into a derisive sneer. He reached slowly for his wand, but hesitated when Lucius made no move to stop him.

A low moan from Harry disrupted Snape's train of thought. The boy was dangling from the ceiling and in obvious discomfort. Using his wand, Snape deftly loosened the shackles. Harry's body crumpled, but Snape was there to catch him. At that moment Snape realised the disadvantageous position in which he had placed himself. He felt his wand fly from his hand, and suddenly he was staring up at the tip of Lucius' twelve inches of Elm wood. With an enraged growl, Snape tossed Harry out of the way and dived for his wand: the curse hit him on the back before he could reach it, and Snape screamed in agony at the burst of pain that exploded inside his body.

~*~

Harry awoke at St. Mungo's...the dull walls and starchy sheets were beginning to feel like home for him. The usual faces swam before his eyes: Ginny's expression cheerless, Ron's expectant, Molly's stern. Hermione stood away from the others, her teeth chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

No one spoke, until Ginny rose and headed for the door. "I'll summon the Healer," she muttered. Molly accompanied her, and a glare from Hermione sent Ron scurrying after them. Hermione slowly approached the bed, and uncertainty grew around Harry like Devil's Snare...suffocating.

"I received a letter from the Muggle-born psychiatrist you contacted in the United States; he says he'll be happy to take on your case as soon as you're ready, and that all arrangements have been made for your accommodations at the clinic."

What doctor? What clinic? "I didn't contact any doctor; I don't know what you're talking about," Harry whispered with some effort.

Hermione smiled. "I know."

She held a piece of parchment in her hand, but it was not a letter from any unknown doctor. The spiky handwriting was the same familiar script that had viciously scarred every single one of Harry's Potions essays during his six years at Hogwarts. He strained to read the content of the letter and failed.

"My glasses...I don't..."

"Dear Mrs Granger-Weasley," Hermione began. "It is in great distress over Harry's well-being and dire need that I appeal to you for assistance. I have endeavoured to care for Harry to the best of my abilities, but unforeseen circumstances have intervened, and I'm forced to now relinquish this responsibility to you.

I must warn you that there are those who will seek to take advantage of Harry's tenuous mental state to do him harm. All precautions must be taken to prevent Lucius Malfoy from gaining access to Harry's person..."

"Oh, God...Malfoy!" Harry groaned, and struggled to sit up.

Hermione stopped reading and placed a calming hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, Malfoy is dead," she informed him.

The new information took a minute to penetrate the layers of fog that clouded Harry's mind, but once there, it spurred a flurry of questions, none of which he could articulate.

"How...when? He...he..." Harry stammered.

"No one really knows. Aurors were called to his home in the middle of the night. They found Malfoy dead with not a mark on him, killed by his own wand, and you unconscious and...in bad shape. One of his house-elves was also dead."

Harry's mind reeled with fragments of memories: Apparating to Malfoy Manor with the intention of telling Lucius he could have him, if he would leave Snape alone; unbearable pain and humiliation with no end in sight; slipping into unconsciousness only to awaken to more pain and Malfoy's insidious taunting; and then Snape's voice whispering his name. He didn't remember anything after that, but he was certain that Snape had been there...Snape must have managed to kill Malfoy and get out of there before the Aurors arrived.

"What about Snape?" he asked in a tired voice.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know," she said. Her eyes grew wide suddenly. "Harry, was Snape there?" she whispered urgently.

Harry nodded.

"Harry, the Aurors are going to want to speak with you; they suspect that the Killing Curse was cast on Lucius...if they find out that Snape is alive and that he had anything to do with Malfoy's death..."

Harry shrugged. "I don't remember. I only thought I heard him say my name, but I never really saw him, I don't think. Have you told anyone?"

Hermione shook her head emphatically. "Snape asked me in his letter not to tell."

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching quickly.

"Good. Keep it that way," Harry said.

"There's one more thing," Hermione said in a rushed whisper. "This was inside the pocket of your robes when they brought you in. I recognized it and took it before anyone else noticed it. Harry, is it what I think it is?"

Harry looked at the large, gold ring that Hermione pressed into his hand. He couldn't remember putting on his robes after Malfoy had torn them from his body, and why would Snape make good his escape and leave his Horcrux behind with Harry? The room suddenly filled with people, and Harry quickly hid the ring between the folds of his blanket.