2009_Look..._At_Me_by

Look… At Me
by Rakina

Chapter 1: The Potion

Severus Snape peered into the bottom of his cauldron, assessing the shade of the small quantity of precious liquid held within. Any moment now it should change... a colour shift from deep green to scarlet would signal the potion's completion. Once that occurred it was vital to stop it simmering immediately, take the potion off the heat and quickly cool it to room temperature. Severus had spelled two beams of magical light to spill into the cauldron, but it was still difficult to judge the colour change; it could be easily missed if you weren't watching when the colours shifted.

Severus was wearing protective gloves – the finest belly skin of dragons tanned into the sheerest possible work gloves that could still give protection from spills while allowing fine finger movements. Severus had also spelled a protective charm around his face, letting him see clearly whilst magically repelling anything that might splash up from the cauldron. All this and his thick robes, triple layered with both spells and cloth, made him as safe as he could be while he worked on the experimental potion. But he was still working with the unknown, and that made his pulse quicken and his temperature rise. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his face; his fingers felt like they were coated with a slippery layer inside his gloves. If only the colour would change!

Severus felt the hot steam from the simmering liquid. It had taken about half an hour to cast the complex protective charms around his head so that they would permit the scent and feel of the steam to pass through, but deny liquid from a splash or – Merlin forbid – an explosion from within the cauldron. The charm worked upon the degree of saturation of the atmosphere; beyond a point where steam was judged liquid the charm would block it. It was worth the spell-work to set it up, as it could be vitally important to be able to follow a potion's progress with all the senses. Right now the steam smelled unpleasant – it was the rank, organic smell of water too long unchanged in a vase of flowers. It, too, should change as the potion reached maturity, morphing into the more pleasant smell of fresh leaf litter, or so Severus expected from the extrapolations he had made from previous attempts at a topical de-aging potion. But so far there was no change, the steam as unpleasant to his olfactory sense as before, the colour remained stubbornly dark green.

Severus' previous attempts at this potion had not worked. Or rather, they had, though the change had not held and the de-aged flesh he had tested it on had reverted to its original appearance after mere minutes. The longest the change had lasted had been two minutes and thirty-two seconds, a figure etched into his memory as the benchmark of failure.

Oh, yes, it had been amazing enough to be able to remove the frown lines from his forehead even for that length of time, but it still counted as a failure, for it would not achieve the goal of permanent de-aging of just one part of the body that Albus had set for him. And so far, this attempt was faring no better. Severus leaned down further, looking intently into the cauldron, willing the potion to change colour, to be what he needed it to be, what Albus needed it to be... what Potter needed.

And at Potter's name Severus' thoughts were immediately distracted. Against his will and his better judgment, a circular pattern of long-ingrained thoughts kicked in. The old Potter resentments, almost buried under layers of new ones created by the son, rose to the surface like a gas-bloated corpse. Here he was, back aching, eyes gritty with fatigue, struggling to make life better for a Potter! Making himself feel rotten in the process – but of course that didn't matter, had never mattered in the face of a Potter's best interest. And the brat was as ungrateful to Severus as his father had been unpleasant. Severus had given up his precious time – and Merlin knew he had little enough of it after teaching, being a head of house, spying and counter-spying, not to mention those awful, almost-purposeless Occlumency lessons which were failing because of the brat's unwillingness to cooperate. Yes, he had given much of his precious time to aid Harry Potter, and now he had to create a potion that, on the surface of it, was so preposterous that no one in their right mind had even considered trying it. There were possible commercial applications, to be sure – a de-aging cream for aging skin that left the intellect and age of the person intact should sell nicely to older witches and even wizards – but still, it was, if Severus considered it, almost absurd to want to de-age one part of the human body while leaving the rest at its current state of maturity. Who would want such a thing?

Why Albus Dumbledore, of course, who had some strange plan to use the potion on Potter's scar, although Severus could not work out why he would want to do so. Well, perhaps he could: it was to reduce the pain Potter felt from the scar, obviously. For Severus' own pain-relieving potions had been failing to do that, although that was not his fault, for he brewed the finest examples of all the known pain relievers. Potter, of course, had to be odd again; he had to have pain that was unaffected by conventional remedies. At first, Severus had thought the boy was making it up for attention; that the pain was not real and so of course could not be relieved. And then one day he'd seen the boy in agony, thrashing about on his dungeon floor as he was somehow affected by Voldemort, by some distant, strange echo of the Cruciatus curse that manifested, apparently, in a kind of vision accompanied by searing pain in his scar. And Severus had ceased to doubt. No one, and most especially not Potter – who was as transparent and unable to hide his emotions as most members of Gryffindor house – could fake such agony.

And so the hunt for a topical de-aging draught that would be rubbed onto the skin and would take it and the underlying tissue back fifteen years – back to before the Dark Lord had cast the curse that had formed the scar on Potter's forehead. Take it back and keep it back – keep it at that very age even as the rest of his body continued to age normally. It was preposterous – yes, it was – to hope that such a strategy would remove the link to Voldemort. And yet that was what Albus Dumbledore firmly believed, despite Severus' doubts. How could that mark – that mere scar – in Potter's skin be such a direct link to the Dark Lord? It was not a magical tattoo like his Dark Mark, created during a ritual... or was it? For Severus had not been present on that fateful night, so he really did not know, but clearly it was not just an ordinary scar. It was a curse-scar, obviously, and as such it was, naturally, cursed. Surely it was as simple as that, and Severus had always considered it to be so, though until this assignment he had spared little time perusing the matter. But if it was just a simple curse-scar, that did not explain the telepathic link to the Dark Lord, and Severus had no idea why such a link should exist. Clearly, Dumbledore knew something Severus did not.

So to Severus' mind this task made no sense, no matter which way he looked at it, and he thought, for the hundredth time since Albus had given him the job, how futile it would turn out to be. And why the bloody hell wasn't this potion coming to completion?

A noise behind him made Severus startle....

"Ah, my dear boy, how goes it?"

... which made his ladle catch awkwardly against the cauldron's rim....

"Have you made any progress?"

... which made the cauldron tilt towards him...

"Oh, do be careful!"

... and made him grab at it to right it. Which made the potion roil inside its moving vessel...

"Severus!"

... and made him drop the ladle into the cauldron in order to grip its rim with both hands, steadying it on its burner. And so the potion sloshed, and a wave breached against the belly of the cauldron, sending a thick splatter to shoot up, hot and semi-viscous.

And it splashed him.

But it was all right, because his gloves protected him. All except the limit of the splash's arc, he suddenly realised, where the potion made contact with his fully outstretched right arm in the slight gap that had appeared between his glove and the sleeve of his robe; a sliver of flesh that was usually covered up but which had been revealed by the sudden outstretch of his arm, to brace and support the cauldron. Severus just had time to look down in horror as the colour drained from his face. He lost consciousness, rapidly. The last thing he was aware of was Albus' consternation: 'Oh my!'

Chapter 2: What The Potion Did

"Tell me, Albus, why you think this de-aging potion will not have affected him? He looks considerably younger to me."

"It is a project he has been working on for me, Poppy. If it does affect him, the effects should be confined to the area of skin that the potion touched."

"Hm. Well, I've healed the scald, which was only small, but the skin still looks pink and new. His arm appears less hairy than previously though, which is just one of the reasons why I think he's been de-aged."

Albus looked closely at Severus' pale, slender forearm. "Perhaps, perhaps, but that is just his arm."

"Albus, you must be in denial! Just look at his face!"

Albus hummed to himself. Poppy was right, of course, though Albus had no idea why that should be. Severus was definitely working on the topical de-aging potion to Albus' specifications: that it should de-age the skin by fifteen years; but it should affect just the skin it was applied to and no other part of the body. It was a tricky project, Albus knew, but if anyone could do it, Severus Snape could. And he'd reported previous semi-successful trials, creating such a potion that was, so far, sadly unstable, for his skin had reverted to its previous state after a minute or so. But he had definitely been brewing the kind of potion Albus had asked for, and not the common de-aging potion that was still very expensive because of its rare ingredients. Very few folk in the wizarding world could afford that, and Severus had said that its effects were variable and quite possible dangerous, long-term. That potion was controlled under Ministry regulations too; only suitably qualified wizards could brew it – and there were few – which added to its rarity.

"The splash should have done no more than de-age that patch of skin; most probably only for a few minutes," the headmaster insisted again to Poppy Pomfrey.

"Well, I don't care what it should have done," the nurse replied briskly, losing patience. "It is apparent that Professor Snape – the whole of Professor Snape and not just his arm – has been de-aged." She gestured dramatically at Severus as if he was an exhibit at a trial, bidding Albus to see and admit the obvious.

"Oh dear," Albus said, somewhat at a loss. "But we must look on the bright side, Poppy: if Severus truly has been de-aged fifteen years, well, what wizard would not like that to happen? Providing he's over the age of thirty-five to start with, of course."

Poppy Pomfrey looked at her employer aghast. She was as used to Albus Dumbledore's eccentricities as it was possible for anyone to be, but this just about took the biscuit! "You really think he will be happy when he wakes up? Because I have to tell you, Albus, he's going to be livid."

A groan came from the bed and they looked around to see Severus moving under the covers, looking distressed. He was still unconscious, so Poppy ran a charm to check his vital signs. His heart rate was raised a little, which she'd have expected given his state of agitation, but he was otherwise stable. She turned back to Albus.

"I am going to run a diagnostic charm to establish his body's current age, Albus. It's a standard one the Healers use on unidentified patients. I'm not sure your fifteen years of de-aging is quite accurate. Severus looks to me to be the right age to be one of our students."

"Pish!" was all Albus had to say to that, so Poppy extended her wand over Severus where he lay in the hospital bed.

"Demonstro aetatis suis!"

Despite not wanting to see the answer – because he very well knew he was flying in the face of the evidence by insisting Severus was only affected according to his calculations – Albus Dumbledore watched intently as a grey mist formed around his alarmingly young-looking professor. It stayed unchanged for about half a minute while they both watched carefully. The mist seemed to embrace the patient, until it began to rise and coalesce above Severus' body. It formed into a small, dense cloud, which began to glow bright silver. Poppy exhaled, as if her suspicions were confirmed, and Albus glanced questioningly at her, but seeing her still focussed on the cloud he looked back at it.

Numbers began to form in the silvery vapour. A '1' formed quite quickly; a clear, upright stroke on the left side of the cloud. The shape of the other number, however, took longer to form. It was more complex... Albus hoped for an eight or a nine at first, but the figure continued to morph twist until its shape was recognisable.

"Fifteen!" Poppy declared with satisfaction. "Well, it appears that Severus has been de-aged by twenty-one years. He is currently fifteen years old. And that's all of him, Albus, not just his arm, or the charm would not have worked."

"Perhaps the charm is just reading his arm..." Albus knew the suggestion was weak, but he clung to the fading hope that his Potions master would be relatively unchanged.

"Do not be so foolish!" The nurse had had enough; Albus Dumbledore was just denying the obvious, and employer or no, headmaster or no, she could not let this go on. "Look at him! Does he look older than fifteen to you?"

"Well, he is very tall..."

"He was always tall for his age, as I'm sure you perfectly well remember. But just look at his face! It still has the slight roundness of youth; it is unlined. He is obviously a very young man – just a boy really."

Albus shook his head, giving up. He sank into the visitor's chair by the side of the bed and groaned. "I just hope he has retained his knowledge."

And what will Tom do when he sees him like this? Albus' mind added, unhelpfully. Except...

Albus perked up, and in a sudden, fluid movement denying his own advanced years he quickly leaned forward and grasped Severus' left arm, pulling up the sleeve of the cotton hospital gown Poppy had dressed him in on arrival. The arm was unmarked. "Well, that's something good that's come of it, anyway."

Poppy looked intently at him. "You realise that if it's a potion-induced change he will revert to his proper age after some time, and far quicker than the twenty-two years he's lost. Or that's how it nearly always happens," she added faintly.

"That's not so in this case," Albus said cheerfully, seeming to embrace the change now. "I happen to know that Severus was working on one of the class of permanent de-aging potions."

Poppy gasped. "But... that's... experimental. Dangerous."

Albus grimaced. "Which is why he's here in the hospital wing and not in his lab cleaning his cauldron after running yet another experimental batch."

Poppy shook her head. "He's always so careful when he's experimenting. What could have happened?"

"I'm afraid it was probably my fault," Albus admitted, "although his state of exhaustion cannot have helped matters." At Poppy's enquiring look he added, "I spoke to him while he was brewing. He startled and caught his ladle in the cauldron somehow. He was almost inside the damned thing, Poppy; he was so bent over it. I did not want to touch him and make him jump, so I spoke to him. He must have been rather on edge. Once the cauldron started to tip, he grabbed it to steady it in its place over the fire and his protective robe rode up his arm a little. It was enough to expose a small area of skin, and life and magic being what it is, that is where the splash landed. The result of this mishap, you now see before you."

"I do indeed," Poppy said, gesturing with her wand and summoning screens which she arranged around Severus' bed. He had been placed in the far corner of the ward and it was easy to make the area private. Poppy cast a barrier spell too, so only she and anyone she gave permission to could approach the bed. "And I think it might be wise to keep it between us for the moment, don't you?"

Albus nodded grimly. Poppy could always be relied upon to keep Severus safe and private; she was one of the few who knew of his history and current role. She was sworn to secrecy both by her profession and also by Albus, who took Severus' safety very seriously indeed. Albus looked down at the young man in the bed who was lying quite peacefully now, his de-aged face looking almost angelic against the white pillowcase. Albus reached out a hand and cupped the side of Severus' face tenderly.

Poppy watched the interaction sadly. There was something tragic about the younger man; it was something she frequently wished she had a cure for in her medicine cabinet. The inherent weakness of the human condition was something she had dedicated her life to alleviating, wherever she could. Severus was one patient she always felt she failed, because she knew he was destined to come back to her, again and again.

Chapter note: "Demonstro aetatis suis!" means 'show his age', to the best of my ability.

Chapter 3: Welcome Back, Severus

Severus Snape awoke, but he did not open his eyes. It was always wise to check on the state of your surroundings first.

The bed felt firm, the sheets crisp and almost starched. The room was quiet, which told him that he wasn't in his dorm, where he could always hear something: snores, sniffles, farts, boys moving around or talking; something. But here it was silent, and there was a whiff in the air – a hint of cleaning fluid and potions. The hospital wing, of course. Severus grimaced, unable to make the effort to keep his face straight. What did it matter? There were no Slytherins here. It was certain that old Slughorn wouldn't make the effort. He approved of Severus' intelligence, saw him as a potential achiever, but as yet unproved, for Severus had no wizarding family status to make him an automatic member of the Slug Club. And only Slug Club members would merit a visit from their Head of House.

Happy it was safe to do so, Severus opened his eyes.

"Ah, you're awake, Severus."

The ample figure of Madam Pomfrey advanced down the ward from her desk at the end, where she'd been watching for him waking. She approached with a rustle of starchy uniform, her ample bosom thrust before her like the prow of a ship; her nurse's hat its sails. Without further ado, she began casting diagnostic spells over him. Severus lay still and let her do it; he respected the profession of Healing even though he hated fuss. It was rather strange that she'd addressed him by his name rather than calling him 'Mr Snape', but Severus wasn't too bothered. The usually brisk woman could get a bit motherly at times.

Madam Pomfrey straightened up, a smile on her face. "You're in perfect health, Severus, if rather in need of a good breakfast. I'll call a house-elf and then let the headmaster know you're awake again."

Severus was genuinely confused now. Surely his waking wasn't enough to trouble Dumbledore with? "The headmaster?"

Pomfrey smiled at him. "Yes, the headmaster. Don't worry, Severus, you're not in trouble. But there's been a rather strange accident, which is why you're in the hospital wing. The headmaster will want to talk to you."

"Oh," was all Severus could say as the mediwitch bustled off to make her preparations. Soon in receipt of a full Scottish breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage, mushrooms and tomatoes with a plate of hot buttered toast, Severus was otherwise engaged than worrying about what she might mean. For the time being.

After a long session of questions and answers, which made little sense to Severus as he was sure Madam Pomfrey already knew the answers to everything she asked him, he was soon up and dressed, and with Pomfrey's permission was on his way to the headmaster's office. He knocked and entered, feeling guarded and rather nervous about what he'd learn here. A strange accident, indeed? Well, in the Wizarding world that could mean anything!

"Come in, Severus, come in. Do sit down. Tea?"

Severus sat, gracefully, and nodded at the offer of tea. It was all rather surreal. Tea in the headmaster's office, as if he was a member of staff or something like that! He'd never been asked up here before. "Thank you, Headmaster," he said as he received his cup of tea and settled back into the surprisingly comfortable upholstered chair placed beside the headmaster's own – a puffy, chintz monstrosity.

"Madam Pomfrey mentioned an accident?" Severus prompted the old professor, not wishing to be subjected to one of Dumbledore's rambling discourses. Severus suspected that it wasn't only at Welcoming Feasts that Dumbledore rambled.

"Yes, indeed, Severus. It does seem rather unfortunate that you've been the victim of a magical accident, but there it is. I suppose you're not particularly unhappy, though, are you? I mean, you're a fine young man-" Dumbledore ignored the incredulous look Severus gave him at this point, "-and nothing too terrible has happened." Dumbledore took a Bath Oliver biscuit and proceeded to dunk it in his tea, humming happily to himself.

Severus, however, was fuming inside. Somehow he'd known this would happen. Even when Dumbledore seemed to be answering a question, he was merely deflecting. 'A fine young man' indeed! He was no different than he'd been yesterday, except he was suddenly years in the future, according to the date on the issue of the Quibbler that had been lying on a table in the hospital wing.

"So, you don't know or understand it then," Severus said quietly. "But you could at least tell me the facts. Where was I when…" he trailed off, distressed.

"Calm yourself, Severus, all is well. You were caught in a time accident. An unusual occurrence, to be sure, but not unheard of. Such problems usually right themselves with the passage of time, which seems to sort itself out sooner or later. Oh, don't distress yourself – it's usually in less time than normal life. It was a Potions accident, you see."

"I got a potion so badly wrong?" Severus sounded scandalised at such an unlikely suggestion, and his narrow black eyebrows rose in shock.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said happily, dunking another biscuit in his tea.

Fifteen-year-old Severus Snape was having as much difficulty as his older self would have had over the prospect of ruining something so badly that such a far-reaching reaction had taken place. But as for being shocked over the time shift as many boys would have been, Severus was not so displeased about that part. Because if it truly was 1996 – and what reason could Dumbledore have for lying about that? – then he was free of the Marauders here. No more Potter, no more Black, no strange Lupin and no creepy, sneaking hanger-on by the name of Pettigrew. In that short, chubby boy's case, Severus thought with an internal sneer, it should have been no more 'Petti-didn't-grow'. Severus mentally rubbed his hands at the thought of finishing Hogwarts without them making his life a torment, even as he felt a sharp pang of regret at not seeing Lily at that age again. But hopefully he'd be able to see her as a woman.

"And what was I doing that resulted in a time accident?" Severus was still having trouble with the concept that he was to blame for his current confused condition.

"Never mind about that for now, my boy, never mind," Dumbledore said, annoying Severus with his deflection once again. "It's not something you'll be doing again in a hurry, even if we do manage to sort you out. Our first act must be to decide who you are to be now and then to Sort you into a House."

"Sort me? Whatever for? I'm in Slytherin!" was Severus' first reaction to that. And then: "And you know perfectly well who I am."

"Well, yes, of course I know who you are, Severus. But there are many complications in our situation. This is 1996, and it is all new territory to you; when you leave my office you will be a different boy; not just in looks but in outlook, identity, everything."

"Oh, Merlin," Severus sagged back against the chair's cushions. "Let me not be a Hufflepuff!"

Dumbledore peered reprovingly at his tea guest. Severus, aware of the headmaster's disapproval at that last comment, picked up his tea, sipped it and waited, determined to outplay the headmaster in this game. Finally Dumbledore obliged.

"It will be wise to give you a new identity, Severus. There are people here who might recognise you."

A panicky look came over Severus' face then, wondering why that might be a problem, but Dumbledore was hurrying on, so Severus let it go in favour of hoping to learn more.

"Well, no matter, Severus. For now you are here and we must deal with you." The old man sighed rather sadly at that, but went on: "Normally I would place you in fifth year, of course, but Madam Pomfrey has submitted a report based on her questioning of you, which merely confirms what we already knew: that you are extremely intelligent and, despite losing your memories, you still seem to have some awareness of your normal self, even if you do not openly remember it at this time. In short, you are intelligent, self-contained and above your year's learning level, which I am inclined to put down to some residual memory where magic and schoolwork is concerned, although perhaps you were the first time around. I would have to dig out your records to be sure..." Dumbledore paused and tapped his lip with a long forefinger, before continuing. "Therefore, I have decided to put you in with the sixth years. Any further ahead and you would be a real fish out of water and it would cause many questions, which we must avoid; but by advancing just one year it should be easier for you socially as well as intellectually."

"So, I'm to be a sixth year student. Now you tell me, I think I might remember studying here… I see myself writing, with rolls and rolls of parchment stacked up on my desk. It was dark and quiet," Severus said musingly, looking around the headmaster's office with a rather nostalgic look on his face. "Although this place is lighter, it feels familiar."

Dumbledore nodded happily. "When you were here as a student at Hogwarts, you were, and will no doubt be again, a very capable student. But you are very different from the boy you were at eleven, Severus, and I believe it will be advantageous to re-Sort you at this time. You will be introduced to the school as a previously home-tutored member of your family, a distant cousin, if you will. That way the family resemblance, if it is noted by any who remember Severus Snape, will be explained. Do you have any obscure family members who might fit the bill?"

Severus frowned into his teacup. "No. My father was a Muggle. My mother's family, the Princes, did not approve of Mum marrying him. But I suppose I could be a Prince..." he continued thoughtfully. "My mum always said her Uncle Aurelius was known for spreading it about… er…" Severus' sallow cheeks were enlivened by a slight flush as he remembered who he was talking to.

"Yes, quite," Dumbledore said, amused. "Then perhaps, for the purposes of this situation, he could be your father. We'll say you were home-schooled by your mother, who, let us say for lack of complication, was a foreign witch who died during the summer holidays. Hence, you are only now starting your Hogwarts career. Will that suit you, Severus?"

Severus felt an urge to glare at the headmaster, who seemed to find all of this a great joke. Though what might be funny about such a time accident, Severus had no idea. He hated it when people made fun of him; he had long since learned to rely on his dignity as a defence against the Marauders, and even though Dumbledore was not them, it still made his hackles rise. He gave in to his urge and glared at the headmaster, hard.

"And what will be my name?" he asked waspishly, dreading the answer. If Dumbledore wanted him named something stupid, he would object, strenuously.

"I see no reason to change your given name, dear boy. It is, after all, a family name among the Princes. Severus Prince will do nicely."

Severus' scowl went down a notch or two. That was… acceptable. It was what he would have wished to be called anyway. "Very well," he said, sounding grudging. No point in sounding too eager; the headmaster had annoyed him throughout this interview, after all. "If I must be Sorted, being Sorted as Severus Prince will be the best of a bad job. Though it is a consummate waste of time, Headmaster. Naturally I will be in Slytherin."

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Dumbledore agreed, rather too readily to Severus' mind.

Chapter 4: Hello, Harry

"Come in, Harry, come in."

As he walked into the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was already pouring tea, so Harry had no choice but to take the squashy armchair next to the headmaster's own and accept a cup with good grace. Dumbledore did this nearly every visit, leaving Harry to wonder just why he'd been called here. "Is everything all right, Headmaster?"

"Of course it is, Harry. Why ever not?"

"It's just… I wondered why you'd sent for me, it being the holidays and all."

"Oh, is it? Yes, of course it is…" Dumbledore sounded startled, as if the time of year had somehow slipped his mind. Harry did not believe it for a moment. "Well you see, Harry, this visit is not about you, but about Professor Snape. You see, we need your help."

"You need my help? I mean, Snape does?" Harry was lost now.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore chided, then broke into a grin. "Ah, but no, not any more. Severus, I should say. You see, Professor Snape had an accident while creating an experimental potion. Which potion, I might add, he was researching on my instructions in order to provide some help for you and the problems you have with your scar."

"Really?" Harry sat up straighter, interested. "Has something awful happened to him?" He tried hard not to sound hopeful about that, but wasn't sure he'd succeeded. The knowledge that Snape was trying to help him, even at Dumbledore's request, made such thoughts uncomfortable, and very unfair.

"Well, not awful in the sense you mean, for Severus is physically unharmed, if a trifle… changed. But something far-reaching has happened. You see, Harry, Professor Snape was caught in a time accident, and as a result, he is now fifteen years old."

Harry's jaw dropped and it was some time before he realised he'd been gaping at the old man. "But… but…"

"That was rather Severus' reaction when he found out." Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, that means we have a problem. The Ministry has provided a supply teacher to cover the professor's absence, however long it might be, but in the meantime we are left with a young man without antecedents who will be in need of some protection and assistance starting school in sixth year. For I'm sure you appreciate that we must be on our guard against any dubious factions discovering the truth of this incident. You see, Severus is still very intelligent, but he is also genuinely fifteen years old, and therefore vulnerable to some of his previous… ah… acquaintances. He will need friends here, and I would prefer it if those friends were not in Slytherin. That is only one of the reasons for Sorting Severus at the start of term, and giving him a new name."

"Surely he'll just get put straight back into Slytherin," Harry said, unable to think of the Greasy Git as anything but a Slytherin. He was head of the damned House, after all.

"You might think so, indeed you might. But you would be wrong. For you see, Harry, I am confident that Severus will be placed elsewhere this time around. Ravenclaw is a distinct possibility, of course. In fact, so far in advance of the fifth year curriculum is young Severus, that I have decided to put him into sixth year: your year. Therefore, I am asking you to keep an eye on the boy. Can you do that for me, Harry?"

"He's fifteen and he's going to be in my year? And you want me to keep an eye on him?" Harry sounded unconvinced; even as he was aware he was simply restating Dumbledore's words and making himself look an idiot. Good job Snape's not here, he thought with grim humour.

"Just so," the headmaster said, smiling and reaching for a biscuit. "Just so, Harry. Well, I must get on, and I'm sure you'll want to be heading back to the Burrow in good time for Mrs Weasley's excellent tea."

And so, because Harry knew perfectly well that it never got you anywhere to try and argue with Dumbledore, and because that was an obvious dismissal, he got to his feet and left quietly. But he wasn't too sure about his coming task; he wasn't too sure about it at all.

At Professor McGonagall's signal, the Great Hall quietened. Everyone was chatting and catching up now the Sorting was over, but the headmaster stood up and extended his arms, including the whole school in his belated start-of-term announcements.

"I have the usual notices to give, plus one or two that are a little different this year," Dumbledore began, and many of the older students immediately tuned out his following words about forbidden practices and places, only tuning back in when a new staff member was announced. "Would you all please welcome Professor Dingle, who has been sent by the Ministry, having been seconded from St Mungo's Pharmacy to be our new, temporary Potions teacher. This is to cover the leave of absence of Professor Snape, who is away attending an important, international think-tank on the use of potions in Creature-related incidents, one of his many areas of expertise."

There was disproportionately enthusiastic applause for the new professor, who looked deadly dull – being dressed entirely in grey and with a face that almost looked the same colour, so uninspiring was his expression – but who had to be, in nearly everyone's opinion, an improvement on Snape. Dumbledore waited politely for the clapping, hooting and stamping to finish, standing with a faint smile on his lips. McGonagall, however, looked disapproving, as she always did when she considered that a fellow professor – even Severus Snape – was being disrespected. Finally the Great Hall went quiet again and Dumbledore resumed his speech with his final announcement.

"And finally, we have to welcome a new student to Hogwarts; a young man who was previously home tutored and thus did not start his Hogwarts career at the age of eleven like the rest of you. Severus Prince recently arrived in England following the death of his mother earlier this year. Now an orphan without close family, he will reside here at Hogwarts until he reaches his majority. Severus is fifteen years old; however, he is a very bright boy and well above the academic level of a fifth year, and so he will be joining the sixth year here. Naturally, this means we must have a rather belated Sorting!

"If you please, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore gestured to McGonagall with a sweep of his brightly-robed arm.

McGonagall in turn gestured to Severus, calling, "Severus Prince!"

Severus had been waiting patiently at the side of the hall for his turn to face the Sorting Hat, having refused to line up with the first years as it was beneath his dignity. He was quite fierce in defence of that, and no one thought it worth the effort to argue about it. He'd been overlooked so far by the majority of the school, but as he stepped forward quickly now that he'd been called, he became the object of intense interest due to his familiar first name.

Severus sat down on the stool; he looked large and gawky perched on a chair sized for first years. He seemed to have trouble deciding where to put his legs, which were long for his age, and finally settled on stretching them out in front of him.

Meanwhile, a muted but fevered muttering had broken out around the hall, the students trying to work out just who this dark-haired young man might be. The name Prince was familiar as that of an old, pure-blooded family, and some of the more informed students knew that 'Severus' was one of its traditional names, for the entire family favoured using Roman emperors' monikers, and this information spread swiftly from table to table. It was presumably coincidence, everyone said, and therefore unremarkable in a magical world, that their newly departed, unlamented Potions professor and this gawky teenager shared the same forename.

But when Professor McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat over Severus' head, the hall went quiet again, very quickly.

To Severus, of course, it was not quiet at all, for a well-remembered voice spoke inside his head. He suspected some form of Legilimency must have been embedded inside the magic of this Founder's hat, whose mechanics he'd not really considered when he'd first encountered it at age eleven.

The Hat-voice chuckled. "Young Master Snape, you are cautious and intelligent, just as you were at eleven. It is not many years on, for I sense you are but fifteen; and yet it is many more than four years ago that I was set upon your head. Oh yes, you are much the same, but you are different too. Far more so than four years of development would explain."

"Get on with it!" Severus mentally chided, quite ill-temperedly.

"Well, no doubt you are right to want to hurry, for time is, as you know, always of the essence. Despite the complications in this case, however, your ultimate destination is really quite simple."

"Of course it is," Severus agreed, nodding and setting the Hat to wagging on his head, causing giggles to break out among the younger students in the hall.

"Oh, yes. I see that your overriding trait is bravery, which although it was part of your makeup at your first Sorting, was not the major part at that time. However, it is now. Yes, yes, Severus, I see that you are still devious, cunning and concerned with looking out for yourself, but it is not in a self-serving way. Rather surprisingly, I find that you are doing it in a very selfless way. Your concern is for others; and for one other in particular."

"What are you going on about?" Severus snapped, and this time he spoke aloud, causing the students at the front of the hall to laugh and those further back to ask their house-mates what he'd said.

"I am 'on about' your Sorting, young Severus Snape. Yes, there is only one house for you, despite all your cunning and your massive intellect, because overriding both is your bravery. You have faced, and will willingly face again, some very dubious situations at real risk to your life. And it is all in the service of another, and for the benefit of yet a third."

Severus was spluttering, trying to make sense of what the Hat was talking about, when debate became pointless as the Hat suddenly yelled: "Gryffindor!"

The blood drained from Severus' sallow cheeks leaving him looking waxy and ill. McGonagall saw his reaction and leant down to ask if he felt quite well. Severus could only shake his head, so she took his arm, helped him up from the ridiculously small stool, and led him over to the Gryffindor table. As he walked across on rubbery legs, Severus' generic Hogwarts tie magically transformed into the red-and-gold of Gryffindor and his chest sported a proud lion badge.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall said, "please take charge of Mr Prince; he seems rather unwell. After the feast you may show him up to the sixth year dormitory, where a bed will be waiting for him."

"Yes, of course, Professor," Harry said, looking concerned at the tall boy. "Come and sit down, Severus. You'll feel better once you've had something to eat."

Severus sat obediently, moving mechanically, obviously still in shock. Harry fought to keep his face straight at the sight of this discomfited Snape. It was rather a shock; he wondered if the Sorting was genuine, or whether Dumbledore had somehow manipulated the Hat into Sorting Severus into Gryffindor. Obviously Snape had to be brave, Harry grudgingly admitted that. He'd learned (or at least strongly suspected) at the end of fourth year that Snape spied on the Death Eaters for Dumbledore, and that required a lot of guts, didn't it? So perhaps Snape – this young Severus – really was a true Gryffindor. But it was making Harry's head spin to consider it. He'd love to know just what the Hat had said to Severus. Whatever it was, Snape had disagreed with it. And Harry really must stop thinking of him as Snape, because he might let it out in conversation, and that would be disastrous. Severus was a Prince.

They ate their dinner in silence, partly because they were both really hungry by now, and partly because both were unsure what to say to each other. Harry supposed he should do most of the talking; he'd been charged with keeping an eye on Severus, after all. Helping himself to a serving of raspberry trifle, he asked as casually as he could: "So, you were home tutored, Severus?"

The tall, slender young man next to him looked at him out of the side of his dark eyes, almost furtively. "Yes. But I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. It's been a very… disruptive summer."

"I can imagine."

"Can you? I doubt it."

"Yeah, I can," Harry persisted. "My parents are dead too, and my summers are always crap. I have to stay with my aunt and uncle, and they've never wanted me in their home. When I came to Hogwarts it was a relief, I can tell you." Harry didn't know if Severus remembered his future memories, but he didn't care; he finally had a chance to tell Snape the truth about his life, not the publicised legend the professor had obviously believed, and he was going to take it.

"Oh," was all Severus said to Harry's revelations, though. He ate quietly a little longer, then said: "What were your parents' names, Harry? If you don't mind telling me, that is."

"Why should I mind?" Harry asked, but added: "James and Lily Potter. My mum's name was Evans before she married."

Severus paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. It was shaking slightly. "Oh," he said again, quieter still.

Harry knew then that Severus, the lanky youth seated beside him eating trifle at the Gryffindor table, was not Professor Snape and did not seem to retain the man's memories. He'd said nothing rude about Harry's dad, and that was a first. It was weird, and Harry ate the rest of his meal in silence while he tried to absorb it. Ron and Hermione didn't interrupt; they had heard McGonagall charging Harry with looking after the new Gryffindor, and had spent the mealtime talking together or to the other sixth years. Harry and Severus, seated at the end of the table, could keep their counsel, and did. None of the others had heard their quietly spoken conversation, which was just as they intended.

Later, Harry took Severus up to Gryffindor Tower. The former Slytherin knew his way around the castle, but he'd never been in the Gryffindor common room. "It's very red," was his opinion. Harry could only grin.

Severus' bed had been installed between Harry and Neville's. Harry was glad he'd been put on that side of him because he knew Ron wouldn't have taken kindly to having the new boy between him and Harry. Severus' trunk, obviously new, sat at the bottom of the bed. Severus opened it and took out a book to read.

"I think I'll stay up here. It's quieter to read here."

"You need to meet the others, Severus," Harry said, feeling like a mother hen and hating it, but determined to do a good job as he'd been charged by Dumbledore. "If you stay up here on the first night back they'll think you're being stand-offish. Why don't you come down with me, just for a little while? I'll introduce you. Then you can come back up and read later. I know what you mean about the noise, it gets a bit much at times. I was brought up almost in isolation, and for the longest time I found it weird to be sleeping in a dorm. I didn't have any friends before Hogwarts."

"Did your aunt and uncle home tutor you then?"

"No. I went to school all right, but I never made any friends. My cousin hated me; he was a bully and made sure no one else dared to make a friend of me."

"Oh." Severus had a slight frown on his face. "I would never have considered a Potter could have such a crappy childhood," he said.

"Well, I don't know about any other Potters. There was only my dad, I think. And I don't know much about him. My aunt was my mum's sister; she told me my dad was a drunk, and unemployed. I know now she lied about my parents, but it hurt for the longest time. I felt pretty worthless."

"Merlin," Severus breathed. "Sounds worse than my home life. Look, I'll come down with you for a bit. But not for long; I don't like crowds."

"Me neither. I'll probably come back up with you, if you don't mind."

"It's your dorm as well as mine."

"Yeah, but I don't want to crowd you on your first day. McGonagall asked me to keep an eye on you, not pester you to death." No way was Harry going to admit that Dumbledore had asked him to keep a close eye on the de-aged Professor Snape, so McGonagall had to be his excuse.

"You couldn't if you tried. I'd hex you," Severus warned.

Harry looked a bit alarmed and felt a rush of anger, until he noticed a gleam in Severus' dark eyes. Could Snape, or at least this younger, more human version, be joking? On an impulse, Harry decided to treat the comment as just that. "Not if I hexed you first for being an antisocial git."

Severus, to Harry's surprise, grinned. "Fair enough," he said, shrugging.

Harry grinned back. "Come on, then. Let's get the bloody introductions done. The nosey lot will want to know everything about you. Do you know your shoe size?"

As they clattered down the spiral stairs, Severus said, "I don't mind telling them that, but I hope to Circe they don't ask what size jockstrap I wear for Quidditch!"

Harry nearly fell down the rest of the steps.

Chapter 5: In Gryffindor

Severus was right to dread the introductions, because they took ages. Nearly all evening, in fact. He found what he'd always suspected: that Gryffindors were the nosiest bunch of people, completely unlike Slytherins, who kept their own secrets and tried to find out others' in a far more subtle way than barraging their victim with intrusive questions. What the hell had the headmaster done to the Hat? Severus wondered; he shouldn't be here among these noisy, garish people. Or so he thought until he observed a couple of quieter members of the house of Godric. There was a quiet, shy-looking boy who was close to Harry, called Neville Longbottom. Severus remembered a bloke called Frank Longbottom a couple of years ahead of him at Hogwarts, so as it was 1996, perhaps this boy was his son. And then there was a Muggle-born witch called Hermione Granger. She had her head in a book most of the evening, and was surrounded by several more and a stack of parchments. It reminded Severus of a memory he had of himself sitting working, surrounded by parchments; but that was in a darker, stonier setting than this tapestry-draped common room. It must have been his Slytherin study area he was remembering.

Now this Hermione, once she took her nose out of her book, was a true Gryffindor as she was quite open and intrusive with her questions. But she was also very perceptive. Severus suspected she was studying so frantically not in order to catch up, having slacked off over the summer hols, but because she was an obsessive learner. It made him warm to her and he even answered her questions – those that weren't horribly personal and none of her business.

Well, that is to say, he answered one: "Are you related to Professor Snape, Severus?"

"Who? I've never heard of any wizarding family called Snape."

"He's been the Potions professor here for ages. Didn't you hear Dumbledore's announcement? He's gone off to some conference or other and they've had to get a replacement. He's strict, but he's a good teacher."

Harry, seated next to Severus, let out a derisive snort.

Severus looked thoughtfully at Harry, but answered Hermione. "No, I've not heard of him. My father's name was Aurelius Prince. I'm not his heir, as my mother wasn't his wife, but I do have his name."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said, blushing to the roots of her bushy brown hair.

"Don't be, I'm not," Severus said. "Mum called him a two-faced, two-timing old bastard often enough. But he paid for my upkeep, so he can't have been all bad. Mum was Spanish." Severus wasn't going to say any more; just enough to satisfy the nosey sods and keep his cover.

"Well, you do look a bit like Professor Snape; he was dark too. In your case it must be the Spanish influence. I'm sorry to hear about your mother, by the way."

Severus pressed his lips together and nodded. That was quite enough for tonight. He stood up. "I'm going upstairs to read. I've no idea how you manage to do it in here."

Hermione laughed and went back to her books. Ron looked up as Harry, too, rose. "Where you going, mate?"

"You heard McGonagall; I've got to keep an eye on him. Make sure he's okay… show him the ropes, all of that. He doesn't even know where the bathroom is yet." Harry grinned. "See you later, Ron."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"You're playing chess with Seamus later, aren't you? Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. I'll just have a quiet evening."

Ron grinned. "Yeah, like most evenings with you. Go on then, you prat. I'll catch you later."

Harry followed Severus, who was already heading out the door to the dormitories. "Wait, Sev!"

Severus turned, scowling. "Don't call me that!"

Harry put out his hands, warding off the boy's sudden temper with a gesture of appeasement. "Whoa! All right, whatever you want. No need to get so stroppy about it."

Severus backed off and turned, carrying on up the stairs.

"I'll show you the bathrooms," Harry said, following.

"Very well."

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought Severus sounded a bit sorry. Perhaps this younger Snape wasn't as nasty as the older one. Perhaps there was some hope he wouldn't turn out that way, or at least not yet. Harry decided he really didn't mind Severus as he was now.

Their first class was, ironically, Potions. Severus sneered throughout, criticising Professor Dingle under his breath at almost every turn. He brewed a perfect Respiration potion – a fairly tricky little potion which made breathing easier and was used extensively in hospitals and by people with asthma or other breathing difficulties. What's more, Severus had completed his potion, cleared his desk and taken a sample to Professor Dingle (with a curl of his lip as he handed it over) before Hermione had even finished brewing. She frowned at the new boy as he returned to his work bench, took out a copy of Advanced Medicinal Potions – A New Approach, and proceeded to read for the rest of the session.

Harry glanced across at the text Severus was reading, and blanched. The symbols meant nothing to him. Blimey! Snape might only be fifteen, but he already knew a lot. Harry wondered if Severus Prince retained all Snape's Potions knowledge. He decided to find out. "Have you heard of the Wolfsbane Potion, Severus?"

"What? There's no potion of that name, though there are many that use wolfsbane as an ingredient, of course. What does it do?"

"Oh, but there is," Harry whispered, hoping to avoid Dingle's eye. The temporary professor had proved quite snappish already, taking points from both houses this session. "It's used to prevent werewolves losing their human mind while transformed."

"Impossible," Severus declared, frowning.

Harry smirked. "Not now."

Severus muttered to himself, then whispered to Harry: "Seems I'll have a bit to catch up on then; that potion must be relatively new."

Harry nodded, still stirring his cauldron. His bloody potion wouldn't turn green, and glancing around, Harry discovered that he was one of the few whose potion hadn't done so. "Bugger," he muttered.

"If you stirred more smoothly it would have chance to amalgamate its ingredients properly. It won't change into its final form unless you do."

Harry looked at Severus. Professor Snape would never have helped him; but this wasn't Professor Snape. It was Severus Prince. "Thanks." He had been stirring rather wildly, anxious for the overdue colour change, but he made himself slow down and concentrated on the motion of the spoon, and the little waves in the cauldron calmed. And sure enough, the potion began to change from red-brown to green. Harry grinned. "Thanks, Severus," he said again, warmly.

Out of the side of his eye, as he doused the flame and cast a cooling charm on the potion, he saw Severus nod.

So… Severus knew nothing about what had happened after his schooldays; he did not remember his adult life at all. It was amazing, and intriguing. It was a bit like meeting a whole new person, but with a familiar person's face. Because even though he was only fifteen, Severus was recognisably, undoubtedly, Professor-Snape-to-be.

Harry wondered if this magic, which had turned back time for this man, had worked on the Dark Mark. He determined to find out, but Severus was a very private person and did not undress openly in front of his dorm-mates, but always in private, behind his curtains. Harry wondered if he was shy, but dismissed that idea – this was Snape, after all. No, the easiest way – the least suspicious way – was not to ask him to roll up his sleeve, which was hardly a normal request, but to follow his new friend to the bathroom. Because Harry thought he could say that now: Severus was a new friend. Ron and Hermione, however, weren't so keen on Severus. Hermione openly admired his intelligence, but was obviously put out because the boy out-performed her in most classes, while Ron just didn't seem to like him at all. Severus was too closed-off, too secretive for Ron's taste. Ron was a Weasley through and through, used to noisy gatherings and lots of people. He thought Harry's tendency to wander off and be quiet alone was odd; Severus' almost pathological need to do so was just weird, in Ron's opinion, and he'd expressed it to Harry several times.

Harry soon discovered a flaw in his plan to find out about the Dark Mark. Severus woke early, always, and headed off to the showers before anyone else was up and about. Harry was ready for him this morning though; he'd cast a wake-up charm on his wand last night, and woke just before dawn. He could hear the huffing, snuffling, snoring noises of the boys in the other beds, and he could see Severus' silhouette in the bed next to his. But Severus wasn't huffing, and he wasn't breathing the deep, relaxed breaths of a sleeper, either. Severus moved a little restlessly, then suddenly threw off his covers and sat up.

Harry moved, to let his companion know he was waking up too. He stretched in the bed and yawned. "Morning."

"You're awake early," Severus said, and Harry hoped he'd only imagined the suspicion he heard in the tone.

"Restless sleep, I suppose. Happens sometimes."

Severus didn't say anything, but seemed to accept this. Harry had noticed that Severus slept pretty restlessly, too, and his bed clothes always looked rumpled in the mornings, as if he'd fought with them.

"I'm going for a shower," Harry said, grabbing his toilet bag. He was putting Severus on the spot here, and knew it. If Severus waited until Harry was done, chances were others might be waking. Harry grinned as he headed for the bathroom corridor.

He'd just got himself in a shower stall, shampoo in hand and a jet of lovely, hot water of just the right temperature pouring all over his body, when he saw the door open and Severus enter in his nightshirt. Its cotton was a blue so dark it was almost black, and it suited Severus' pale skin and dark eyes. Harry was standing with his back to the water, deliberately, so he could watch the other boy's entry. He knew Severus would have to take that nightshirt off soon, and then he'd see if the Dark Mark remained on the young man's arm. Harry didn't know what to expect. The Mark was indelible, inscribed for life, so theoretically it should still be there, as that magic should be stronger than time magic, shouldn't it? Harry was no expert. Severus as fifteen hadn't borne the Mark, so if he truly was fifteen, not just glamoured to look that way by the time-reversal magic, then the Dark Mark ought to be absent. Harry hoped to see pale, unblemished skin on both of Severus' arms. He hoped it so fiercely that he must have looked quite alarming, staring at Severus that way.

Because Severus was blushing. He looked very uncomfortable, but Harry couldn't avert his eyes, he might miss what he was watching for. Severus put his toilet bag by a washbasin, and rummaged around in it a while, taking out toothpaste and a toothbrush and setting them on the shelf there. Then he took out a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap, squared his shoulders and reached for the hem of his nightshirt. He pulled it up over his head in a swift, irritated movement, revealing a pale, slim body on the verge of being too thin. When he turned, his cock stood out very obviously against his narrow hips; the dark pubic hair very evident. Harry's gaze lingered on it, until he mentally kicked himself and moved his gaze up to Severus' arms.

Which were both unmarked. Harry breathed out in relief, until he looked up at Severus' face.

"What are you staring at? Want a picture?" Severus asked insolently.

Harry would have liked to say yes, but it was something other than Gryffindor bravado that made him blush and shake his head. He realised Severus' response was to cover his own embarrassment. "Sorry, Severus. I… don't know what came over me." He turned his back and started shampooing, his face aflame.

It was true; he didn't know what had come over him. He wasn't one for gawking at other boys' bodies. It must be because it was Severus – Professor Snape. There was something unbearably titillating about looking at him naked, knowing he was human, just a young man like Harry and subject to all the normal anxieties about his body, just like any other teenaged boy. The slender young man had obviously been discomfited by Harry's staring. Well, who wouldn't have been? Harry cursed himself for an idiot for doing it. It had seemed a good idea to peek at Severus in the bathroom in order to find out whether he was still Marked. He was relieved to find out that Severus wasn't, but was it worth the cost of making Severus suspicious of him? Still, at least now he didn't have to fear Severus being summoned by Voldemort, Apparating off to some meeting somewhere with those monsters while he was still only a student! And did Severus even know how to Apparate yet? And what would Voldemort do if he found out his Potions expert was now a boy? As the rinsing water fell over his face, Harry sniggered at the ridiculous image of a spluttering Voldemort going on about teenaged brats being the bane of his life. Then he found he was coughing and spluttering himself after accidentally inhaling some of it.

Chapter 6: The Two Of Them

On Thursday, after their morning Charms class finished early, Harry and Severus found themselves with a free period. The class had been trying to master the Featherlight Charm, and both boys got it right immediately. Harry suspected Severus already knew the charm; Severus seemed adept at more charms than anyone of their age that Harry knew of, including Hermione. Harry had been more surprised when he'd mastered it himself on the first try, though; but he had, and done it repeatedly, proving it was no fluke. Seeing their proficiency, Professor Flitwick had sent them off to do personal study in the library while the rest of the group struggled with the charm.

"Let's go outside," Severus said as they left the Charms classroom. "It's too nice to hole up in the library today."

Harry looked a little surprised; he'd assumed that anyone as academic as Severus would prefer going to the library rather than being outside, but his new friend was not just a male version of Hermione; he was very much an individual. Harry was much happier spending time outdoors on such a bright day, which might well be one of the last nice days of autumn, so he replied, "Yeah, let's go out to the courtyard. We've not got enough time to go far."

The courtyard was quiet, deserted. The two boys walked around the cloisters and headed out through one of the exits into the central grassed area. Harry had been watching Severus, checking to see if he was relaxed by observing his body language. Satisfied Severus was content with life, Harry decided to chat. "Do you miss your old friends, Severus?"

"Friends?" Severus sounded mystified, as if Harry had used a foreign word he didn't recognise. "What friends?"

"Well, I imagine you must have had friends wherever you lived before."

"No." Severus shook his head, setting his longish dark hair swinging. "I had no real friends. I was home tutored, remember?"

"Well, yeah, I know that's your cover story," Harry said, finally having a chance to tell Severus he knew who he was. "But I know who you really are; Dumbledore asked me to look out for you." Severus was looking alarmed, so Harry hurried on: "Don't worry; I'm the only person who knows. Not even Ron and Hermione know about you. The headmaster called me to his office and told me all about you, and he asked me to keep close to you, make sure you're okay, stuff like that. So you don't have to make up any details about your past life for my benefit, okay?"

"I…" Severus seemed lost for words.

Harry felt bad bringing the subject up now, but he'd needed to tell Severus ever since he'd met him. He didn't think it was fair to carry on otherwise, it felt as if he was deceiving him. "Look, never mind. I shouldn't have been nosey about your friends anyway. I just hope you can think of me as your friend now, Severus."

Severus looked at Harry, frowning as if he'd been set a problem. "Either way the answer is the same, whether it's my imagined back story or my real past life; I have no real friends any more."

Harry hoped Severus was talking about the past and not about now, and he tried not to take his statement as repressive. As they walked around they came to a series of wooden benches set against the cloister walls, and Severus sat down on one, and Harry sat beside him. Severus put his hand inside his robes and pulled out a book, and began to read. Harry sat awhile, just looking around, appreciating the sun, which still had some warmth in it. There were a couple of blue butterflies fluttering around a rose bush in the centre of the courtyard, and Harry watched them for a while, fascinated by their flight. Eventually, he looked back at his companion, whose long nose was buried in his book.

"What are you reading out here? Don't you ever stop, Severus?"

Severus shrugged. "There's not much else I like to do."

Harry pondered that. Something about Severus struck him as ineffably sad. Hermione liked to read, almost constantly, but somehow Harry doubted she'd have sounded so vulnerable if she'd said that. Why was it he'd never noticed this about Severus before? Was the sarcastic professor the same as this young man, a vulnerable loner? Did he use his sharp tongue as a defence, keeping everyone at arm's length so no one would feel sorry for him? "What's your book about, Severus?"

"Occlumency, Harry."

Severus' response was still curt, as if he was wary of this line of questioning. Harry wished Severus wouldn't be so defensive; there was no need. He was only trying to be friendly and had no ulterior motive. Maybe if he kept trying, Severus would finally be able to see that. "Are you interested in Occlumency, then?"

Severus huffed, but he closed his book, obviously deciding to talk after all. "Yes, I would love to learn the mind magics, Harry, but I don't know anyone who would teach me. When I was in Slytherin, I did hear that Bellatrix Lestrange understood it. She was in Slytherin too, but she left before I knew much about it. She was never nice to the first and second years anyway, so she wouldn't have helped me."

"Oh! I've heard of her," Harry said, shuddering. "She's a big fan of Voldemort."

Severus shrugged. "I don't know much about that, except what I've heard in Slytherin. They talk about the followers of the Dark Lord, but it's all just rumours, if you ask me. It hardly matters to me, especially now I'm in Gryffindor. The Dark Lord isn't popular here, is he?"

Harry grinned. "You could say that. You're not bothered by that, are you?"

"Hm. No, not really. But I do like to study magic that many of you will probably think of as Dark. The mind magics are often looked upon as dubious, and I am interested in other things, too."

Harry just nodded and stood up. "Come on, Severus. It'll be all right, I know it will." He offered Severus his hand, and was happy when the other boy took it to help himself up from the bench.

They walked off together back into school, both of them feeling quite satisfied with the situation between them.

A week passed and Severus settled into Gryffindor life surprisingly well, in Harry's opinion. Harry made it as easy as he could for the de-aged professor, but he never let on about the real truth to Severus, who genuinely had no memory of being a teacher, believing he was a student thrown forward in time and not a de-aged adult. Although Severus still hated Harry's father, that hatred seemed to be at a lower level than when Harry had encountered Snape the Potions master, and Harry found he could override it. At times, Severus almost seemed to have forgotten Harry's surname.

Harry had noticed the other boy did not sleep much better than he did. Harry was having unusually vivid nightmares; not every night, but often enough that he was beginning to feel quite ragged in the mornings. When Harry had snapped at Ron for hurrying him only that morning, Severus had just looked at Harry with a knowing expression on his face; that night, Harry discovered the depth of Severus' empathy.

Harry's heart was pounding, sweat breaking out upon his brow. He panted as he ran along, surrounded by the darkness of deepest night… no, by the darkness of a long, ill-lit corridor. It seemed never-ending, and Harry was surrounded by an air of menace, as if the very air itself was alive with malice, just for him. Something wanted him, wanted him badly. Harry thought it wanted him dead and he fought against it, breathing raggedly but breathing, keeping breathing, determined that he would live, that this evil would never get what it wanted, because that was what his life was about: to keep on living, just as he'd always done.

His feet echoed hollowly along the featureless corridor. Featureless except for the doors: doors to the right, doors to the left, all of them closed and Harry knew without trying them that they were locked against him. He had no way through; he just had to go on. Because he knew that, as long as the corridor was, an unending as it seemed, it had an end. And there was a door there; a door which would open. And so Harry hurried along, his heart thudding unevenly, his breath rasping through constricted airways, rattling like an old man's last gasp.

And now he could see it… the door. It was just like the others, plain black and featureless but for the handle, the brassy gleam of which was like a mocking gesture. As if a building could be impudent… but this one could, Harry knew. It called to him, that brassy handle, and he sped up, his footfalls getting louder, his heartbeat drumming loudly in his ears. He would get to it, he knew that now, and he would open that door even if it was the last thing he ever did, because the malice that surrounded him was almost palpable now, a presence about to take on corporeal form. Harry reached out his hand, running the last length with his arm stretched before him, aiming for the handle of that final door.

And when he touched it, the brass wasn't cold as he'd expected it to be. He'd thought it would be as cold as ice, so cold that it burned, but no… yet nor was it hot, burning hot. It was warm, and it felt like flesh. And it discomfited him as badly as if it had truly burned him; worse, perhaps. Harry shuddered, and even though he wanted to let go, to take his hand away from that fleshy presence, he pressed down on the handle.

The door opened without a sound, opening away from him and showing him what lay beyond. And even as Harry recoiled, realising this was a mistake, he was sucked into the blackness beyond. It was a blackness like space without the stars, the blackness of some hellish, bottomless pit, perhaps. And Harry fell…

And realised he was not alone.

Harry started awake with a yell, which he managed to smother before he could wake anyone. He sat up suddenly, his heart pounding and the beaded sweat on his brow gathered and trickled down his temples. Panting, he looked around, and in the bright moonlight spilling through the dorm window, he came face to face with an equally awake and upright Severus, who was looking at him, unmoving.

"I- it's nothing!" Harry panted, trying to avoid the questions that always followed his nightmares.

Severus just nodded solemnly, before lying down and pulling his covers up to his chin. Then Severus turned away, and in that moment of movement Harry saw the sweat glistening on Severus' skin, noted the fast breathing and the trembling of Severus' hands as he pulled the covers closer to his head. And Harry knew that Severus knew; that he understood as none of the others could. Because although Severus wasn't yet a Death Eater, he had plenty of his own issues: the abusive childhood, all the reasons that he'd been drawn into Voldemort's influence, they were still there in the fifteen-year-old in the next bed. And somehow, that comforted Harry, because he was no longer the unwanted one in the dorm, no longer the freak. There were two of them.

Chapter 7: Dreams

The week flew by; Severus was rapidly becoming the Gryffindor genius, ousting Hermione from that position. He was unwilling to help others, though, and studied alone. He put up with Harry's presence nearby, but kept himself away from other study groups. Harry found he was losing touch with his best friends in the effort to keep Severus close, and that bothered him, a lot… because he found he didn't care; he really didn't miss them as he felt he ought to. He was becoming wrapped up with this young Severus, fascinated by what made him tick, and Harry spent his time trying hard to get close to him, to become his friend in every way, not just by his own profession. He thought he was making real progress at it recently, too. Because Severus had given up grumbling when Harry sat next to him to do homework; nor did he turn a hair when Harry sat beside him in all their classes, sharing a workbench in Potions and Herbology. Nor did Severus try to lose him when he went wandering during free periods or at break time. In effect, Severus had accepted Harry as his shadow, and that meant a lot to Harry, who had immediately recognised and empathised with Severus' solitary nature, and he found he just couldn't worry about what Ron and Hermione were up to. They had each other, and for some time had been dancing around their whole relationship, leaving Harry uncomfortable and feeling in the way. He could see Ron wanted to make something more with Hermione, but Ron was so awkward about it; he didn't seem to know what to say to achieve a relationship, and ended up tongue-tied as often as not. Harry thought it was bloody obvious what Ron ought to do: just talk to her, for Merlin's sake, tell her what you want! But Ron didn't seem to know how. So Harry left them to it, and was glad, in a way, not to have to be some kind of piggy-in-the-middle any longer. He certainly didn't want to end up as a go-between, perhaps, or Ron's 'agony uncle'. Severus had come along at just the right time to save him from that.

Today was Saturday, and Quidditch practice. Severus had watched without comment as Harry got dressed in his Quidditch gear ready for practice right after breakfast. Severus wasn't bad on a broom, not bad at all as far as Harry had managed to work out, but he refused to try out for a place in the team or the reserves. He'd said he just couldn't do it, and Harry thought that was because it was the Gryffindor team, rather than any self-doubt about his ability. Severus never seemed to have that; he knew he was good. But Severus' heart would always wear green, in Harry's opinion, wherever the Hat had put him this time around.

Harry ate a big breakfast; he was really hungry and needed the energy. He said ''bye, Severus" and headed out to the pitch.

It was a demanding practice session, with Harry working hard on new manoeuvres. He got hot and sweaty, and eventually touched down with his heart pounding and his breathing quickened; standing there panting reminded him of how he'd been in the dream the night before. Harry dismissed the thought and headed off to the showers with the others, looking forward to getting clean and into new clothes, and stowing his sweaty kit in his kit bag. All he was thinking of as he hefted the heavy bag was getting back to the castle for an early lunch. Gods, he was hungry lately! Not that he wasn't regularly hungry; it was a legacy of his childhood of semi-starvation that ensured he was often thinking about where his next meal was coming from.

But Harry's destination changed as he stepped out of the changing rooms, because he caught sight of a lonely figure that could only be Severus Prince heading out on the path towards Hagrid's Hut. Which was just about the last place Harry expected his friend to go on a Saturday. Intrigued, he turned and followed.

Severus was well ahead of him, but Harry didn't call out, fairly sure the blustery weather that had made flying so difficult would toss his voice straight back to him, as they were walking into the wind. He hurried along, slowed by his heavy kit bag. Severus walked fast, his long legs covering the ground quickly, and Harry noticed, not for the first time, that Severus' gait was oddly jerky, like some long-legged insect.

Harry puffed along behind, almost trotting, keeping the tall boy in sight. Severus would slow down soon; he was nearly at the hut. But Severus didn't. Instead he veered off along a side track Harry had never used, that led past Hagrid's pumpkin patch and headed towards the forest. Harry frowned, and came to a quick decision. He stowed his kit bag on the other side of the stone wall surrounding Hagrid's garden, and unencumbered, he hurried after his friend, quicker now. Severus was just entering the trees, following the narrow track into the forest. It was forbidden to students, of course, hence its name, though Harry had rarely followed the rule and he did not expect Severus to do so either. Perhaps his friend was after potion ingredients, or off to study the fungi or something.

Or perhaps he just wasn't coping? A cold, nameless fear hit Harry then. The 'time accident' must be a huge upheaval, however much Severus seemed to be dealing with it. He'd been uprooted from an earlier time and dumped into the 1990s – at least in his mind. How could he not be traumatised by that?

Harry sped up, panting as he trotted along, and rushed between the first tall pines into this ancient remnant of the Caledonian Forest. It was calmer in here, the wind having little impact at ground level, even as it tossed the tops of the trees, causing them to whisper their turmoil all around to the listening fauna and the few humans brave enough, or foolish enough, to venture here.

"Severus!"

The dark figure stopped, but did not turn.

"It's me, Harry, wait for me!"

Harry feared his friend might take to his heels instead of waiting, annoyed to be found while he obviously sought solitude, but Harry knew that being a lone human in this place could be dangerous, and it would be better if they went together. To his relief, Severus continued to stand, waiting, though he did not turn at Harry's approach, which he must have heard as Harry got nearer, inelegantly blundering along, cracking twigs and pushing aside bracken as he came.

Harry caught up with Severus, and stood beside him. "It's better not to be alone in here, Severus. I think you know that."

Severus didn't answer, but that in itself was a kind of acceptance, and Harry was happy enough with that. They started to walk again.

The scent of the pines was beautiful, invigorating, seeming to clear the last of the confusion and worry from Harry's mind. The moist layer of leaf litter and old bracken added its not unpleasant aroma to the air, and Harry thought he'd remember that smell forever – if he ever scented it again he'd know just where he was immediately, just from the smell. And still they walked together, silently, and Harry was content for now just to be side by side with Severus. It was companionable, it was friendly, and Harry took it as another sign that he truly was Severus' friend, not just the pest assigned to keep an eye on him in Gryffindor.

It was quite a while later when they stopped; Severus pointing to a fallen tree trunk beside the track. Harry followed and they sat together, looking out into the greenness that surrounded them, feeling the tingle of magic that imbued this place. Whether it came from the magical creatures, the magical plants or the very soil itself, Harry could not say, but Hogwarts and everything nearby was alive with magic; a legacy much older than the Founders. As old as the Earth itself, Harry suspected. They sat together in silence awhile, just absorbing the atmosphere, until finally Harry spoke.

"So why the solitary walk, Severus?"

It was nosey and intrusive; Severus could easily tell him to go to hell. But Harry didn't think he would, not here, not now.

"It's simple, Harry. I don't fit in; I know I don't feel like the others. It's always been that way for me; it's just more obvious in Gryffindor."

"Hm. I understand, only too well."

Severus turned his head at that and looked at Harry for the first time. "What? You understand? What is it you think you understand?"

"All of it. The separateness, the unwanted childhood, the lack of friends. Of course I understand, it was my life too for eleven years, and still is in the summer. How can I not understand, Severus? Haven't you noticed I'm different too? You don't think of me as just another student; I know you don't."

Severus shrugged, but he did not deny it. "What can you know about my life?"

"I know a bit; I can't tell you how, but I do, Severus. Please, just trust me. If you want, you can see my childhood; I'll let you look."

Harry turned sideways on the log, casting his right leg over and sitting astride as if he was on horseback.

Severus frowned at him, then turned to face him, sitting the same way. "I've only just started practising Legilimency. You'd let me look into your mind?"

Harry knew this was about trust; it had always been about trust with Severus, both this younger version and the older one. He'd failed before. Failed to trust Severus Snape, but he could show Severus Prince that he trusted him. "Look."

So Severus put his hands to either side of Harry's face, not touching him yet. "I have to touch you," he explained solemnly, "because I'm not very good yet and the touch links me to you, helps to establish the link between our minds. Is that all right?"

Harry nodded slightly, his green eyes locked on Severus' nearly black ones.

Severus moved his hands the final inches, and the touch of his long, cool fingers sent a jolt of sensation down Harry's spine. He tried to work out why, but then Severus said, "Legilimens."

Dudley, laughing, his fat face twisted into a malicious mask as he kicked the smaller boy he'd knocked to the ground. The other kids in the playground looked on. Harry didn't know if they were laughing too, or felt sorry for him, or were just curious. It didn't really matter, because Harry could never have any friends; he knew it and had accepted it by his second year of primary school. All Harry knew was the sharp jab of Dudley's leather shoe, a hefty style that was more of a boot, and the jeering chant of: "Potter's a freak! Potter's a freak!" which was taken up by many voices, Harry didn't know who, he could only hear the sound of Dudley's derisive hatred…

Aunt Marge giving Dudley sweets, then telling Harry there were none for freaks…

Uncle Vernon pulling him along by the hair, shoving him into the cupboard so he fell against the frame of his metal cot and scraped his knees, the door locking before he could turn. Being surrounded by darkness, because the light bulb was dead again. Uncle Vernon shutting the grille, shutting off the little light that had crept in through the slats, growling about Harry's 'unnaturalness… freakish ways… he was the offspring of worthless vagrants'…

Severus gasped, immediately uncomfortable in Harry's memories. His mind squirmed inside Harry's and he sought to get out quickly. He pulled away and Harry cried out, a jolt of pain passing through his head. Severus fell back, then slipped sideways off the log, and Harry crumpled backwards, also landing on the forest floor on the other side.

"Harry," Severus gasped, "I'm sorry. Are you all right? Oh Merlin, I shouldn't have tried it yet; I wasn't properly prepared. I've read the section on how to leave the subject's mind, but I haven't studied it enough. I suppose I panicked," Severus gabbled, scrambling over the log to the crumpled figure on the other side.

Harry moaned, but opened his eyes, and Severus heaved a sigh of relief. Harry's intelligence was there in that gaze; Severus could hope he'd done no damage beyond a headache. Merlin, he'd be more careful in future! Learn to walk before he could run, because he couldn't afford to hurt Harry.

Severus helped his friend to his feet and supported him as they walked back, moving slowly. Soon Harry was able to walk alone, and he assured Severus again and again that it was all right, that there was no harm done, and he was glad that now Severus knew he understood, because he really did.

And Severus accepted it, and now he talked, releasing an outpouring of his worries like a dam bursting. "I have these weird dreams, just like they're real. I see myself doing things, Harry, some awful things, some grown-up things, and I know I've never done them, because there's sex in them too." Severus blushed as red as the sunset. "I never could! I know I never could. But… but I'm really there in the dream, Harry, and I'm older, and yet I know it's me – it's just like me!"

Severus was shaking and stopped to lean against a large pine. Harry just stood beside him, unsure whether to touch him or just to offer his silent support. He went with the latter, which was safe.

"Merlin, Harry, the things I do! And not just awful things, like torturing people with horrible curses, but the sex things…"

Severus whimpered – a sound of despair. It was too much for Harry to stay aloof and he put his hand on Severus' shoulder, and suddenly Severus leaned in to him and Harry could only put his arms around the slender young man, and hold on.

"It's not real, Severus, it's not real, it's not going to happen," Harry crooned against Severus' shoulder. Severus' head dipped down to rest on Harry's shoulder, and Harry felt so needed. Not as the saviour of the Wizarding world, not as the Boy Who Lived, not as the Gryffindor Seeker – the youngest for a century. No, Harry felt needed by one other person, needed one-to-one, and it felt good. And Harry felt strong, and he stroked his hands down Severus' back, soothing, as he spoke those words of assurance over and over again: "It's not real, it's all a dream, it won't happen, Severus."

Chapter 8: The Stupid Game

Later that day, at the Gryffindor Saturday party, where groups tended to form by years, the sixth years decided to play Truth or Dare. That is, Seamus and Dean decided that was what the evening's entertainment should consist of, because chess was just a two-person game and tournaments took to long; cards rarely involved more than four and Exploding Snap was for little kids. So, with different degrees of eagerness, the sixth years joined in, some with embarrassed giggles or outright bawdy comments. Hermione sniffed, as if she was above such things, but when Ron went and sat in the forming circle she followed him, declaring she would have to keep an eye on him.

Harry hung back, waiting to see what Severus would do.

"Come on, Severus, get over here!" Ron called, gesturing with his arm. Severus just scowled at the redhead. "And you, Harry, what are you dawdling for? Got something you need to keep secret?" Ron leered.

Harry took a couple of steps towards them, but came to a sudden halt as Severus spoke up from behind him, loudly.

"I have better things to do than play moronic games with numbskulls like you, Finnegan."

And with that Severus whirled and headed for the portrait hole. Harry looked helplessly at his friends, watched their reaction to Severus' comment, then shrugged at Ron, who was looking dumbstruck, turned, and hurried off after Severus Prince.

"Bloody git, that Prince," he heard Seamus saying. "Who does he think he is? Even Hermione's joining in."

Harry exited the common room to the derisive laughter of his year mates, intended not for him, but for the young man he was pursuing.

There, ahead, was Severus, hurrying along the corridor heading for the grand staircase. "Severus! Wait!"

But this time Severus did not wait, he kept walking, hurrying so that he was in fact almost running. Harry broke into an outright run after him, determined not to lose him this time, finally catching up with Severus on the staircase as he made his way down.

"Severus, where are you going? Wait!" Harry panted, putting a hand on Severus' shoulder.

Severus whirled to face Harry. His face was as pale as milk, and his expression as agitated as Harry had ever seen it. "Just leave me alone, Potter! I don't need help from the great Gryffindor Seeker. You claim to be my friend, but you're not, you're one of them!" he spat, flinging his arm out in the direction they'd come from. "Don't think I don't know you're only going around with me because of Dumbledore. Now leave me the fuck alone!"

Harry's mouth fell open in shock as Severus whirled away from him and rushed on down the staircase. At a complete loss, Harry found he wasn't able to follow. Where the hell had all that suddenly come from? And why?

Severus wandered the corridors of the school. It was Saturday night and there were surprisingly few people around; most of the students were probably in their common rooms together – partying, Severus thought with a sneer. There were a few in the Astronomy Tower, no doubt, but Severus avoided that place. Finally, after hours of aimless wandering, visiting quiet areas of the castle most students never strayed into, he had no choice but to go back to Gryffindor Tower. It was long after curfew, but he didn't get caught; Severus Snape knew how to hide and avoid notice, he'd been doing it all his life – first from his drunken father, then from his bullying schoolmates. With luck everyone would be in their dorms by now, except possibly Granger, who often stayed up late to read or study. If she was still up Severus would ignore her, and she'd probably do the same, unless she chose to take points for being out after curfew. She was such a stickler for rules she might do that, even if it was from her own House. Stupid Gryffindor code! Really, he'd be better off in Slytherin; Severus was sure this change of house was all down to Dumbledore, and his plan to get Harry Potter to 'look after' Severus Prince. Severus snorted; whatever the old man was up to, it was as random as his choice in clothing.

Severus was lucky; Hermione had gone to bed, or at least moved somewhere else, along with the rest of their year. Come to think of it, hadn't she joined in their little game, along with her inane would-be boyfriend, Potter's ginger-haired sycophant? Maybe they'd found a disused classroom to play their risqué little games in. Severus didn't care; he only knew he was well off out of it. He could hide the truth from people well enough if he chose to – most times anyway – but that was one scenario he had needed to avoid. 'Truth or Dare' indeed! As if they ever asked anything that wasn't inappropriately personal, and nearly always sexual; Severus had no wish for his secret to come out here, in this future where, so far, he was untainted by rumour. No, you wouldn't catch Severus Prince joining in with such a game, even if he was getting the hang of Occlumency and could almost certainly lie to the Gryffindors undetected.

The problem was that he'd been caught in such a game once before, in Slytherin, and had ended up with a face as red as a Gryffindor cloak. He might be able to occlude, but he couldn't stop himself blushing at the most awkward times, and that, he'd found, was as much of an answer as verbalisation.

There were only a few seventh years up late, sitting by the fire and talking quietly. They ignored Severus, so Severus passed through, went up the stairs and entered his dorm, ignoring Neville's sleepy question about where he'd been all this time. Seamus and Dean were there, talking together; they muttered and gave him black looks as he passed, but didn't speak to him. It was all water off a duck's back to Severus and he hurried over to his bed. So, with no revelations from the newest Gryffindor to keep them amused, their game had probably ended quite quickly. Severus felt some satisfaction at that.

Harry didn't look up from the book he was reading as Severus moved to the bed next to him and began to get ready for bed. Severus briefly wondered if he'd hurt Harry somehow; but why? His angry words had to be true, for who'd genuinely want to befriend someone like him? He'd always been different from others: that was one thing that hadn't changed and was just as true now as it had been in his own time. Yes, Harry thought he understood, thought he was the same, but Harry didn't know all of it. And Harry certainly wasn't the same as Severus in this. No, if Harry found out Severus' secret he'd disown him, and probably spread it all around the school, just as happened before.

No, it was better this way. Severus had known the friendship couldn't last.

Severus got ready for bed in silence and slipped between the cool, cotton sheets, appreciating the comfort. He glanced sideways, but Harry was still reading, not that he cared.... Severus closed his eyes, but did not sleep. Not for a long while.

Images danced behind his eyelids. Images of a girl with red hair, a girl he remembered and missed with an ache that felt like someone had shot him through the heart; she was laughing and hugging him, and he was happy – he was happy and the feeling was so sweet and new to him that it was painful. And she, Lily Evans, his Lily, was Harry's mother. The thought brought more pain, but there was a strange sweetness with it too. Severus squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and refused to let moisture pool behind his lids.

But as Severus lay there the scene shifted, and suddenly there were too many images of things he didn't remember. They were images he needed to disown; Severus didn't understand why they were playing in his mind. Images of a thin, skeletal man with compelling eyes that glowed red in the torchlight; images of a mass of dark-robed figures standing in a circle around a fallen body, laughing and jeering, the sounds distorted, muted as in a dream, but still recognisable in their cruelty. Images of a hand – his own hand – the finger extended and pointing at the fallen person. And finally, most poignantly, there was an image that he recognised as someone from this life; someone who was not a figment of his imagination. It was the image of a skinny, bespectacled boy lining up to be Sorted. It was Harry Potter, nervously looking up at the High Table, at the man who sat there.

And Severus recognised that man immediately.

He scrunched up his face and his eyes then, tightly. It was a sure way of staving off tears.

Harry had the strongest sense of déjà vu. Those bitter words, flung at him by a desperate young man, reminded him of words of repudiation he'd heard before. In Snape's Pensieve. Words that had defined his untrustworthiness to the adult Snape; his knowledge of those words had been as bitter as gall to his professor. And now they were repeated, their cadence and meaning the same for Harry as for his mother. And Harry could see Severus' desperation in them, just as he'd seen when he'd been an onlooker in the Pensieve. Severus was hurting, badly; and he was desperate not to be pitied for it. But Harry wasn't going to pity him, nor was he going to back off. Not this time. He'd give Severus some space, let him heal from this episode, but he wouldn't repudiate him. And when it was safe to do so, Harry would close in again.

Because he was Severus' friend, whether Severus recognised it or not.

Harry couldn't blame his mum for her reaction to Severus back then, but Harry was determined to give the adolescent version of Severus Snape another chance. He was going to find out what had happened here tonight, why Severus had reacted so badly to the offer to join in with a game. It was just a stupid game, often enough, and could be embarrassing, but nothing to make Severus panic like that, surely.

And yet it had.

Chapter 9: The Vow

Madam Pince peered down her long nose at the slip of parchment, then waved her wand over it, nodding when the ink glowed silver. "Very well, Mr Prince; though this is most irregular. Most irregular indeed."

Severus never spoke, merely followed quietly as Madam Pince led him to a locked side room off the main library. It wasn't the Restricted Section. It was the Warded Section.

"Students are not normally allowed in here, Mr Prince. I am unsure why the headmaster would give you such a pass, but it is not my job to know why. I am the guardian of the books, and your permission slip is valid, so here you are."

Here he was indeed. Severus stood in the centre of a moderately large room, looking at shelf upon shelf of books about the Dark Arts. Books that were no longer part of the curriculum here, though they had been in the past.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, and Pince nodded as she left.

"Just let me know when you've finished. The room will restore its wards and locks when you leave it."

"I will need to come again."

Madam Pince chuckled, a dry sound almost like the turning of pages; a sound rarely heard in the Hogwarts library, at least by the students. "I thought you might. Just come to the desk and I'll let you in."

Severus thanked her again, and she left.

Harry looked up as Madam Pince passed his desk. He closed Magical Plants for Competent Practitioners and tucked it under his arm, following her to the front desk.

"I'd like to take this book out, please."

Pince nodded and with a flick of her wand, recorded the issue.

"What is that room you just took Severus into?" Harry asked as innocently as he could.

"It is no business of yours, Mr Potter. If Mr Prince chooses to tell you, that is up to him, but it is not my place to talk about other students' work."

Harry nodded, looking abashed, and took his book. He felt the librarian's eyes on him as he left. He wasn't really abashed, he was just getting good at acting. Harry knew Pince didn't dislike him, so was fairly sure she'd make nothing of it. But Harry knew it was important. Severus was up to something, and Harry wanted to know what. He wanted to be a part of Severus' life. If it was a special project, Harry wanted in. So he hung about, waiting outside the library door, for Severus would have to emerge, eventually.

In the end it took over two hours, and taxed Harry's patience to its limit. But he won this mini-battle, and when Severus emerged looking rather the worse for wear. Harry went over to him. Severus' sleeve was scorched from the wrist to the elbow, and the side of his right hand looked reddened – burnt. Severus saw him looking and shoved it in his pocket, struggling to hold his book bag with his left arm.

"Carry your books for you, young man?"

Severus gave him an incredulous look. "What?"

"Can I carry your books for you? Your bag looks heavy."

"Of course it's heavy! I'm studying for my NEWTs and I'm taking every subject except Divination."

Harry smirked. "And some extras too, eh?"

"What?" Severus' voice was suspicious now. "What do you mean by that?"

"I saw Pince letting you into that room. What is it, Severus?"

"None of your business, that's what it is."

"But it could be. I could help you."

"I do not need help." Severus smirked again. "I do quite well in all my subjects without others' help."

"You're brilliant, I know," Harry agreed, not mockingly. "But I'm good at some things. I bet I could help."

"I have told you, I do not need your help."

Harry shrugged. "I just thought it would be fun. You know, companionable."

Severus stopped walking and sighed. "Why do you persist in hounding me, Potter? Do you dislike me that much?"

Harry stopped short and looked at him. "Quite the reverse, Severus. I genuinely like you. You're my friend."

Severus snorted.

Harry just smiled gently, not breaking eye contact. Finally, Severus shook his head and continued walking.

About a hundred paces further on, he said, "I'm studying the Dark Arts."

Well, Harry hadn't expected that. He let out his breath in a whoosh. "How did you manage to get Pince to let you do that? And what is that room?"

"Dumbledore gave me a letter of permission."

Harry was rocked by that, too. "Really? Why?"

"It has always been an interest of mine. I already know a lot about it…" Severus mused, "… though I cannot remember where or when I learned it all. Still, the headmaster thought I would make a good defender if I understood the Dark Arts fully; he said I was halfway there already, so I might as well finish the journey. He also said he'd keep a close eye on me and stop it if he was at all worried I couldn't cope. But that won't happen," Severus added with conviction.

Harry still couldn't understand it. Didn't Dumbledore want to keep this young Severus away from Voldemort? To Harry it looked like Dumbledore was almost encouraging Severus to make the same mistake twice. Well, Harry wasn't about to let that happen. "Please, Severus. I'm good at Defence, you know I am. Second only to you. Please let me help you with this. Those books are probably dangerous; you could get into difficulties and there'd be no one there to help you. I won't be a pain; I'd just study alongside you."

Severus looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, but he said nothing.

Harry remembered the suspicion Severus seemed to entertain about everyone, even Harry, after the sixth years had played that foolish game the other night. He'd pondered and pondered its significance, and decided that Severus had a secret, something he didn't want anyone in Gryffindor to discover. Harry didn't care about it, whatever it was; he just wanted his friend back. "I won't tell your secrets, Severus. I'll take an oath if you want."

Severus stopped again, turned and stared intently at Harry, searching his eyes for trickery. Finally he nodded sharply. "If you'll take an Unbreakable Vow, then I'll let you."

Harry could see that Severus expected him to refuse such an extreme request, but Harry was a true Gryffindor, and he wanted – no, he needed – this closeness with Severus. He'd had it for a brief time, he'd almost kept it; but it had slipped though his fingers, vanishing like mist. He was going to get it back, and this time it would be permanent. The Vow would assure that. Harry smiled. "Who will be our bonder?"

Severus' eyebrows rose, but he answered. "Granger."

Harry nodded. "I'll tell her. When shall we do it, and where?"

"Tonight, in the Owlery. No one goes there after dark."

Harry didn't wonder how Severus knew that. He knew so much about Hogwarts, about lots of things; no doubt much of it came from his former life, and possibly from his teaching years, though Harry was fairly sure Severus wasn't aware of its origin. He nodded. "That's fine; we'll go from the common room when Ron's playing chess. He does it every evening for at least an hour, between periods of pestering Hermione to walk with him. We'll have to pick our moment carefully."

It was dark, but the air felt dry, full of the dust from birds' feathers and the myriad of owl pellets that littered the floor. Hermione sneezed.

Severus stood in the centre of the space and turned a full circle, wand extended, lips moving as he murmured a spell. Satisfied, he said, "No one's here, and there are no surveillance spells. Let's get on with it."

That said, Severus knelt in front of Harry and took his hands, looking more like a dark knight swearing fealty than a supplicant. Hermione extended her wand, quietly casting the binding spell. Severus spoke.

"Will you swear an Unbreakable Vow?"

"I will."

"Will you, Harry Potter, swear to keep all new knowledge and discoveries about the Dark Arts, and about me, Severus, secret from all others unless I give you permission to tell them?"

"I will."

That was all it took. A red light emerged from Hermione's wand and curled itself around their clasped hands, extending from there up Severus' arm to the armpit, and the same distance up Harry's arm. It felt warm; it would have been almost comforting except for the hint of constriction they both felt from it. But then it faded, its light seeming to shrink into their arms. Harry hoped it was a mere illusion, but he was fairly sure it wasn't. He had taken an Unbreakable Vow, and now Severus' secrets were Harry's secrets too.

Harry could almost feel insulted that he'd had to go this far before Severus would believe in his friendship and accept that he wasn't about to tell Severus' personal matters to his housemates. Almost… until he remembered that this was Severus Prince, née Snape, and thus he was a man who had learned to keep his secrets safe, for any slip could mean his life. Harry's hand lingered in Severus' grasp and the other man did not seem to want to let him go.

Hermione watched it all quietly, but she never said a word. If she thought it strange, she kept her council. She had been a good choice for that reason.

The moment spun out, dreamlike in the moonlit setting, surreal as any dream with its audience of owls. Until Severus seemed to come back to himself; whatever the vow meant to him was now internalised, and he released Harry's hands with a slight nod. "We'd best get back to the common room, before anyone notices we've been away."

Chapter 10: Alone, Together

They worked well together, as they'd both known they would. Severus was once again the friend Harry had managed to make of him so briefly before, but he was obviously more relaxed about it this time. And so Harry considered the vow he'd taken well worthwhile.

Harry was nervous, for the first time, of Dumbledore's motives. Was the headmaster really scheming to get Severus back to Voldemort, to have his spy again even if the young Snape didn't regain his previous age and maturity? And what of Voldemort? Had he missed Snape, did he have agents out trying to track the elusive ex-Potions professor? Harry carried these worries around with him, while Severus seemed to have shed his own anxieties with the vow.

And so their relationship subtly changed; Severus supported Harry now just as often as Harry supported Severus. It was so much like a true, lasting friendship that Harry was content, and he hardly missed Ron and Hermione's constant presence at all. Their own companionship seemed to be morphing into something more, albeit slowly, so Harry was quietly optimistic for all of them. The only fly in the ointment was Ginny, who pursued him with flirtatious looks and comments, which Harry found simply embarrassing.

And Harry was finding something else to worry about too. He was becoming fascinated by Severus' dark eyes. They haunted him, by day and by night when he lay in his bed; even with his eyes closed he could still see them. Severus' eyes seemed linked to his soul. Was that because of the vow? Harry hoped so, because anything else was just… disturbing.

Harry hadn't thought much about sex before – he hadn't had the time. When he did think about it, it involved vague images of a soft, perfumed body lying beneath him; the sexual act's purpose was something to do with love and marriage and kids, and always seemed unconnected to his current situation, which always seemed to revolve around Voldemort. Sex was something for the future, not for now. And certainly not for those dark eyes… not for a man.

Shaking his head, Harry forced himself to concentrate on more realistic thoughts, focussing back on their current situation. The unfairness of Severus' circumstances worried Harry. Dumbledore was an unknown factor, one he feared. Harry was desperate to keep this Severus away from the Death Eaters, and on the face of it that should be easy. Severus Prince was in Gryffindor; they didn't get approached by Death Eaters, did they, no matter now good they might be at DADA. But Harry couldn't help having that niggling worry, for why else was Dumbledore encouraging Severus' Dark studies? Harry knew, from studying alongside Severus, and once or twice rescuing him and healing him during those sessions, that the books Severus was studying were not to be taken lightly. He couldn't help thinking that Dumbledore was encouraging Severus to take the same path the young Severus Snape had taken back in the 70s. And Harry didn't like that thought, not at all. Nor did he intend to let it happen again.

Harry was going to keep Severus away from that madman's clutches, and if Dumbledore lost his spy, well that was just too bad. Severus had suffered enough for one lifetime, he wasn't about to let Severus have to do it all over again.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Severus' dark eyes fixed on him with concern. Those eyes… oh, damn! "Yeah?"

"What's up? You looked really grim."

"Just thinking, Severus. It's nothing really, just the atmosphere of these books, I think." He looked down at the gruesome figure etched between the text he was reading – a man being stretched on the rack, depicted very graphically, his tortured expression almost lovingly rendered – surely from life. It turned his stomach; he could almost hear the screams. Harry swallowed.

Severus' long fingers touched the back of Harry's hand where it held the book open. The contact was shocking to Harry, jolting him out of his distressed mood. They hadn't touched in any way since the night of the vow. Now Severus' hand covered his own, and Harry closed his eyes, comforted.

"You're not alone," Severus said quietly. "We're not alone anymore, are we?"

Harry opened his eyes, and smiled. And Severus, while he did not smile, gave Harry a look that gleamed with satisfaction.

I love his eyes; the colour, the brightness of them – of him. Harry isn't perfect – who is? – but he is good. I can feel it when he's by my side; goodness in the midst of all this darkness. His light is a beacon that guides me out of these books, in which I could easily get lost, were he not here. That first evening, when I came in here alone. It was downright scary, but my heart beat wildly and I felt adrenalin sharpening my reactions. I felt alive as I faced these books, this magic… and I damned near got my arm bitten off by a fire-tongue that lashed out of a powerful tome that had cloaked itself to appear harmless.

So I told myself I let Harry come in with me because of safety issues. I know I'm susceptible to these books, to having my mind and soul dragged in by the dark magic and never released, even if my body remained free. But although that was true, it was also a lie. I brought Harry here with me because here we would be alone together; the only ones doing this, the only ones in the entire school. We're alone in here, and he's vowed to silence. He's not the Gryffindor Golden Boy here – he's just Harry. And I can watch him, and look into his eyes.

In here, he's mine.

Severus had just left the hospital wing, hurrying away and showing every sign of being glad to get out. He had a standing appointment to report to Madam Pomfrey every Sunday morning for a prolonged test, which would accurately show his age – the real-time age of his body, not whatever he or anyone else believed it to be. This time, as every time so far, his age was not markedly different from when he was first de-aged – Severus was only a matter of weeks older.

Poppy Pomfrey firecalled the headmaster, and when he arrived in her office, she told him the news. "In short, Albus, he's not aging any quicker than anyone else."

"That's bad news, Poppy."

"Well…" Pomfrey shrugged as she spoke. "It's what's happening, Albus. Severus – that is to say Mr Prince – is still fifteen years old. He does seem to have settled into Gryffindor very well though."

At that, the headmaster looked sour. "That's not much comfort, Poppy. I've lost a teacher and the Order has lost its spy."

"Harry has another friend though."

"He had good friends; he hardly needed another."

"I disagree," Poppy said. "I've noticed the closeness between Harry and Severus. I think Severus is a different kind of friend, if you follow me." The nurse gave Albus a significant look.

Albus looked up, surprised, and not for the first time, by Pomfrey's perceptiveness. "Really? Well, I suppose that might be… useful."

"Well, I've no idea of the larger picture or why it might be useful to you," the nurse said briskly. "But from my viewpoint it's good for both of them. They're both vulnerable and need support."

Albus nodded, then spoke quietly, thoughtfully. "I had no idea that Harry was... ah, well, I cannot help but see Fate's hand in this."

Poppy smiled. "I'm sure you're right, Albus. I see it nearly every day – for good and for ill. This time – and rarely in Severus' life, I think – it is for good."

Severus hurried back to the common room. Visiting the hospital always made him feel slightly nauseous, almost as if his body remembered illnesses and injuries his mind could no longer recall. He sighed with relief as he passed through the portrait hole. It suddenly occurred to him that he equated Gryffindor Tower with home now, and that was surprising; he'd never expected to be able to settle anywhere but in Slytherin.

Harry and Ron looked up as he approached the corner where the sixth year boys were sitting together, heads close to each other, obviously discussing something. Ron waved him over, and Harry shuffled up on the settee he was sharing with Ron so Severus could sit on the end. He settled in place next to Harry. It was a tight fit; Severus was slender, almost to the point of thinness, and Harry was not much wider, but the settee was a two-seater, and Ron took up his fair share of it. Ron was not only tall, he was also brawny, no doubt from all the exercise he took with his older brothers during the summer holidays. Not to mention Mrs Weasley's cooking, which Harry often raved about. Severus remembered his mum's culinary efforts, and grimaced. Eileen Snape had been no chef, even though she was good at Potions. It was as if the mundane, Muggle practice of cooking on a stove was beneath her. Eileen long ago ceased using magic in the home; it just wasn't worth the arguments that always followed. Severus' dad was a towering, angry figure in his mind, and he quickly changed his focus from memories to what the boys were currently discussing.

"I tell you," Seamus Finnegan said quietly, but with great animation, "I saw Neville go off behind the greenhouses with Hannah Abbot. And he was gone a mighty long time."

"Huh, that's just daft!" Ron scoffed. "If any of us is going to go all the way, it's not going to be Neville. He's just too…"

"Nice," Harry said, interrupting. "And maybe that's exactly why he will. Because girls like nice, don't they?"

Seamus gave Harry a pitying look. "Where d'you get that idea from, Harry? Girls like bad boys, a bit of excitement. Someone who'll make their heart beat faster."

Dean Thomas started to laugh, and Ron grinned. "And you reckon you could do that, do you, Seamus?" Ron asked the Irish boy.

"I reckon I could. If they'd give me a chance," he added ruefully.

Dean continued to laugh, but Seamus shushed him. "Shut up, Dean, the others are looking! D'you want them to know we're all virgins, you prat?"

Dean shut up immediately, and Harry quirked a grin at Severus. "What do you think, Severus? You've not said a word yet."

Severus paled and looked down his long nose at Harry. "I do not waste time wondering who in this school is no longer a virgin. Such matters are of supreme disinterest to me."

Seamus looked at Severus with disbelief. "Disinterest? How can sex not be interesting, Severus? What are you, a statue?"

Ron frowned at Seamus, and looked as if he was about to tell him to shut up, but Severus got to his feet, looking every long inch the offended scholar.

"I will go to the library, I believe. No doubt I will manage to find something worthwhile to occupy my time there."

Severus stalked off to the portrait door, and Harry would have let him go, except he'd heard the minute waver in Severus' voice, and remembered the young man's reaction to the Truth or Dare game. This could be more of the same.

"I, er, think I ought to go too. That Potions essay, you know."

The remaining three sixth year boys watched Harry chase off after Severus.

"You know," Dean mused, "if I didn't know better I'd think Harry fancied him."

Seamus guffawed, but Ron looked at the closed door, his mind awhirl. Nothing had been the same with Harry since Severus arrived. The Prince boy had as much impact on his friend as the old Potions master, the other Severus, had. There must be something about people with the name 'Severus' that affected Harry, for better or worse, and Ron wondered just what it was.

Chapter 12: Resolution

Harry walked quickly after Severus, who was hurrying along the corridor in the direction of the library. Some extra study time in the library wouldn't hurt anyway, and he wanted to show his support of Severus by being with him, even if Severus didn't want to talk. From his behaviour, Harry thought Severus was probably more mixed up about sex than he was; not that Harry knew much about it. Until Severus had arrived, Harry had been the one sitting awkwardly by while the other boys talked about it; he understood that feeling well enough, but he never ran off like Severus always seemed to. Not that he'd use those words in Severus' presence. Severus would say he wasn't running off – he was just far more studious and sensible than those numbskulls. Harry could hear his voice in his mind as he hurried along, and he couldn't help breaking out in a little grin.

But Severus, surprisingly, turned off the route to the library into a boy's bathroom. Perhaps he needed to use the toilet, so Harry slowed down, not wanting to embarrass him.

When he entered the bathroom after giving Severus enough time to go to the loo, he found Severus in there, but he was not washing his hands, he was pacing up and down. Severus' eyes were fixed on the floor tiles, as if he was searching for something, some answer there.

"What's up, Severus?"

Severus came to a halt. He looked up, his face impassive, watching Harry from across the length of the bathroom. "Leave me alone, Harry. Can't I have any privacy in this bloody school?"

Harry was quite used to Severus by now, and he immediately saw the defence mechanism for what it was. "No, I'm not going, Severus; I'm your friend and I want to know what's the matter. You were the same over that Truth or Dare incident. So don't start telling me it's nothing, because you've obviously got a problem and I want to help you."

Severus flung up his hands in a dramatic gesture, as if he was giving up. His face twisted from its previous controlled mask and suddenly his eyes looked haunted; he looked like a man facing his worst nightmare. "Look, I hate it, all right!"

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that. "What?" was all he managed to say, faintly.

Severus sighed then, and his shoulders drooped, he cast his gaze down to the tiled floor again, turning his body sideways as if unsure whether to face Harry or turn right away from him. "All of it," he said, his voice almost a moan. "All of it. I just hate it. Look, leave me alone now, Harry. Please."

But Harry wasn't going to do that, not now. Severus was talking, and Harry could sense he was moments away from finding out what made the other boy tick. Carefully, he approached Severus as if he was a flighty animal, not getting too close, but closing the distance between them, wanting Severus to see the closeness as metaphorical as well as literal. "Do you mean sex?" he asked, quietly.

Severus whirled back to face Harry, his robe billowing in a manner his adult self would come to perfect. "Of course I do, you brainless twit! I hate it! What chance have I got? You know what everyone says about me – I've got a big nose, I'm ugly and skinny, my hair's greasy, I've got spots. No one would ever want me, you idiot, so why should I spend time talking about it? Waiting for the others to make jokes about me, just like they do with Neville, but with me it would be genuinely spiteful, not pitying. Because I've always been different, I'll never be accepted by most of them, and you only-"

"Don't you dare!" Harry yelled, interrupting the flow angrily. "Don't you dare say I'm the same as them, or I'm only following you about because of Dumbledore. You know that's not true! You know that, Severus, ever since we started studying together in the Warded Room. I'm not like them either. And as for your looks – you're no worse off than Ron or Neville, or even Seamus, for all his bragging. And besides, girls aren't like that, they like boys for lots of reasons…" Harry trailed off; suddenly aware he didn't really know much about what girls were looking for in a partner.

Severus flung up his hands again. "Harry, you utter prat, you just don't get it, do you?" he cried, more exasperated than angry now and sounding so un-Snapelike that Harry couldn't help but gape. "I don't want the bloody girls! Haven't you realised it yet? I like boys!"

Harry hadn't realised it, no. In fact he was quite taken aback, and he stepped back, his mouth open in shock, his knees gone weak.

Severus didn't miss the movement; to him it was answer enough. He sneered. "You see? I knew it would be like that with you too." Severus' face twisted into an ugly mask of bitterness. "You, with your offer of friendship. Friendship, huh! It's always like this – okay until the 'friend' finds out, and then he backs off, just like everyone else would do, scared of being tainted by the stigma, scared I'll jump him, perhaps. Merlin knows what he's scared of, but I can see it now, in your eyes." Severus laughed, bitterly. "They all felt that way in Slytherin and you Gryffindors will be the same. You don't hear any of them talking about same-sex partners, do you? The whole thing's horrible, isn't it, Harry? Just how disgusting is the thought of touching me now?"

Severus turned away again, shoulders slumped. He looked defeated, as cowed as if Harry had physically beaten him. Harry paused; he felt he was standing at a crossroads in his life – in Severus' life. He could turn and leave, as Severus expected him to, leaving the other man alone here with his bitterness. Or… Harry stepped forward again and put his hand on Severus' shoulder. "No."

Severus seemed frozen, and he spoke in a voice so lacking its normal power that it was a mere whisper into the air: "No? What?"

"No, it's not disgusting, or horrible, to think of touching you."

Harry, who knew next to nothing himself, nevertheless knew instinctively what to do here. Severus had no self-confidence at all about sex; so despite his inexperience Harry knew he had to lead. Where the idea came from, to lead Severus in some kind of sexual dance, he had no idea, but suddenly it was there, fully formed in his mind. And so Harry used the hand on Severus' shoulder to turn him around. He looked into Severus' dark eyes, and smiled.

"Come here," he said. "You're so wrong, Severus, and I'm going to show you."

And so saying, Harry leaned in, tilted his head up, moved the hand from Severus' shoulder to the back of his head and pulled the tall boy down into a kiss.

It was pretty awful at first: sloppy and fumbling. Neither boy had much idea, but Harry was enthusiastic and driven, determined to kiss Severus, so it got better.

Harry used his lips to make Severus respond, and Severus couldn't help but do so. It was amazing to him, that someone – that Harry, his only friend – should want to do this. At first he'd been numb, shocked and amazed, but that wore off quickly, and Severus responded, gathering Harry into his arms, holding him there, wanting to keep him now he'd got him. Severus' body lit up at the physical contact, something that felt like jolts of electricity or lightning ran through his limbs, down his spine, and his cock hardened immediately, heavy and hot under his robes. He shifted Harry's body in his arms to make himself comfortable, and to his joy felt Harry was similarly affected. Severus lifted his head and looked down into Harry's flushed face.

"Let's find somewhere better than this," he panted.

"Yeah," Harry replied, equally breathlessly, "but where? The Astronomy Tower's out, we'd be discovered."

Severus smirked. "There's somewhere only you and I have access to." Harry looked mystified. "The Warded Room."

And Harry grinned.

As usual Madam Pince had let them in; thinking nothing of it, for the boys often studied their private project at the weekend. Harry looked around at the tall bookshelves, at the light spilling in through the long, narrow window that reminded him of a chapel. The sky was clear blue, and Ron and some of the others would no doubt be out flying soon. Harry's heart was already racing, just as if he was speeding on his broom.

Once the door closed behind them, Severus pulled Harry into his arms for another kiss. When they broke apart for air, both boys looked flushed and their hair was messed up, sticking out at strange angles from their heads where they'd run eager fingers through each other's hair. It was as if they couldn't stop touching each other now they'd started; even now they were holding onto each other, panting lightly.

"Gods, this is intense," Harry said.

"Yeah," was all Severus could manage, shakily.

It made Harry smile that his erudite friend was speechless for once. Severus never wasted words, but he was never short of them when he needed to speak. Except now. Harry grinned and brought one hand round between them. He moved it down, feeling Severus' ribs and his flat stomach under his shirt, then finding what he was looking for; he pressed his hand against the hard bulge in Severus' trousers.

Severus moaned.

Harry laughed; a sound of joy that even Severus could not mistake as mockery. Harry brought his other hand round and started to open Severus' trousers.

A panicky look came into Severus' eyes then. "Stop!"

Harry stopped immediately, but he didn't move his hands away. "What's the matter?"

"Don't –" Severus sounded lost now.

Harry held his gaze, looking seriously at Severus, trying to judge what the problem was this time. Severus avoided his eyes; his face was flushed with arousal, which was good, but… Harry narrowed his eyes. No… he was not just flushed. However hard it was to believe, Harry realised that Severus was blushing. And suddenly Harry understood. "It's okay, Severus. I just want to make you feel good. I won't look if you don't want me to."

Severus still looked uncertain, but as Harry didn't make any other moves, he nodded, hesitantly.

Harry finished opening Severus' trousers, slipping his hand under the loosened waistband and inside Severus' underpants. Severus' skin was hot and slightly sweaty; his belly was quivering slightly under Harry's fingers. And then Harry touched something very different: Severus' cock was also hot but it was hard, and as Harry's fingers brushed against it, Severus' cock twitched, almost leaping into his hand. Harry slipped his fingers around it, grasping the erection as if it was his own. He knew how to do this all right, and he squeezed lightly, smiling when Severus' eyes drifted shut and he moaned.

"Just relax, Severus," he whispered. "Let me touch you. I promise I won't look if you don't want me to.

Severus nodded; his face was still flushed, his lips parted and his breath coming in little gasps. Harry loved it; the sight of his friend, of a young man he knew would one day be a very powerful wizard, so undone by Harry's hands that he couldn't keep his eyes open. Harry began to move his hand up and down Severus' cock, trying to establish a rhythm. It was difficult with the trousers hanging off Severus' hips; the elastic of his underpants was limiting Harry's movements. With his other hand he pushed the trousers down further and slipped the underpants after them.

Severus' eyes had opened, looking suspiciously at Harry, but when Harry then added his second hand next to the other, cupping Severus' balls, Severus gasped again, his eyes locking onto Harry's with intensity. "That's good," he whispered, "so good."

Harry nodded; able to set up a rhythm now he began to stroke Severus, concentrating on the feel of Severus' cock in his hand and the weight of his balls in the other. "Gods, that's nice," Harry said, surprised to find it was giving him almost as much pleasure to touch Severus as it did to touch himself.

Severus' eyelids fluttered shut; his mouth was still slack and Harry looked down at his thin, moist lips. He was unable to resist and leaned up for a kiss, awkwardly pressing his lips against Severus' as he tried to maintain the rhythm of his hands. It didn't work very well so he backed off, concentrating on stroking Severus to climax, but wanting so badly to kiss him as well. If he'd planned this better they'd be doing it somewhere they could lie down, or sit down, or lean against a wall… but Severus was standing up in the middle of the room and Harry didn't want to stop now, didn't want to interrupt the other boy's obvious pleasure while he found a better position. He'd know next time…

Severus was groaning as if he was in pain; he seemed unable to keep quiet. It was so unlike his normal behaviour, his quiet movements and almost sneaky walk, that Harry knew he was far gone. Harry was breathing fast, almost as excited.

"Oh, gods, Harry…" Severus moaned, and Harry felt the tightening of Severus' balls, the rush of semen as it travelled up his cock and he couldn't help it any longer, his eyes shot downwards to watch as Severus' orgasm hit and he pumped his warm, wet emission from his cock all over Harry's hands.

It was Harry's turn to moan at the sight. "Oh, gods…" He grabbed his own cock with one hand and squeezed, and came inside his clothes. He closed his eyes and dragged his head up again, worried in case Severus had seen him looking. He wasn't sure why Severus was worried about this; the other boy had a lovely cock – it was long and flushed a gorgeous deep rose colour. Harry's mouth watered; it was the first time he'd ever considered sucking a cock, and he couldn't imagine what it would be like. But he thought he might like to find out, and soon.

Severus, meanwhile, was recovering. He opened his eyes and saw Harry standing with his own eyes closed. "Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, it's me."

Severus laughed and pulled him close. "Good job it is; I don't want anyone else. I couldn't do this with anyone else; there's no one I trust."

Harry felt a warm glow inside at these words. He didn't want to think of Severus doing this with anyone else either. "Um, we'd better clean up," he said, realising his hands and their clothes were messy.

Severus grinned a little sheepishly. "Let me; I know a couple of good cleaning spells."

Harry stepped back to let Severus cast the charms, which he did wordlessly, to Harry's admiration. He chuckled at the feel of the cleansing spell, which crawled over his skin, tickling like a little army of ants crawling over him.

"Purgo," Severus explained, amusing Harry at his natural facility for teaching. "It's not the commonest cleaning spell; but it works well for this kind of thing. Gets rid of most of the smell, too." He grinned.

Harry sniffed the air. He could still smell a trace of the distinctive smell of sex, but it was faint. Hopefully by the time Madam Pince came in here again it would be gone. Usually they just shut the door behind them when they left; the locking spells and wards operated automatically to seal the room again. Madam Pince must come in to check on the state of the room sometimes, but she would have learned by now that the boys always left everything tidy and replaced the books in their correct order.

Severus extended his hand to Harry. "Come, let's get down to some work while we're here. We shouldn't leave yet anyway; she might get suspicious we're not coming in here to study. Those cloaking spells need a bit of work."

"Yeah, you're right. But I want to go flying later; it's too nice to stay indoors all day. You coming?"

Severus nodded. "It would be nice," Severus conceded. "Over to Eagle's Crag?"

"Great!"

Strictly speaking, they weren't supposed to fly that far beyond the school wards, but soon after they started flying together both boys had decided that they were safe enough. They were wary whenever they were off school land, and they were both powerful. They were confident they wouldn't be ambushed or captured, and they really enjoyed their flights of exploration. Harry and Severus got their heads down into a book and were soon working on the new Dark cloaking spells, which they were finding brilliant for sneaking about the countryside. They knew better than to try it within school wards, for the school was protected by many spells against the use of Dark magic. It was part of the unique setup of the Warded Room that it allowed them to practice the spells in there. So the boys learned the spells in the room, then tried some of them outside the wards on their flying trips. It was fun, and it bonded them tightly with shared secrets that none of the others could join in with. Severus liked it; it made him less suspicious of Harry. For once he had a friend who was as committed to doing something with Severus as Severus was with him. And now they had this new secret… Severus felt warm inside. He wanted it to stay like this; wanted it very badly. He looked sideways at Harry as Harry tried out the cloaking spell, flickering from his sight for a moment before reappearing; Harry hadn't quite stabilised the magic yet, but Severus knew he'd work on it until he did.

Harry looked at Severus when his spell failed, not holding in place. Severus was looking at him with a fierce, hungry look. "What is it?"

Severus shrugged. He didn't want to tell Harry how much he wanted things to stay the same – how much he needed him. That would be too dangerous. Every instinct told him not to let Harry know how much he needed him. Severus wasn't sure where the instinct came from, but he couldn't deny it. "It's nothing; it's okay. I was just watching you practice. I think I've got it now, and you're nearly there. So, do you want to go flying now?"

Harry was instantly distracted, and they left the Warded Room together, heading for the broom sheds.

Chapter 13: Remembering And Forgetting

During classes, Harry found he couldn't settle. His mind kept going back to Severus. The other boy had returned the favour up on the Eagles' Crag, giving Harry the best orgasm of his life, and Harry wanted it again… and again. His body throbbed with need; his mind kept replaying the memory of Severus' hands on him, his lips on him…

"Mr Potter, concentrate on my class, please," Professor McGonagall snapped. "If I see you daydreaming again, you'll be in detention."

"Yes, Professor, sorry," Harry said, and concentrated harder on his spell work. His attempts so far had been pretty feeble, and Hermione had told him he was using the wrong class of modifier for the transfigurative magic needed to turn sand into wood. It was tricky to turn minerals into vegetative matter, and Harry would never do it if he couldn't get his mind off his cock. He tried again, concentrating fiercely, and finally managed to produce a small pile of wood chippings. It was the best he could manage, and at least he didn't get detention.

Severus had finished his Ancient Runes exercise. He knew he'd rushed it; his writing looked scrawly and took far more room in his exercise book than necessary, but he needed to think, and this was one class he could cruise through without missing anything he didn't already know.

The truth was: Severus was worried. Worse, he was scared by the intensity of his feelings; scared that Harry would find someone – anyone – better than he was. Yes, deep inside Severus knew that Harry wasn't untrustworthy and wouldn't be fickle, but still he feared being dropped. Because he couldn't bear it. The things they did together, the time they spent together, both as friends and … what? Boyfriends, lovers? Well, whatever they were to each other, those times were precious, and Severus couldn't get enough of them.

After each encounter, Severus held onto Harry as if he feared Harry would disappear, vanish like a dream upon awakening. He sometimes thought the whole thing was a dream – yes, even back to his time accident, back to his days in Slytherin. Everything else had a charmed feeling about it, as if it was too good to be real. Severus knew how far-ranging and powerful magic could be; his latest studies merely underscored that. Maybe, somehow, the accident had pitched him into a dream-world, and this, his first sexual relationship, was part of it. It was something he had longed for, dreamed about, but never possessed before. How cruel if it was only a dream, if this wonderful episode was all in his mind! Severus paused, gave himself a hard pinch, and was satisfied when the pain was real and he didn't wake up to some dingy, friendless reality.

No, this was real, even if it was out of time. And so Harry and their relationship were real. And therefore Severus was in danger: in danger of Harry leaving, finding a better boyfriend, and leaving Severus bereft.

Harry, for his part, could feel Severus' fear, and it made him protective. Even though Severus was very brave, as brave as any Gryffindor Harry had ever known, he was very damaged too, even more than Harry himself had been by his upbringing. It made him go slowly, and even though he'd wanted to do more with Severus for some time, Harry held back, wanting to reassure Severus of his intentions, of the seriousness – hell, the honourableness – of his intentions. Only that way would he and Severus ever have a complete personal relationship on a physical level; Harry knew he already had it on the level of their friendship. But Harry wanted it all; he needed to make Severus his companion for life.

That knowledge had burst upon him in a flash of understanding one night as he laid wakeful, turning things over and over in his mind again. He'd thought his insomnia due to the Voldemort situation, but it wasn't that. Suddenly he'd been faced with his deepest, truest feelings about Severus, as if his mind had just decided to let him see the truth. And that truth meant that he needed to complete their relationship on all levels, not just as friends, not just as boyfriends or teenagers experimenting with what felt good. No, this was much more profound. This man was important in Harry's life, had always been, and would be even more so in future. Because Harry wanted a future with Severus, and he thought he might just get one. So he'd gone over and over in his mind how to get Severus to see that too, but hadn't managed to come to any real conclusions about how he could achieve it. Time would tell, as it always did.

Unknown to Harry or Severus, Draco Malfoy had been spying on them. Ever since Harry and Severus had started going off together in the evenings, spending nearly all their spare time together, Draco had been watching. He saw how Potter looked at Severus Prince, and he thought it was an excellent chance to gain blackmail material over Potter, so he kept it to himself, not even letting Crabbe and Goyle into his plans. He'd followed them, and listened from outside whichever room they were using, and waited his chance to use the knowledge he gleaned.

It had to happen; he had to get lucky. He'd find out something to control Potter with, he was sure, and on this particular night, he got luckier than he'd ever done before. Draco, with his ear pressed against the door, was indeed lucky to be leaning against the old oak, because he almost fell over when he heard something strange:

"Severus, you're acting too much like yourself to make me comfortable!"

"What? What on Earth are you on about now? Just because I don't rate your chances in History of Magic…"

"You were bloody rude, you git. You were acting like yourself, like Snape!"

And that was it! Draco drooled with excitement, then pulled himself together, gripped the iron door ring and burst in upon the surprised couple, who spun around to look at him with identical expressions of startlement that made Draco smile maliciously. "What's going on, Potter? You called him Snape, and the only Snape in the Wizarding world is Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin, who just happens to have disappeared!"

"He's on study leave, you heard Dumbledore," Harry countered, staring fiercely at Malfoy. "You little creep, following us around like that. Liked what you heard, did you?"

But for once, Draco would not be deflected. "What kind of lame excuse is that? Snape would never leave his classroom to that idiot Dingle, who's obviously just an emergency replacement. So… this is Snape, isn't it? Just how sick are you, Potter, snogging your greasy old Potions teacher?"

Severus was aghast, Harry enraged, but Malfoy just continued in his aristocratic jeering tone: "What did you do to him? It's more than just a de-aging potion, because he'd still hate you then, wouldn't he? You're a Potter, and Snape hates Potters. And how the hell did he get put into Gryffindor anyway? Gods, he must be livid!"

"I didn't do anything to him, Malfoy," Harry yelled. "What the fuck do you think I could do to him, anyway?"

"Well you must have done something to make him act like that. He hates you!"

"Well, he obviously doesn't," Harry rejoined, refastening his trousers as he spoke. "So sod off."

"Wait till my father hears about this!" Draco drawled gleefully, returning to his usual attack strategy by bringing Lucius Malfoy into the argument. "The Dark Lord is looking for Snape, and he's not pleased he's gone missing either. And all the time he's been here, hiding behind Harry Potter's robes like some prissy little girlfriend. No wonder no one's found him! Well, now I'm going to -"

But Draco Malfoy didn't do anything. Harry, however, did. Moving suddenly, he quickly Stunned and Obliviated Malfoy, then turned to Severus, who was just standing there, white as a sheet.

"Malfoy said I'm a teacher, that I'm your teacher? How old am I?" Severus asked, sounding as shocked as he looked.

"You're fifteen, Severus, the tests show that. But you were thirty-six before your accident. The accident really happened; you were caught in a mishap with an experimental potion and de-aged. No one could foresee it, or understand exactly how it happened. Logically, the potion shouldn't have had this effect."

"Then why did the headmaster say what he did?"

"I don't know. He doesn't confide in me; he only tells me what he wants me to know."

Severus grimaced in understanding, and said no more; still obviously shocked to the centre of his being, his normally sallow face looked ghastly and bloodless. Harry quickly took him by the arm, supporting him as he led him back to their dorm.

Chapter 14: All The Way

On arrival, Harry locked them in. It was just too bad if one of the others wanted to come up; they'd have to wait. Severus needed help now, and he needed privacy, and Harry was going to put him first. He thought it was about time someone did. So he sat Severus on his bed, then sat beside him and pulled him into his arms, silently comforting him with his presence. Severus was stiff in Harry's embrace, but when Harry did no more than hold him, showing his solidarity by being with him when he needed it, Severus began to relax. In a gesture of trust which Harry understood as such, Severus finally laid his head on Harry's shoulder.

"We'll have to stop…" Severus said in a voice little more than a whisper.

"Stop what?"

"Being together."

"Why?"

"Malfoy," Severus said, the word a groan.

"No, no we won't! I Obliviated him; he knows nothing. Silly prat; at least now we know he's creeping around, we can avoid him from now on. There's no need to stop this." Harry raised Severus' head from his shoulder and gently kissed him.

Initially tentative, as Severus began to respond Harry's kiss became firmer, his tongue running along the seam of Severus' lips, asking for and gaining entrance. As always, a jolt of excitement accompanied the sensation of entering Severus, his tongue slipping into Severus' mouth. Harry wanted more; for quite a while he'd wanted more so badly that it hurt. He wanted to enter Severus' body in the most complete way. He wanted to lose his virginity to Severus, and he knew he would be taking Severus' virginity too. It would be right and perfect to do that, and Harry hoped Severus felt the same way. He ran his hand down Severus' back, resting on his hip. His other hand turned Severus to face him better, and he ran his fingers through Severus' hair.

Severus did suffer from greasy hair, there was no denying it, but he'd taken to shampooing it every morning in the showers since he'd become intimate with Harry. Severus loved having Harry's fingers playing with his hair, and he wanted that to happen a lot. He was willing to fight his physical shortcomings to continue having such contact with his boyfriend. Severus had been acknowledging Harry as that for a while now, and it felt right when they kissed and touched each other. Severus sensed that Harry wanted more, but he wasn't sure about it. He was nervous; he knew he didn't know much about sex between men, and little more about sex with girls, only what the leaflets and the talk from Madam Pomfrey had told them in third year. Since then, Severus had kept away from talk about sex, because it only opened him to ridicule.

Who would want to have sex with someone like you, Snivellus?

Well, someone would. Harry Potter, who Severus had long since learned was important in the Wizarding world, wanted to have sex with Severus, and while that made him nervous, it gave him a whole new confidence about himself and his body that he'd never imagined having. As Harry's hand rested on his hip and Harry's fingers played with his hair, Severus kissed enthusiastically, and for the first time wondered if he could do it – really do it. Go all the way…

"All right?" Harry asked, pulling back and sliding his hand down the curve of Severus' arse.

"Yeah," Severus said breathily. "Yeah, I'm all right now."

Harry smiled at him. "Lie down, take off your clothes."

Severus' eyes widened and he looked carefully at Harry, trying to judge his mood. "I dunno."

"Please," Harry said, slipping his own jumper over his head and starting on the buttons of his shirt. "Think how good it'll feel lying together without clothes. Let's try while they're all shut out. They won't try to get in for a while."

Severus suddenly made up his mind, nodding and shedding the clothes from his upper body. He lay down and opened his arms to Harry. Harry looked a bit disappointed, but scooted into Severus' embrace, and sighed happily as their bodies came together, their naked chests feeling so sensitive as they pressed together. Harry ran one hand between them, seeking for Severus' nipples and rubbing his fingers over the right one when he found it. Severus gasped and pulled away a little, looking down.

"Gods, that feels good," he said, sounding surprised.

"Does it?"

"Yeah." Severus reached out his long fingers and toyed with Harry's right nipple, smiling when Harry gasped at the sensation too. "Who'd have thought it?"

"I thought it was just girls you did that with," Harry said, smiling.

"Have you done it with a girl?" Severus sounded wary, suspicious.

"No, course not! I'd be too embarrassed. Anyway, they're not the same, are they?"

"They're girls," Severus said, grinning.

"You're my friend, I can do it with you," Harry confessed. "Is it okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

They spent some time touching each other's chests and bellies, becoming familiar with nipples and the first suggestions of hair growing on their upper bodies. Then Harry, taking the lead once again, leaned down and kissed Severus' chest, soon moving his lips to the nipple. And that made Severus moan aloud, and encouraged Harry to work further, licking and flicking the nipple with his tongue, then opening his mouth around it, sucking on it while his other hand played with the other one. Severus' moans grew louder, and Harry stopped to shush him with a gentle kiss.

"It's okay," Severus panted, smirking as their lips parted. "I've already cast a wordless silencing spell when you started touching me. I knew you'd make me moan."

Those words had Harry hard, and he bent to his task with renewed enthusiasm, running his free hand down Severus' body to the waistband of his trousers. He slipped the buttons open, hearing Severus' quick indrawn breath as he eased the trousers down, and the pants with them. Stroking Severus' hip down to his thigh, he moved his hand around and up to cup his balls. "I want you so much, Severus."

"I… I know," Severus said haltingly. "But I don't want -"

"Shush, I won't do anything you don't want," Harry assured him. He knew only too well how wary Severus was, how his past made trusting anyone a problem for him, even Harry. Harry thought he could get past that though, because he knew that underneath it all Severus did trust him, would trust him when it came right down to it.

Harry sank to his knees, inhaling the warm, musky scent of Severus' arousal. He pushed his face into the varied, exciting textures of Severus' groin: the soft skin of his balls; the crinkly tickle of pubic hair, and finally pushed his cheek against the jutting erection, all hard heat under velvety skin. Severus' hands moved into his hair, and Harry moaned his appreciation of Severus' participation. He began to lick the skin next to him; it was the fullness of Severus' balls, and as he licked a swathe mapping the shape of one, he felt the unique texture of the skin moving over fullness within: a gentle ripple of flesh preceding the progress of his tongue. It was very strange, and also moving to be licking Severus at his most vulnerable spot. Severus' moan showed how much he was enjoying it, though.

Following his own desire rather than any considered plan, Harry nuzzled and licked his away around, until his tongue traced a line up Severus' cock, following the trail mapped by a vein on the underside. At the top he paused, flicking out his tongue to trace the shape of the head and gathering the small amount of liquid that had beaded at the slit. It was slightly gel-like, reminding Harry of the lubricant that rested in his pocket, which he carried hopefully for the day when he could take Severus, or rather, when Severus would offer himself in a final act of trust.

"Please, Harry…"

Harry couldn't hold out, he wanted Severus, and at the same time he wanted to give Severus nothing but pleasure, to do everything within his power to make his boyfriend moan with happiness. Severus deserved it. Harry opened wide and took Severus' cock into his mouth. He'd done it before, once, and Severus had come undone, moaning and crying out before he came. Harry wanted to hear that again, but he had other plans today, so he sucked and licked carefully, always taking Severus higher, but determined not to let him reach the peak. All the while, Harry stroked his hands down Severus' flanks, then when Severus arched up he slipped them around the firm swell of his arse. Severus was narrow and slender, but he had muscles, and his arse had lovely full cheeks that Harry longed to fondle. He'd tried, but Severus had always got skittish then, moving away and denying him. Today, as he knelt between Severus' spread legs on his bed, Severus finally let him cup the fullness of his arse, and when Harry squeezed the cheeks, Severus moaned. Harry moaned in response around Severus' cock, and that only made Severus moan louder.

Harry pulled back then, releasing Severus' cock, lifting his mouth from it.

"Don't stop!"

"It's all right, I won't. It's just… I want to try something new; something I think you'll like."

"Not -"

"No, shush; I promise I won't do anything you don't want. You trust me, don't you, Severus? I know you do."

Severus looked down at him, his dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of arousal, nervousness, and something much warmer, deeper. At least Harry thought he could see that. He smiled up at Severus when Severus nodded a reply, and using the pressure of his hands, turned Severus over, until Harry was staring at Severus' perfect, pale arse. He breathed out, moving one hand down to adjust himself as his arousal throbbed insistently, demandingly, but he left it alone, moving his hand back to Severus. Harry ran his fingers along the crease of Severus' arse, saying, "You're so beautiful here, Severus. Just perfect."

Unsurprisingly, he heard an answering snort from Severus. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I'm thin and pasty."

Harry chuckled. "Your arse is perfect. Tight and rounded, and I want it." And Harry squeezed the cheeks before parting them with his fingers. Leaning close, he ran his tongue from the start of the crease to the bottom, ending up with his face pressed against the top of Severus' thighs.

"Merlin! What are you doing?"

Severus' voice was full of shock, but encouragingly he hadn't moved away, just jumped a bit when Harry's tongue had touched him. Harry held onto his nerve and licked again, more firmly over the area he wanted to access. Severus' entrance was musky and strange, the skin crinkled, but not like the delicate skin of his balls. The strength and tightness here was obvious, and Harry felt a twitching response to his ministrations. He licked again, getting used to it, holding the cheeks apart so he could get closer, always closer.

"Harry, gods…" Severus moaned, grabbing handfuls of the bed covers and squirming at each swipe of Harry's tongue.

Harry paused. "I'll stop if you don't like it, Severus. But I really, really want to go on. Can I?"

Severus growled; Harry thought with a mental smile that it might have been because of his wish to rebuke him about his grammar. Severus always pointed out it should be 'may I?', and Harry kept saying 'can I?' just to tease him. "Don't you dare stop!" Severus rasped out instead.

Harry smiled for real this time. "I thought you'd like this. I always want to bring you pleasure, Severus."

"Ah!" was all Severus could reply as Harry began again, first pressing his tongue against Severus' entrance, then tracing tickling circles around the rim, then darting in and out a little bit, mimicking what he'd most like to do to his Severus. His Severus.

Severus was reduced to pleading moans now, and his arse was definitely opening to Harry, the muscular ring more relaxed. Harry could hear his heart beating louder, more insistently in his ears. He wanted so much to be inside here; to thrust inside the hot, gripping heat of Severus' body. His face was tight against Severus' arse, the cheeks held apart now simply by his proximity, so he let his hands fall from them. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out the lube, never ceasing his efforts with his tongue as he fought to unscrew the top and dribble some over his fingers. He moved back slightly, now replacing his tongue with moist fingertips, and swirled patterns around Severus' arse and slipped one inside, almost before Severus had chance to realise the change.

"Oh!"

Harry told himself Severus' gasp was one of surprise, not censure. He moved his finger around inside, the moistness of the lube making it easy, the relaxed state of Severus' channel surely making his boyfriend's experience pleasurable rather than intrusive.

"Harry, I -"

"I know, you're wary. But trust me, Severus. Have I hurt you yet?"

"N-no."

"Do you think I want to hurt you?"

"No, of course not, but -"

"But nothing then. Just trust me. I only want to bring you pleasure, to give us both pleasure. Please, Severus, let me in."

Severus' whole body trembled under Harry's hands; Harry could feel it pass beneath his fingertips like tiny waves. He kissed one of Severus' cheeks, running his other hand down the other while his right forefinger swirled inside Severus' channel, reminding him of its presence and the pleasure it brought. Severus gasped as the finger brushed over a small, rounded area inside.

"Ah! That's… oh, gods," he moaned as Harry repeated the move. "I don't know what you're doing, but keep doing it!"

Harry, whose knowledge of technique had come from reading a book Fred and George had squirreled away in a secret compartment under George's bed, chuckled at the comment, feeling giddy that his grasp of the theory of gay sex was so much better than Severus'. "I'll be glad to," he said, using Severus' distraction to add another finger, opening him wider. With a little effort he pushed the two fingers inside, deepening the intrusion and making sure he stroked over that spot again, relieved to hear Severus was still enjoying himself. Harry kept telling himself to go slowly, to take his time, and that patience would bring its own reward, but his cock was throbbing painfully with neglected arousal, and he squirmed, trying to ease it. The movement merely pressed the fabric of his clothing against it, making him moan.

"Harry, I know you want -" Severus gasped, interrupted by another jolt through his prostate, "- I know you want to fuck me. Look… I think, well, it might be okay."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. It literally, stuttered in his chest as his boyfriend said the words he'd been longing to hear. "Oh, gods, Severus," he moaned. "I want you so much. I need you, need to be with you. Inside you now."

Harry slid his fingers out of Severus' body, and tugging at his trousers and underwear, pulled them down and off with amazing speed. He squeezed more lubricant over his fingers, pressing three against Severus' opening, doubting even as he did so that they could really slip inside, for Severus' arse didn't look much different than it had at the beginning. And yet, as he pushed against it, it opened to let him inside, and with only a small amount of pressure from Harry Severus took the three fingers. He grunted. Harry paused, hoping Severus wouldn't tell him to stop now. "Is that all right?"

"Tight," Severus said, panting. "Feels full."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It's tight… and hot… gods, it's brilliant. If you want to do this to me, Severus, you can," he added, wanting to give as much as he received, always. Because although he wanted this with a burning need, above everything he wanted to give Severus more than anyone ever had, because Severus' life had been shit, and this time around it wouldn't be, not if Harry Potter had anything to do with it.

Harry felt Severus' body ease again, allowing the intrusion, and he slid the fingers deeper, over the prostate and just beyond. Severus' needy moans were music to his ears, and he began to finger-fuck him. And suddenly Harry could wait no longer – it shouldn't be his fingers fucking Severus, it should be his cock. He slid the three fingers out, leaving Severus' channel moist, hot and inviting. Harry quickly squeezed more lube into his palm, gripped his cock and slid his hand from base to tip, leaving it looking sleek and red and angry. Pulling Severus close to him, he pressed the head of his cock against Severus' arse, and seemingly without resistance, he found himself inside.

It was Harry's turn to gasp as his cock was surrounded by the tight channel, grasped and held. "Gods!"

"Yes, please, Harry. Do it."

Harry inched forward in a series of instinctive short, jolting thrusts, letting out little cries of pleasure as he sank deeper inside with each one. "Ah, Severus, gods, so bloody perfect!"

"Yes," Severus moaned back, tilting his hips and surging back to meet Harry as he entered, so welcoming and hot in a way Harry had never expected to find him. Severus had been so unsure, had put him off every time before, but now he had accepted, and he wanted Harry just as much as Harry wanted him. It was overwhelming, and Harry felt a bit light-headed for a moment and clung to Severus' chest and shoulders, steadying himself. The enormity of what they were doing had come home to him.

"Mine," Severus was growling. "You're mine now."

"Yes, was yours already," Harry panted, beginning to move with longer thrusts, feeling out of control with the sheer scale of the experience. "Can't leave you, Severus, won't leave you," he assured, knowing Severus' mistrust and wariness only came from his fear of betrayal, something he'd seen too much of already. Harry wasn't going to let that happen again. Harry was going to be here for him. As long as Severus needed him to be. Harry tried not to think about things changing, but even as he took Severus for the first time, he was filled with the fear of losing him – not to another, but to time.

Those thoughts were interrupted by Severus crying aloud, calling his name as he came beneath him. Harry felt his hard, swollen cock grasped by the internal spasms of Severus' body as the orgasm rocked him, and Harry came suddenly, his own release pulled from him by Severus'. It was so quick and fierce it was almost painful, and he closed his eyes, unable to speak or even moan as his being was filled with a blinding light that wiped away anything but the moment, which was immeasurable.

When it did end, when Severus collapsed beneath him taking Harry down with him, Harry opened his eyes, ran his hands gently down Severus' sides, and pulled out. It felt awful – both the physical sensation of pulling away, as his over-sensitive cock was pulled at by the movement and his mind by the emotional wash of feeling caused by their physical separation. Severus didn't turn to look at him, and Harry realised he couldn't expect it. Because however accepting, however welcoming his lover had been, Severus was still expecting the worst.

"Mine," Harry reiterated gently but firmly. "And I'm not leaving you. Now, or ever. All right?"

And then Severus did look at him; turning his head to one side and flicking a gaze over his shoulder at Harry, his eyes scared, wary. But then he nodded, and his lips twitched in an almost-smile. "Yes, that's all right, Harry."

Harry smiled back and turned Severus over properly, pulling him into his arms. "Rest now, Severus." He planted a kiss onto Severus' cheek. Severus snorted, amused.

"I'm not a bloody girl; I don't need coddling. But a bit of a rest might go down all right," he added thoughtfully.

Harry grinned. "Yeah. And then you can do me, if you like."

Severus smiled, even as his eyelids fluttered shut. "Oh, I will. But don't think you can get away without doing that again…" he mumbled.

They drifted into a nap, both smiling gently as they lay together, completed. Until Neville woke them up by pounding on the dormitory door, and Harry scrambled out of bed to let him in.

Chapter 15: The Best, the Most Awful

They came together again two days later; both had been counting the seconds until they could be alone again, exchanging frustrated, heated looks over the heads of their fellows in Defence, through the trees during Care of Magical Creatures and over desks in Transfiguration. And when they finally got the chance, they stayed behind on a Hogsmeade weekend, Severus claiming the need to study, Harry protesting he'd got a bad stomach. Once the others had left, they'd warded the dormitory and fallen upon each other, hungrily tasting each other as they kissed and touched frantically. Harry had prepared Severus again, and made love to him with less fear, more relaxed and skilful than he'd been the first time. And Severus had welcomed him without the need to be cajoled. It had been everything their first time had been, and much more.

Afterwards, as they lay together atop rumpled bed covers, Severus had confessed his fear of losing this; of losing it all to a reversal of time, to suddenly finding himself thirty-six years old instead of fifteen. His voice had cracked as he confessed it, and Harry felt the minimal shaking of his body, almost conquered by Severus' sheer strength of will, but still detectable, despite it. Severus' fear was a terrible, deep thing, and Harry couldn't stand to feel it. He couldn't let it happen… wouldn't let it happen. He had taken Severus' face between his palms and looked deep into his eyes.

"Look, Severus, whether you stay my age or go back to being older, I really don't care. Just promise me something – that you'll remember this, remember what we have together, won't you?

Severus' dark eyes looked back into Harry's green gaze, their expression intense.

"So I'll always be yours, okay?" Harry prompted, seeing the lingering fear in the fathomless depths.

"Okay?" he prompted again.

And Severus nodded, so Harry kissed him, still needing to convince Severus that all this could stay the same, could really be theirs forever. "Only yours, Severus," he said fiercely. "You've always been there for me, now I'm doing the same for you. And I really don't care about your age."

"You say that," Severus replied quietly, his body still tense with anxiety, even though the tremors had ceased. "But you didn't like me when I was thirty-six, did you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've heard everyone going on about Professor Snape, how glad they are he's gone away, how horrible he was. That was me, Harry."

"This is you, Severus," Harry said, holding him tight, careful not to deny the truth but not wanting to upset Severus further. "You're just different. You've never been one of them, have you? Nor have I for that matter, but it doesn't matter, really. You're not cruel or horrible. You're just mine." Harry rested his head on Severus' shoulder.

Severus stroked his hair, fingers playfully ruffling the tousled mess."Always," Severus breathed into his ear.

Harry smiled against Severus' shoulder. "And you're brilliant, you know. People get envious. Just like some of them hate me because of my fame, but I can't help that, and you can't help being so clever. And yeah, you were pretty awful back then, but you had reason to be. You're okay now; I know you'll be okay now."

Severus just held onto Harry, arms tight, muscles tense. It was obvious he was still scared of losing everything, of losing himself, perhaps. "Look, Severus, I'm terrified too. I'm scared to death you'll just disappear, or age overnight or something. I don't want to see you looking at me like you used to, as if I'm just Famous Harry Potter and a real pain in the arse. I want to be like this, with you. I want it to stay this way, because it's the best thing that's happened to me." Harry held tight onto Severus, trying to pass his strength and conviction into his lover by their proximity. "It's even better than getting my Hogwarts letter," he added, knowing Severus could understand just how much he was saying.

Severus nodded. "Yes, it is. And that's why it's so awful too, because you know it can't get better, but it can get a million times worse. Especially for you; you're hunted, you get scared, I feel that. I hate that I used to be one of those who did that to you."

"But you didn't! You didn't, Severus, never! You were on my side, and even though I didn't like you then, I always knew that."

"Right, so I just acted as if I hated you. That makes it a whole lot better." He snorted.

"Oh, but it does," Harry chuckled, hugging him tightly again. "Look, let's just forget it, eh? It might never happen. And even if it does, we've sworn to stay together. You did mean that, right?"

Severus turned to him. Rolling over, he lay atop Harry and stared down into his eyes.

"Look at me."

Harry responded to the desperate plea in those words. Their eyes locked for an eternal heartbeat, until Severus whispered: "What do you see?"

Fin

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