Author's Note: The uncensored version of chapter four of this story is available out of general circulation, in that other section of the library. Be sure to bring a note from your professor.

Stone Walls do not a Prison make,

Nor Iron bars a Cage ;

Mindes innocent and quiet take

That for an Hermitage ;

If I have freedome in my Love,

And in my soule am free ;

Angels alone that sore above,

Injoy such Liberty.

------Richard Lovelace, ca. 1649

"Right this way, Professor. This is where we keep him."

The Auror, puffing from the exertion of the eight flights of stairs, turned the key in the rusted lock. The iron door swung inwards with a screech to a dank, poorly lit cell. The odour of unwashed human assaulted the nostrils, and Sirius Black recoiled involuntarily. The flagstones were shiny with moisture.

"Lumos. On your feet, you wretch. You're being sent for."

From the darkness, a scraping sound, as of chains slowly unfolding. A bearded shadow of a man stepped into the weak light that spilled from the Auror's upraised wand.

"Move along, there. Don't keep Professor Black waiting."

The shadow shuffled obediently to the center of the cell, and stood while his wrists and ankles were unshackled. A matted curtain of dark hair hid his face, but when he shifted, two glowing embers from his eye sockets caught the light. The Auror kept his wand pointed firmly at him.

"Have a care with this one, Professor. He's not an agreeable sort. Are you sure you'll be all right to manage him?"

"Yes, yes. Hurry up there. The headmaster is waiting."

The Auror shook his head. "I hope Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

"Is he ready?"

"Just about. Now, I'm going to leave this neck chain on, in case he should give you any trouble. And you keep your wand on him the whole time, or you'll regret it. He's a nasty one and no mistake."

"I assure you, that won't be necessary. You can take that thing off him."

"Well, due respect to a Hogwarts professor and all, sir, but the truth is I can't. It's regulations. We're bound to keep the subjects under physical restraint at all times on the island. Especially since our problems, as I'm sure you know about, with the Dementors. We can't be too careful these days."

"Fine, fine. Let's get going then."

"Right behind you, Professor Black. You'll just need to step into the office on your way out and complete the paperwork, and then we'll have you all set."

"Paperwork? I was given to understand everything had been arranged with the Minister beforehand."

"Well, sir, there's the Minister's end of things, and how he does business is his affair, and then there's things on our end. And on our end, we've got to fill out the forms if we're to run a tight ship here. Now I'm not saying anything against the way the Minister manages things- far be that from me, I'm just about the lowest rung on the ladder you'll find, and of course I would be, stuck here on this godforsaken island with the dregs of wizardkind trying to claw my throat out night and day, it's not a pleasant job, no it isn't sir- anyway, as I was saying, I've nothing against the Minister, but from time to time he forgets how daily business gets carried out, thinks he can manage things with a little snap of his fingers like he was waving his wand. I'll tell you one thing, paperwork is no joke, and it's no magic either, more's the pity. Many's the time I've wished I could magic myself out of that cubicle at one in the A.M. and down to the pub for a pint and to set my feet on the fender, but when there's work to be done it's got to be done, and us out here, we're the ones who've got to do it."

The Auror's speech had carried them to the little office, where he ushered them in and pulled out a chair for Black. The prisoner stood docilely in the corner of the room and did not lift his head.

"Is that everything? May we go now?"

"Yes, I do believe that's got it, sir. Everything looks to be in order."

"Good. We'll just be going then." Black glanced at the sun setting over the surrounding sea in a riot of gold, its gorgeousness a mock to the bleak, rocky fastness of the island.

"In such a haste to be off, are you? Well, can't say I blame you there. Most of us wouldn't be here if we didn't have to, and that's a fact. Still, I thought you might like to have a bit of a look round the old place."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, you know, for old times' sake and all that. There's some of my colleagues who remember you, so they do, sir, and would love for you to call on 'em."

Black's mouth narrowed. "Good day. Thank you for your assistance."

"Oh, think nothing of it. It's a pleasure to see you, sir, and anyone from Hogwarts. How we miss the old place once we've left it, don't we? Give my regards to-"

Black's cloak swirled over himself and his companion once, and they were gone. The Auror sighed and shook his head. Back in his cramped office under the stairs, he put his feet on a chair and closed his pudgy eyes. The unearthly wails that floated down from above disturbed his dozing no more than the distant clang of hot water pipes, and gave him the same oddly comforted feeling.

***********************

"Here. Let me get this thing off you."

With a tap of the wand, the heavy neck chain clattered to the prisoner's feet. He did not move.

"Is that better?"

It seemed to take the prisoner several seconds to realise a response was required. Slowly, he nodded his head, once, twice, as though it were rusty.

"I expect the first thing you'll want is a bath. There's a bathroom down the hall, and clean towels laid. And a razor, as well. Though you might want to start with some scissors. They're in the medicine chest behind the mirror. There's a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, and the second bedroom on your right has some clothes in it that ought to fit you. If you need anything else, just let me know."

Black moved off to the kitchen of the small flat, where he began rummaging through cabinets to make tea. The man did not move, but remained staring down at the neck shackle on the floor. After a few minutes Black returned, carrying a tray. He set it down on a low hassock and considered.

"Do you need some help?"

The man raised his head and squinted at Black, as though trying to make out his features.

"Your eyes are probably affected from such a long time in the dark. Your proper sight ought to return in a few days." He stepped closer so the man could see him.

"You need to try to use your voice, even though it's hard. I expect that will be painful at first as well, after a year in solitary. Concentrate on one word, and work on that one. Can you say my name?"

The man blinked. He dropped his head to stare at the chain again.

"Do you know my name?"

Slowly, the man shook his head. His shoulders slumped.

"Do you know your name?"

He raised his head and the ghost of something settled on him. His lips worked for a moment, and he swallowed repeatedly. At last a hoarse croak came out of him, but the words, carefully enunciated, were distinguishable.

"Severus Snape."

"My name is Sirius Black." He paused for half a beat to gauge reaction, but there was none. "Are you hungry?"

Snape nodded, more quickly this time.

"I've got tea and some toast with jam on this tray. Would you like to eat first, or bathe first?"

He watched Snape absorb this, his first decision in three years. He waited as Snape cast his eyes about, blinking rapidly. His hands clenched with the effort of it.

"Food," he croaked at last.

"Right then. Sit here and I'll pour you some tea. How do you take it?"

This appeared to give him more difficulty than the previous decision, as he reached for some memory that evidently slipped away. He shook his head.

"I'll just take a guess on that one, shall I? You don't look like a milk and sugar man. If you don't like it, I'll add some. Easier to put it in than take it out. The toast is to your left."

Snape lifted the food to his mouth with shaking, eager hands. He set the toast aside before he was finished with the first piece, however, and clutched at his stomach.

"You'll need to go slowly at first. Your body's not used to it. It will come, like the rest of it. Shall we have that bath now?"

Snape nodded, and he led him down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. He flicked off the overhead so as not to blind Snape further, and began running the water in the old claw foot tub. When he turned around Snape had not moved.

"Can you take your clothes off?"

He fumbled at his tattered clothing. When he was done he carefully folded the lice infested rags and laid them beside the sink. Black kept his face emotionless at the sight of the painfully emaciated body before him. His pelvic bones were as prominent as his ribs. Grainy black and white footage of men with shaved heads huddled at a barbed wire fence flashed in his mind.

"I think the water's about right. I would have made it hotter, but you've got one or two sores there I don't want to aggravate. Give it a try and see. Here, let me help you in."

He eased Snape into the tub and watched him sit there. Clearly he was at a loss. Black lathered a flannel and started in on his back. Snape was unresisting, lifting his arms and shifting when required.

"Now let's get started on that hair, shall we? Use this on it first and let it sit for a while- that ought to take care of any creatures in residence. Beard too. We'll shave that off, but we might as well get it clean first. That's it. Shall I bring you your tea in the tub?" He stood up and made for the door. The panic in Snape's rasp stopped him.

"No. Don't- go."

"All right, I'll stay. Are you ready to rinse? There we go. Now the shampoo. You wouldn't be likely to recognise that, would you? Get a good lather going, that's it. Here, like this." He worked the shampoo in with vigorous fingers. Snape leaned in to the hands massaging his scalp. "Tilt your head back. There. Feel good, does it? I'll wager it does. Right, I think you're done. You don't want to soak in that water. Let's see about getting you out. Grab on to me while I pull."

It took surprisingly little effort to get Snape out of the tub. He tried not to calculate how little he must weigh. Quickly he toweled him off and draped a bathrobe around his shoulders. Snape reached for his clothes.

"No, no, we're going to get rid of those. You'll need new things. Don't touch them, they're crawling with vermin. Do you want to try to eat anything else? No? Very well. Sit on this bench here and let me get started on your hair."

With a few deft whacks, Black had Snape's hair at the length he had been accustomed to wear it. Long enough to be imposing, short enough to keep it out of cauldrons. Parted severely down the middle. He evened it up and regarded his handiwork.

"Not bad if I do say so myself. All right, hold still and let's get this beard off you."

When he was done he held up a mirror for Snape, who squinted at it and frowned. He touched the mirror's surface with his fingers, then his face.

"I think you ought to try to get some rest now. Come this way." He led him across the hall to the small spare bedroom and turned down the bed. "There are some clothes in the top drawer of that dresser, if you want them. Pyjamas are here."

Snape pulled on the pyjamas with little difficulty. They were much like what he had been wearing. The buttons gave him a little trouble, and the drawstring was beyond him. Black finished him up and helped him under the covers.

"I want you to drink this potion before you go to sleep. It will help you rest." He uncorked the vial and held it out. Snape took it hesitantly and sniffed it. "It's Dreamless Sleep. It's quite safe- it's from the Hogwarts store." He paused. "You made it."

Snape gave no sign at this, but he drank it down. Sirius left the candle at the side of the bed burning and cracked the door. "If you need anything, you've only to call." Snape's eyes seemed enormous in the hollow face. His hand twitched convulsively on the coverlid. "Do you want me to stay for a while?" he asked gently.

Snape nodded, eyes down. Black lay down gingerly beside him, leaning against the headboard. He watched Snape's rigid form slowly relax under the potion's influence. When he was sure he was asleep, he leaned over and blew out the candle. The cracked wreck of Snape's voice startled him, coming out of the darkness.

"Thank you."

**********************

"Albus, I'm not sure I'm the right person for this job."

"You are the only person for this job, Sirius."

"I disagree. I'm the last person on this earth Snape is going to want to see. It's my fault we weren't able to get him out sooner, for one thing."

"Severus is unaware of that. He's going to need help, Sirius, and only someone who has been through such an experience is going to be able to help him."

"You and I both know Snape isn't going to want my help. Bring him back here and let him lurk around in his dungeon for a few weeks, and he'll be fine. You're the only one that has ever been able to get through to him, anyway. If you send me, Snape will end up back in Azkaban for a murder he really did commit, this time. Or I will."

"I have faith in you, my boy."

"That phrase is the habitual prelude to disaster in my life."

Dumbledore smiled. "A remark worthy of Severus. Your pessimism is a breath of fresh air. Besides, Sirius. You have a debt to pay."

"Oh, for the love of God. I should have seen that one coming."

"Of course you should have. Now get on with you. Everything has been readied at your flat. Contact me as soon as you can to let me know how he is."

"Pretty sure I would say yes, weren't you, Albus?"

The old wizard's smile deepened. "Fairly sure."

********************

Sirius awoke to an empty bed with a start. He leaped up with a glance at the clock. Seven in the morning. Where the hell was Snape? He had a fleeting vision of Snape wandering the streets of East London in his pyjamas, mumbling to himself. Why hadn't he thought to place wards on the door last might? Voldemort's final defeat had made everyone too careless of such things.

He padded out to the living room. Snape was at the bookcase, peering at the spines while munching last night's dry toast. He was wearing clothes he had found in the dresser- blue jeans that hung on him and a white T-shirt. No shoes. He turned when he heard Sirius.

"I didn't want to wake you."

"Are your eyes better?"

"Yes, much. Still sensitive." He turned back to his examination of the books. "He called you professor. What do you teach?"

Sirius hesitated. "Potions."

Snape nodded. Sirius watched him for a minute, then shuffled off to the kitchen to make breakfast. He stuck his head out the kitchen door every now and again to watch Snape as he moved around the room, exploring, touching. His improvement from last night was remarkable. It was almost possible to pretend it was the old Snape, until you met the absent eyes.

"So. We probably ought to talk." He set breakfast down and gestured for Snape to sit. "I made some more tea."

"Thank you."

He sighed. There was no easy way to begin this. "What do you remember?"

Snape took a sip of the tea. "Enough to know how much I am missing."

"Do you remember Hogwarts?"

Snape frowned. "The place where you teach?"

"Yes. You used to teach there, too."

"I see."

"Is there anything you want to ask me?"

He watched Snape struggle to come up with something. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did I teach there?"

"Sixteen years."

"I see."

"Do you remember going to Azkaban?"

He nodded. "Oh, yes. That is all very clear."

"Then you remember Albus."

"Is he the man I killed?"

"You-" Sirius stopped. "You didn't kill anyone."

"But I remember it very clearly."

"Yes. I'm sure you do." Sirius got up and pulled something long and slender out of the sideboard drawer, laying it on the table in front of Snape. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's a wand."

"It's your wand. Do you know what it's for?"

"Magic."

"Yes, indeed. You are a very powerful wizard-" He started to call him Snape, then thought that might remind him of Azkaban. "Severus" seemed startlingly inappropriate. He went ahead. "You are a very powerful wizard. This was your wand. A spell was placed on you by another very powerful wizard named Albus Dumbledore. Does his name mean anything to you?"

Snape shook his head. "Not names. Faces. Your face looks familiar. Have we known each other long? Did we teach together?"

"We've known each other since we were eleven. No, we never taught together. I came to Hogwarts after you left."

Snape looked at him sharply. "I used to teach Potions, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. He asked you to do something for him, and you did it. Can you remember what it was?"

Snape furrowed his brow.

"He needed you to go to Azkaban for him. There was a war going on. You helped us in the war. You did some very brave things. The bravest of all was agreeing to go to Azkaban as a prisoner." He paused to make sure his words were sinking in. "You did not commit a crime. The memories you have were given to you by Dumbledore, so that you would believe you were guilty and would confess under high doses of Veritaserum. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes."

"You did nothing wrong. The memories are not yours. They belong to another man."

"Who?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Is he dead?"

"He is now."

"Did he have my memories?"

"No. Your memories survive, but they are buried."

"I see." Snape looked at his hands. He made no effort to touch the wand. "I think I would like to go back to bed now."

"Oh- all right. Of course. Would you like some more Dreamless Sleep?"

"Yes, please."

Snape slept for the rest of the day. Sirius poked his head in periodically. He had a dreadful moment about two in the afternoon when he did not see Snape. It took him a moment to realise Snape had pulled the covers off the bed and curled up on the floor in the corner.