Chapter Four

In the morning both of them knew what had to happen. Harry slipped back into the clothing he had been wearing at the time of his capture and went back to the dungeon cell, just incase anyone came by. Severus slowly got dressed in his Death Eater robes and prepared the portkey that would bring them back to Voldemort. Entering Harry's cell, he bound Harry the same way as when they had arrived.

"Severus..." Harry started to say.

"Don't call me that!" He snapped.

"What?" Harry asked in surprise. Did Severus regret what they had done?

"I...I didn't mean it that way." He said in a softer tone. "If you slip up and call me that once we leave here, the Dark Lord will suspect something and everything could be lost."

"I won't slip up, I swear. Voldemort will die tonight." Harry said fiercely.

"Five minutes until the portkey activates." Severus said in a whisper. Looking down at Harry he could see the fear he was trying, and failing, to hide, deep withing his expressive green eyes. Slowly he wrapped his arms around Harry, leaning down to kiss him softly. They stayed locked in that gentle kiss for several minutes, their bodies pressed tightly together, before Severus wrenched himself away, composing himself quickly before the portkey activated.

As soon as they arrived at Voldemort's main hideout, Harry was whisked away by other Death Eaters to prepare for the ritual. Things seemed to pass in a blur as he was cleaned and dressed in a ceremonial robe of white, only catching a glimpse of Severus here and there. Before he realized it, he was being tied to an altar that had been erected in the center of a remote field, protected by wards. Voldemort slowly approached him, his wand in one hand and a dagger in the other, a smirk on his not quite human face.

"Tonight, my loyal followers, things shall take a turn for the better. At last I have the Chosen One, the Great Harry Potter, in my clutches. And this time he shall not escape. Tonight, he dies. Tomorrow, we take the ministry. The day after, the world!" Voldemort shouted to his followers. A great cheer went up from the crowd, and Harry's eyes locked on the one figure who was not celebrating. He could see the dark eyes behind the mask, and knew it was Severus.

Nagini circled around the altar as Voldemort began chanting in what Harry could only guess was Latin, and his followers formed a circle around him. Harry could feel the magic begin to swirl around the clearing. The magic was perceptively dark and evil, waiting for the innocent blood it had been promised through the ritual. Harry's blood would be sacrificed to placate the evil, to make it more controllable by Voldemort.

Voldemort slowly dragged the dagger up each of Harry's legs, then up his arms, always toward his chest, the center of his body and his magic. Harry writhed in pain as the cuts were made and his own magic was forcibly drawn to the center of his body. He could feel the heavy, oppressive dark magic surrounding them and was amazed that someone hadn't picked up on it despite the wards that were obviously protecting them. Harry's heart beat fast, his breath coming in sharp, short burst as Voldemort neared the end of the ritual. Harry prayed that the ritual needed innocent blood, or else all would be lost.

Thin lines of blood began to stain the white robe as Voldemort placed the dagger in the center of Harry's forehead. He slowly dragged it downward, barely cutting the skin, over Harry's face and throat until he reached the center of Harry's chest. Harry's heart beat fast, adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins. As Voldemort reached the height of the chant, he pulled back his arm and plunged the dagger into Harry's chest, releasing the ball of magic that had been gathering in Harry.

At that moment several things happened. Harry's magic left his body and combined with the other magic swirling around them before bouncing back into him, rather than going to Voldemort as it should have. The dark magic violently rejected Harry's blood and magic, angry that the sacrifice had been impure. The magic that had been swirling around them tighter and tighter was released, throwing the circle of Death Eaters backwards several feet. The dark clouds overhead released a powerful bolt of lightning and a long, loud clap of thunder. The lightning hit ground between Harry and Voldemort, throwing the dark wizard backward, burning both of them and disintegrating the bonds holding Harry to the alter.

After regaining his senses, Harry stumbled to where Voldemort had dropped his wand, running on autopilot. He knew what needed to be done. He pointed Voldemort's own wand shakily at the snake now circling Voldemort's prone form. A quick cutting hex and the snake's body was cut in two. Next he focused his attention on Voldemort, who was still partially stunned from the lightning since it had hit ground closer to him, almost directly under his feet. He was quickly recovering, however. Harry gathered all of his anger and hatred, toward everyone and everything, placing as much of it behind those two fateful words as possible.

"Avada Kedavra." he whispered. A bolt of what looked like green lightning shot out of the wand and straight into Voldemort's chest. He gave Harry a stunned look before falling back to the ground, motionless. Harry stared, disbelieving, at the body of his rival. It didn't last long, however, as there was a loud crash as the wards came tumbling down, and the a series of pops as people began apparating all over. The ministry had caught wind of the massive amounts of Dark Magic and sent aurors at the same time as the Death Eaters tried to escape.

Harry coughed harshly, surprised when he brought his hand away from his mouth covered in blood. Reality seemed to slam into him with massive amounts of pain, forcing him to his knees, and he remembered the dagger imbedded in his chest. A dark figure fell to its knees beside him, ripping off a mask and hood. Harry realized it was Severus as the man pushed him to lay down on his back. Brushing the hair off of Harry's forehead in a surprisingly intimate gesture, he deftly pulled the dagger out of Harry's body. He pulled out a potion from somewhere in his cloak and poured it into the wound. It began to bubble and Harry stared in amazement as the flesh began to knit itself back together.

"Drink." Severus said roughly, holding a potion to Harry's mouth. Harry drank without question. At this point he didn't care if it saved him or killed him as long as it stopped the pain.

Severus watched with fear as Harry's eyes slowly closed and he fell unconscious. Before he could check for a pulse an auror pulled him away, claiming he was under arrest.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Two weeks later, Harry woke up in the unfamiliar surroundings of St. Mungo's. He sat sharply up in bed as his memories returned, searching wildly around before realizing he was no longer on the battle field. His movements had set off alarms that sent several healers rushing into his room, and soon he was enveloped by the chaos of healers checking him over, and afterward a steady stream of well-wishers and congratulations.

"How long have I been in here?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione when they had their turn to visit.

"You've been unconscious for two weeks Harry. You really almost died this time." Hermione said, tears in her eyes. Harry's eyes widened. Two weeks? What if something had happened to Severus?

"What happened to Snape?" Harry asked.

"The Greasy Git? He's in Azkaban. They sentenced him to the kiss for Dumbledore's murder. They said he was trying to finish you off too." Ron said. Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Has it been administered yet?" Harry asked.

"No, his date for the kiss is in a couple days." Hermione answered. Harry swallowed hard and nodded, changing the subject. Soon enough Hermione and Ron were being told to leave as visiting hours were over.

Harry wasted no time in changing out of his hospital clothing. It was slightly difficult as his chest was still very tender. He noticed with disdain that a new scar had been made on his body, one that would most likely become famous as well. This new scar was also in the shape of a lightning bolt, almost identical to the one on his forehead, but larger and in the center of his chest.

Harry scowled at the new scar and changed into his clothing, sweeping out of his room and the hospital. Several healers tried to stop him, but he ignored them all. He simply told them that he felt fine and he was leaving. He had some business to attend to.

Once in the reception room of the hospital, Harry strode purposely to one of the fireplaces, flooing straight into the ministry. He didn't bother checking in with the security guard, instead sweeping through the hallways to the minister's office. Several people tried to stop him, but he brushed past them all.

"Scrimgeour!" Harry bellowed, throwing open the door to the minister's office.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, what a surprise. You're feeling better then, I assume?" the minister asked, seemingly unfazed by the furious wizard. "What brings you here today?"

"I demand that Severus Snape be pardoned of his crimes and released from Azkaban immediately." Harry said firmly.

"On what claim?" Scrimgeour asked. "The man is a Death Eater, he murdered Dumbledore. He appeared to be trying to finish you off when he was arrested. The man is clearly guilty."

"He was saving my life!" Harry hissed "If it weren't for him, I'd be dead and Voldemort would probably be making his move to overthrow the ministry right about now!" Harry shouted.

"One good act does not make up for his other crimes, Mr. Potter." Scrimgeour said.

"He spied for years, giving up his own life and happiness to save the lives of others. You have previous testimony from Albus Dumbledore himself, and I will personally back up those claims."

"That still does not make up for the murder of Albus Dumbledore. The public will be outraged. They have been calling for Dumbledore's murderer to be captured, and now they finally have him." Scrimgeour said. Harry was almost wishing Fudge was still the minister. He would have been so much easier to intimidate.

"I have never cared what the public thought, but you, on the other hand, do." Harry said slyly, his eyes narrowed. "Release Severus Snape or I will publicly speak out against the ministry. I will do exactly the opposite of what you wanted me to do back in sixth year."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Potter?" Scrimgeour asked, fixing Harry with a calculating stare.

"Yes." Harry hissed, staring him in the eye. Finally Scrimgeour looked away, and Harry knew he had won.

"I suppose, if you are willing to take full responsibility for the man, an agreement can be reached." Scrimgeour sighed finally, sensing that Harry would not let this matter go. Harry nodded his head and soon he was filling out piles of paperwork to get Severus released.

A few hours later Harry was furiously sweeping down the halls of Azkaban prison. He found himself immensely glad that most of the Dementors were gone from the prison, only a dozen or so were left after the rest joined with Voldemort and were destroyed. He stopped short at one of the cells, ordering a nervous auror to open the door. He dismissed the man and slowly walked toward the back of the cell where a lone figure was huddled in the corner.

"Severus?" Harry asked, kneeling beside the man. His robe was the same one he had been wearing when Harry last saw him, the voluminous black Death Eater robes, slightly torn and splattered with what Harry realized was his own blood. Severus was sitting in the far corner of the cell, his back to the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. His head was bowed and his hair fell forward to block his face from view. There might not be many dementors left, but the few that remained had certainly taken their toll on Severus.

Harry had never seen the man look so weak or defeated, and it pained him greatly to see the proud man reduced to this. He reached out a shaking hand to brush back the curtain of black hair, desperate to see his eyes, to see if there was still some hope, some life left in those beautiful orbs. Severus looked up slowly when he felt Harry touch him, and the green eyed wizard let out a sigh of relief when the black eyes met him with a glint of anger.

"You promised you'd keep me out of Azkaban, Potter." Severus sneered, his voice a bit gruff.

"I was a little preoccupied with the gaping hole in my chest." Harry replied, his voice breaking slightly as he held back tears of both joy and sorrow. There was silence for a moment before Severus reached up, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair and pulling his head down until their lips were millimeters apart.

"Next time I won't be so forgiving." he whispered before kissing Harry. It was chaste, barely more than a bush of lips, but somehow it felt so much more intimate than anything they had done before. The hands in Harry's hair traveled down his neck and back, pulling Harry closer to the dark figure as his own arms wrapped around Severus in a desperate hug. He had no idea how to express his fleeting, fledgling emotions in words, but Severus understood. The way he clung to Severus, silent tears running down his face told Severus everything Harry could not put into words, even the things Harry himself didn't quite understand yet.

"Let's get out of here." Harry whispered once he had calmed himself down. Severus nodded slightly, allowing Harry help him to his feet and keep his slender hand clasped tightly in Harry's more calloused one as they walked out of the cell and out of Azkaban for good.