This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

This story has started to plague me incessantly in the back of my mind. I had to write it to move on.

With undying gratitude to my beta Hells456 at Perfect Imagination, my sincere thanks.

As always, reviews are welcome.

The Old Walls Crumble.

Prologue.

Two dark-cloaked male figures appeared on the dark, deserted street corner leading to Spinner’s End. One leaned heavily on the other, clearly injured.

“Which way?” asked Malfoy.

An arm raised and a finger pointed the way. The pair made their way slowly to the doorway of a dilapidated terraced house. Pulling a wand from his cloak, Draco pointed it at the lock.

“Alohamora.” He waited for the door to open.

“Stupid!” exclaimed Snape, through clenched teeth. “My pocket, there’s a charmed key.”

Trying not to jostle his companion too much, Malfoy found the key and used it to open the door. Once in, he closed the door behind them immediately. The injured wizard made his way down the narrow hall, leaning his weight against the wall. He turned into the front room and stumbled to a threadbare sofa where he finally collapsed. The younger man followed him, pulling out his wand once more.

“Lumos,” he called, lighting the candles and bathing the room in a yellow glow. He looked at his professor lying on the sofa and grimaced. The wounds were still bleeding badly from the deep gashes along his ribcage and arms.

“You need help, sir. Who can I fetch to help you?” he asked, feeling helpless.

The man on the sofa laughed mirthlessly. “Foolish little boy. Fetch help?” His laughter turned into a cough.

Pulling off his cloak, Draco moved to kneel beside his injured professor.

“Professor, tell me what I need to do, please?” he begged. “You’ll die without help.”

“Well, that would simplify matters greatly for everyone concerned, wouldn’t it?” replied Snape in his characteristic acerbic tone. “Over there in the sideboard, bring me the orange potion,” he ordered, and then rested his head on the cushion behind him.

Draco went to the indicated cabinet and opened a drawer. Inside he found a multicoloured cache of potion-filled phials. Selecting an orange potion as instructed, he closed the drawer and went to kneel beside Snape again.

“Here you are, sir,” said Draco, opening the cap of the phial before handing it over.

Snape took the potion and downed it in one. “Helps replenish blood faster...now...you must heal.” He pointed to himself.

Draco looked at his House Master with eyes gaping in fear. “Sir, I...I don’t know how. I could kill you.”

Snape looked at the scared child before him, for that is all Draco was – a man-child. He was all Snape had for aid, however, and had to perform.


”I have had enough of your cowardice today, Malfoy. You were the one who wanted to prove yourself. Why your mother wanted to save your pathetic arse I’ll never know,” he spat.

Draco swallowed thickly. “Te-tell me what to do, sir.”

Snape closed his eyes “Your wand, Malfoy, like so.” He inscribed a scrolling motion gradually moving across a line. “Show me.”

Snape watched as Draco practiced the wand movement and nodded his satisfaction.

“Now the incantation: Sanosectum Iniuriam repeated continuously as you move your wand over the injury. Try…go on,” Snape instructed and lay back once more.

Draco peeled back the torn garments from the wounds and made sure there were no foreign bodies stuck to the tissue. He took a deep breath and concentrated.

“Sanosectum Iniuriam,” he intoned as he waved his wand as he had practiced. The flesh began to knit together slowly as his wand passed over it. He heard his professor moan in pain and stopped.

“Why did you stop, you stupid child?” Snape demanded through a clenched jaw. Perspiration beaded on his brow betraying the pain he had just endured.

Draco wiped the sweat of fear from his upper lip. “You were in so much pain, sir.”

Snape let his head drop back. “It’s only physical discomfort, Malfoy. It is temporary. I can handle the pain, I’m not afraid of it. I’m not a coward. Continue....I’m not a coward...I’m not a coward.”

Draco began the Healing Charm once more, listening to the strange mantra his professor and protector chanted to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Narcissa paced to and fro in her gilt reception room. Much of the Malfoy home had been closed as an economy but she had insisted on her personal drawing room remaining open. She had received the team of Aurors there with the dignity of her class. She had remained aloof as they contaminated her home with their search and endured their rude insinuations about her morals.

“You’re making me dizzy, sister. Sit and take tea,” Bellatrix said in a bored tone.

“I can’t. You heard what they said.” Narcissa turned and sat on the edge of her Queen Anne chair. “What has become of them?”

“Snape’s no fool. He’ll have taken them somewhere safe,” the dark witch replied.

“But where, Bella, where?” She looked to her sister once more.

Bellatrix cocked her head to the side and asked, “What do little boys do when they get hurt or frightened."

It dawned on Narcissa what her sister meant. “No, not there...would he?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

Bellatrix smiled. “They always run home to mummy. If I know Severus, he has made his home a fortress.” She put her cup down and approached her sister. “We wait until the hounds are circling for a new scent and then we move.”

Narcissa nodded her understanding but in her heart, she wanted to be with her only son. She wanted to take him away from this place, this country, which had become a living hell for them both.







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