Snarry Games :: Starcrossed

Title: Anachronism
Author: Starcrossed
Team: Cauldron
Genre(s): Alive and Kicking
Prompt(s): Seeking Knowledge and Doppelgänger
Rating: NC-17
Warning/Kinks: *Abuse/Violence, Non-con, Non-Snarry pairings*
Word Count: ~96k total.
Summary: Upon waking up, Severus finds himself not recovering from Nagini's bite, but healing after a long-term mysterious illness. Not only must he uncover the mystery of the cause of his affliction, but also deal with his lover, who is the very last person he wanted to ever see again: Harry Potter.
A/N: A huge thanks to magic-helmet for doggedly convincing me to enter the Games as an Alternate. To whitestar_alpha for cracking the whip and beating this story into shape. Joanwilder for her patience, help as my (previous) captain, and awesome French skills. To Lisa for keeping Severus and Harry in line. To researchgirl and gingertart50 for Brit-picking. To yivel for picking up on all the tiny things. To all my fellow Snitches for being great (ex) team members. To everyone else who helped me crank this out in a month. And a lifetime of thanks and kisses to my own Harry who went above and beyond the call of duty in support.

Anachronism

3:27 AM

More than anything else in the world, Severus Snape wanted to die. He had made sure that Hogwarts remained in the hands of those who cared well for it, left his few possessions to the school and his closest acquaintances, and had given the necessary memories to the brat to ensure that even that complete dunderhead would be able to figure out what needed to be done. The antidote to Nagini's venom remained in his pocket, unopened, and he slipped into oblivion, staring into the green eyes for which he had sacrificed everything. It was a good death, one of the few things he was proud of in his entire life.

Of course, things never work out as one expects them to. The universe always had a way of playing tricks on him, giving him exactly what he didn't want. He should've known that when he set out to die, he wouldn't actually accomplish the task. Just when he thought he had succeeded in ending the life that he was more than happy to be rid of, when he felt his soul slip towards nothingness, the enigmatic pull reversed and air flowed into his lungs. His eyes flew open to see that exquisite shade of green staring down at him again.

"You're alive!" cried Potter. Then, to Severus's horror and the consternation of the pack of Healers surrounding them, Potter threw his arms around him. Fortunately for Potter, the Healers pried the idiot off before Severus could curse him. There were many good reasons he had chosen to die, and never having to deal with that insufferable child had been at the top of the list. Glaring at the brat, who was held securely in place by two Healers, Severus took note of the crimson silks being worn by the bane of his existence. Odd, why was Potter wearing Auror robes? Surely they had not given the child a position in the department simply for defeating the Dark Lord? Severus's only consolation for being alive and stuck in a room with Potter was that it meant the boy had succeeded after all. The Dark Lord would not allow the brat to play dress-up, nor would he himself be alive now.

Then again, the Dark Lord might have ordered him healed to be well enough for torture. Severus shuddered.

"Sir?" asked a Healer who appeared to be fresh out of Hogwarts. "Sir, can you hear me?" At the Healer's questions the rest of them descended on Severus like a pack of Thestrals at a fresh kill.

Severus opened his mouth and found, to his surprise, that he could speak. "Of course I can hear you," he croaked out, his voice raw and his throat dry. "Now go away and leave me alone."

"He needs his wand," said another and the crowd parted to reveal Potter who held out Severus's wand. His eyes were shiny as if tears were threatening to spill at any moment.

Idiots. They were all idiots who took the word of an easily manipulated and controlled child that he, Severus Snape, was harmless. They would accidentally kill the damned prat he'd just spent the last seventeen years trying to save! Memories were facile to fake and sentimental fools like Potter easy to convince. He was a Death Eater, a known murderer, and they had no reason to suspect he hadn't the intention of becoming the next Dark Lord himself.

No matter, he would not refuse what was offered, especially in case someone more sensible took control of the situation and decided to try to cart him off to Azkaban. He would die before going to Azkaban.

Severus snatched the wand, turning it back on Potter in case the brat should try to hug him again. Lying back against the bed, he attempted to relax. Potter had triumphed. The Dark Lord would have never been so foolish as to allow Severus to regain his wand. Now the only matter was whether he had to face Azkaban or not.

"Sir?" repeated the too-young Healer. Since when did they let children be Healers? "Sir, can you cast a spell?"

They all stood expectantly, watching him grip his wand, as if they were waiting for a magic trick. Fear flickered in Severus’s chest. Had Nagini’s venom affected his ability to use magic? To be brought back from a well-timed, well-earned death was bad enough, but to live as a Squib? He would not do it. With a calm flick of his wand that belied his inward panic, Severus said, "Lumos."

Nothing happened. But then, he'd not actually cast the spell, just said the words.

Previously ecstatic faces dropped as if Dementors had invaded the room. The Healers and Potter crowded in a corner and whispered furiously, their backs to Severus. Severus took advantage of their distraction to cast a cleaning spell on his thumb, and a tingle raced across the tip as the spell scrubbed it clean.

As Potter and the Healers were still in consultation, Severus examined the bed and room in which he lay. He was not at St Mungo's, where impersonal white walls and sheets dominated the very plain and sparsely decorated rooms. Nor in the Hogwarts infirmary with its small, narrow beds separated by thick sheets of cloth and where suits of armour and portraits lined the walls.

He had spent his convalescence—at least the latter part—ensconced in a bed with rich sheets of tan. To his right, a bedside table held books, a bottle of his favourite liquor, and a glass. The heavy wardrobe in the corner—the same style as his own—confirmed his suspicions that he had been placed in someone's bedroom. Whoever it was had his taste in decoration and style, although the sheets were considerably softer than his own, and all of the fixtures looked fresh and new, as if they had been purchased recently.

If Potter had gone snooping through his private rooms at Hogwarts to decorate this place, he would strangle him.

As if knowing Severus's mind was dreaming up ways to kill him, the brat freed himself from the Healers and wound his way over to the side of Severus's bed. Severus trained his wand on Potter's chest and wondered if perhaps, as a Death Eater, he had a duty to kill the arrogant little shit.

Potter smiled, a small tight smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes were red, although his face was thankfully free of tears and snot. He looked older than Severus remembered. Not counting the Shrieking Shack, where Potter had been covered in soot and grime and Severus had let himself die, the last time they had seen each other in close quarters was the night of Dumbledore's death. Potter had been a boy then—a young, reckless student who could barely keep a single lesson in his thick skull. War had changed him: filled out his jaw, broadened his shoulders, painted a dusting of black across his chin, and aged his eyes which now gazed at Severus with far more understanding and depth than had ever appeared in them before. He was still short, and Severus relished the fact that the son of Potter would apparently always be a runt, but in the course of one year, Harry somehow seemed to have aged ten.

Potter's eyes flickered over Severus's face, darting around as if he couldn't decide where to look. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth. "I..."

Severus didn't want to hear it. He had planned his death precisely to avoid these awkward moments. "Potter, I am exhausted." In truth he was—his body ached in places he'd not even known could ache. "Take the Healers and leave me alone so that I may sleep."

Potter's smile widened. "Right. You're probably feeling ill after your brush with death. You nearly died. In fact, you did die. Technically. Healer Kessler said-"

Potter chuckled. "It's good to have you back." And then, he bent down and kissed Severus on the cheek. Severus was too stunned to do anything but lie there, dumbfounded. When he finally recovered, ready to hex the brat, Potter had left his bedside and ushered all the Healers from the room.

2:35 PM

When Severus returned to consciousness, Poppy was attending to him, running her wand over his body.

"Let me guess. Muscle spasms and heart arrhythmia," said Severus, naming the two most common after-effects of the anti-venom needed to free his system of poison.

Poppy turned her head and smiled. "It's good to see you back," she said simply, as if being a Death Eater and murderer of a beloved Headmaster were basic mistakes anyone could make. How could he be so easily forgiven for his crimes? He would’ve demanded imprisonment for traitors of his kind.

"No," Poppy was saying, "it appears that your illness has vanished completely. I can't find a trace of it and all of your systems appear to be functioning fine, just more weakly. You should be tired for the next few days, but there’s nothing that restorative potions and rest won’t fix with time."

An illness. That was one way to describe the consequences of having been bitten by a giant, poisonous snake. "You used the potion I had in my possession?"

"We used everything you asked us to, Severus." She shook her head. "It defies explanation." She stepped over towards the bedside table and waved her hand. A standard repertoire of potions covered every inch that had previously been free. "Your muscles will need plenty of work after your having been bed-ridden for so long, but you mustn't stress yourself either. I know you like to try to speed the recovery-"

Severus interrupted the speech, impatient, as usual, to ignore whatever injury or illness kept him confined to this room and the hovering Healers, who seemed convinced they knew his body better than he. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Nearly a fortnight." That explained the relaxed guard. Somewhat. A fortnight was an awfully short amount of time for absolution. Then again, few held grudges as well as he did.

Asking people for explanations of what had happened in the war, who had died, who was imprisoned, would only get partial answers. He needed printed word, which tended to be slightly more reliable, as its inaccuracies and slants were more predictable. "Bring me a copy of each issue since I’ve been unconscious. Any other papers as well."

"I will," she said. With a bustle of skirts, she turned around the room and flicked her wand at the walls. Panels of light flooded the room as each flick revealed a large window in what he had assumed to be solid stone. Through the windows, he could see a cloudy sky and the tops of trees. "Would you like to face towards or away from the sun?" she asked.

Poppy waved her wand, casting artfully and the windows began to slide across the wall. With a start, Severus realised the windows weren't sliding—the entire room was turning. He had heard of these sorts of buildings but had yet to visit one. Someone of considerable wealth owned the building in which he now rested. The Malfoys came to mind, but this structure couldn't belong to Lucius; it lacked the blatant displays of wealth.

"I've asked your visitors to wait in the courtyard below until you’re ready to receive them," said Poppy with a wave of her hand towards one of the windows. "I'm afraid I'll not be able to hold them at bay for too much longer, Severus; it’s not every day a man returns from the dead for a second time."

The prospect of several well-wishers waiting for him was a thought so sickening, he didn't think to ask what she meant by 'a second time'.

"Call me if you need anything." In a flurry of skirts, she left through one of the two doors.

To his credit, Severus waited several minutes before he disobeyed Poppy's orders. Transfiguring one of his books into a cane, an act that left him breathless and trembling as if he had exerted himself physically, he hobbled over towards the door he assumed led to a bathroom, or at least a toilet. His assumption was correct; he found himself in a room disconcertingly familiar. Like the bedroom, this one did not replicate exactly the style he had used at both Hogwarts and Spinner's End, but the decorations were nearly identical with those he would have chosen to outfit a room if he’d had the money. Even the toiletries were nearly the same as those he had used in his rooms before the final battle.

Perhaps the familiarity was offered as a form of comfort, a way to help him feel at ease, but it had the exact opposite effect. He felt dissected, like a potion ingredient taken apart and examined. He'd known they would invade his personal spaces after his death—he had removed the wards in expectation of that fact. But he had planned to be dead when that desecration occurred, when they trampled through his rooms and rifled through his meagre belongings, finally seeing him for what he was rather than his carefully crafted persona.

He did not want his familiar, threadbare grey nightshirt to be replaced with this elegant, sleek black one. It was too much like pity and, of all the emotions, that was the one he could least stand to feel directed towards him.

In far too long a time for what should have been a simple task, he finished his ablutions, ignoring the aches of his body. He paused only to catch his breath and give himself a critical glance in the mirror which had been set (as he preferred) apart from the sink. He had never been attractive and thus tended to avoid the insufferable things, particularly the ones that spoke. This one remained silent—a simple Muggle mirror—but rather than a relief, it was yet another irritation, another reminder that someone had chosen to take his life apart and tried to make it better.

It was as if they thought by taking him away from the dirt and poverty and placing him in this rich, new home, they could somehow change what he was, that his Death Eater past could be exchanged for a new life with silk sheets and marble floors. There were some wounds that never healed and some spots of darkness that would forever tarnish his soul. No amount of varnishing, no fancy surroundings, no second chances could ever erase or make up for what he had done.

He pushed down the collar of his nightshirt, revealing faint scars on his neck. With his fingertips, Severus traced the etchings of silver that revealed where the fangs had ripped skin. They were healed better than he could have ever hoped; the scars lay flat and smooth. If he had not heard the amazement over his healing in their voices, he would have been convinced that the scratches on his neck were an illusion covering up extensive damage buried beneath them. He had no explanation for how the wounds could've healed so well in a mere fortnight.

The trip back to his bed sent splinters of pain up and down his legs, sharp enough to raise bile in his throat. He relented and downed an analgesic before laboriously journeying over to the window to spy on those who wished to see him. Taking a seat in a chair, Severus gathered his strength before casting a spell of concealment. It appeared his magic had been damaged more than he'd originally thought; even that simple spell sapped what little strength he had left.

Once he could move again, he pulled himself up to lean against a chair and peered out the window. The building stood in the centre of an elaborate garden transected by winding paths of brick that meandered past a vast variety of foliage, leading towards a central courtyard that wrapped around the base of the tower. A group of people sat chattering in the courtyard, sipping tea and ignoring the two small brats who were hopping across lily pads in one of the ponds, dangerously close to a creeping mass of tangleroot. With a few empty dishes scattered across the table and the cups mostly ignored, the people appeared to have been sitting for some time. Even more distressingly, most of the heads were red. Weasleys. This had to be Hell.

A figure with familiar messy black hair strode into view of the courtyard, followed closely by yet another ginger, both dressed in Auror robes. Their presence stimulated the gathered party who rose to greet them. With a flash of long red hair, a witch ran forward and threw her arms around the dark-haired man. He picked her up and spun her around, the joy on both of their faces obvious to Severus even from his distance of three stories above.

Severus turned away from the window. He knew how the war must have ended, but now the full meaning of the Dark Lord's defeat settled on him as if a dragon had landed on his shoulders. Why couldn't they have just let him die? He was an anachronism, a reminder of the darkness that had been, rather than part of this new era beginning. Soon Potter would marry the ginger witch (if he'd not already done so) and produce offspring, thus ensuring Lily the only form of eternal life possible. With Severus’s purpose in life accomplished, he had no place in this brand new world.

He had just returned to his bed for rest when the door burst open and Potter tumbled into the room, followed by an entourage of Weasleys.

"Just what I've always wanted," sneered Severus, filling his voice with as much venom as possible. "Potter and a plethora of Weasleys. I must be in heaven."

Potter laughed. "I know, I know. You aren't supposed to have so many visitors, but everyone wanted to see how you were doing."

Ginevra, who was holding the boy, said, "Yes, your Uncle Severus is feeling much better than before."

Uncle Severus? Severus fell into a coughing fit. Potter hurried to the side of the bed, plucked a Summoned glass from the air and filled it with water from his wand. After checking to confirm the liquid was untainted, Severus drank it down.

In addition to Ginevra, the twins (Severus's least favourite Weasleys) stood smiling at him. Even worse, whichever one had lost the ear now wore a realistic looking prosthetic, so Severus couldn't even tell them apart that way anymore. Where they had found the time to create the fake ear in a war was beyond him. Granger slipped into the room after them, a baby in her arms, while Ronald followed, grasping the hand of a small girl. The children were too old to belong to Ronald and Granger; had their parents been killed?

Tartan skirts revealed his next visitor before he saw her face. Considering what had happened between them the last time he saw Minerva, he tensed, prepared for the emotional onslaught. Gryffindors never seemed to know when to let things go and surely Minerva, of all people, would have a few harsh words for him. However, she just smiled uncharacteristically wide and said, "I'm glad to see you still with us."

Shortly after her, Poppy bustled past Minerva into the room, glaring at everyone who crowded the doorway as if they were personally responsible for Severus's condition. "Now that you've seen him, let him sleep." She shooed them from the room, all but Potter who remained by his side. Showing no care that the brat still remained in the room to bother Severus, she shut the door behind them.

Potter probably thought that saving the world meant that he was beyond the rules and limitations of other wizards. The rest of the world might do nothing to disabuse him of that notion, but Severus had no intention of relinquishing what little authority and control he had—especially over Potter. He arched his eyebrow, looked down his nose (which was rather difficult to do when looking up, but there were a few distinct advantages to hooked noses), and asked, "Don't you have a Weasley to impregnate?"

Potter's mouth fell open and his brow furrowed. He looked almost as stupid as he was. "Ginny?" he asked when the Niffler in his head that he used for a brain finally woke up.

"Yes, Ginny," Severus sneered. "I doubt a pinhead such as yourself has managed to unlock the secrets of male pregnancy."

How could such a bright and clever girl like Lily have such a brain-dead child? "That is what is typically done with that otherwise useless thing between your legs."

Potter's eyes widened and he shut his mouth with a snap. After staring at Severus for a moment, he asked, "Do you want me to do it now?"

"Yes. Were you waiting for my permission? There, you have it." He waved his hand to shoo Potter away. "Now go propagate and leave me alone."

Potter did not budge. "I think we should talk about this first. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father."

Of course he wasn’t. He was a stupid child who couldn’t take care of himself, much less anyone else. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back the headache storming through his head. He tried so hard not to hurt the brat, but really, the child seemed to want to be punished. "I think you should leave before I hex you."

"Hex me?" Potter’s eyes widened. "But you-" A grin darted across Potter's face and he smacked Severus on the arm. Hard. "You have your magic!"

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This was why he hated taking analgesics; they made him as stupid as Potter. Severus rubbed his bruised arm, glaring at the brat.

"I should've known," Potter prattled happily. "Of course you wouldn’t want to reveal it in front of everybody. I was so worried for you though. I mean, I know you would adjust fine without your magic, you’ve always been adaptable, but-"

It was no use. One could never be subtle with a Gryffindor like Potter. To get rid of him, he would have to be blunt and clear. "Now that these things are behind us, I want nothing more to do with you."

Severus ignored him and forced out the words he had tried to avoid ever having to say. "I loved your mother, Potter. My affections have always remained with her and everything I did was out of that devotion. I did not care for you. I never have and never will."

Severus glared at him, showing the hate in his soul on his face. "Do you think I did this for you?"

Potter tilted his head and pursed his lips. "What does Voldemort have to do with this?"

It was too much and the thin band holding back Severus's anger broke. "OUT! OUT!" He snatched up a potion bottle and hurled it at Potter's head. Potter sidestepped it, his eyes nearly as wide as the rim of his glasses.

"Stop!" he cried. "You'll hurt yourself! I'm going! I'll come back later." With a worried, confused look back at Severus, he fled the room.

Once Severus's heart had stopped racing and thoughts of homicide were safely tucked away to the edges of his mind, he once again explored the room with his transfigured cane aiding his shaky steps. The wardrobe contained his clothes, all in his size and his favourite styles. He slipped into the robes, each layer, each button a reminder of a life he had tried to leave behind. It was oddly comforting. He would never be as powerful, as mysterious, or as intimidating as he had been before, but he was not completely bereft of the old forces that had maintained and shaped him. He could still force Potter from the room and that was enough, for now.

8:17 PM

Other than the Healers who brought him potions and food and nagged him until he chased them away, Severus had no other visitors for the rest of the day. He was quite pleased with that. Though he was never one to be idle, traveling to the bathroom or the chairs scattered beside the windows exhausted him. Even if he’d had the strength to leave, he didn't know where he would go. He had been all too happy to leave Spinner's End and never wanted to return there again, not even to collect his favourite books. Someone had given him a copy of The Oxford Book of English Verse, probably after finding it in Spinner's End, and he spent hours reading when he wasn't napping to regain his strength.

Peace, of course, could never last and after sunset, Potter returned. Severus had expected he would. Gryffindors often felt compelled to show off their bravery as if it were a trait of which one should be proud. A single spate of harsh words would not be enough to deter Potter. Severus would have to hammer his dislike into the brat's thick skull so that even he had no illusions about the nature of their relationship.

Potter stood in the doorway, clutching a rectangular object to his chest. He smiled as if he had forgiven Severus for the words from earlier. Severus hoped he'd not.

The smile faltered, but then widened even further. "The Healers told me that the medication sometimes makes you say and do things you don't really mean."

"I meant every word. I'm not taking their medication." In truth, he wasn't. He would palm it to encourage them and make them leave, but he only drank a few vials from the collection Poppy had given him. He knew he no longer needed to protect his mind as he had before, but there were certain habits he could not shake and doubted he ever would. His dislike of drugs that altered mental perceptions beyond his control bothered him too much for him to imbibe any more of them than he already had.

"I brought you something," said Potter. He walked over to the bed and held the object out towards Severus. It was a large, heavy book, wrapped in a thick black cloth. "It was leaking," he said. "It's not my fault!" he added when Severus glared at him. "It was leaking when I picked it up!"

Severus stared at the book. The smell of seawater wafted from the tome and he had a very good idea which book rested beneath the cloth; it was one he had desired for some time. But no, he would not be bought. Not by Potter. He had his pride and there were certain things he would not do—not even for the book of his dreams. He crossed his arms. "Potter," he began in a deep, displeased tone.

Potter dropped the book on the bed and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I get it. You want to be left alone. I'm leaving." He turned and headed towards the door. There he paused, his hand on the handle, his vivid eyes bright and said, "Even if your feelings have changed, mine haven't."

Severus growled and sent a hex flying after Potter, but it hit the doorframe instead of Potter's back. The illness had slowed his reflexes.

He had expected Potter to be unreasonably sentimental, but this was intolerable. He had worked so hard to cultivate years of hatred from the boy, only to have his efforts completely destroyed in one morning. Now they apparently regarded him as some sort of hero, a family member even. It was intolerable!

Forget his abhorrence of the over-use of painkillers, he would down as many as necessary to heal as quickly as possible so that he could escape and fade away into obscurity in some remote corner of the world.

Thursday, 13 May, 8:03 AM

The analgesics only made him sleepy, and he woke to bright sunlight and Potter sleeping half on the bed, half in a chair, his head and shoulders draped across the blankets, his fingers laced through Severus's. Too shocked and startled to do anything but stare, Severus blinked several times then shut his eyes, wondering when he would wake from this nightmare.

A squeeze of fingers and Potter's slipped away. Severus opened his eyes to see Potter stretch and yawn like a cat, his mouth opening obscenely wide. His hair stuck out from his head as if he had been struck with a wayward electrical spell, and red marks dotted his face where the metal from his glasses had pressed against his skin. Potter noticed his audience and smiled.

Potter swallowed and the corners of his mouth melted. "I want things to go back to the way they used to be. You know?"

Eyes fixed on the duvet, Potter's fingers slid up to comb through his hair, making the unkempt mop even more unruly. "I mean, I don't expect sex or anything-"

Potter's eyes darted frantically towards Severus's. "Not until you're better, of course. Unless you want to."

"Did the Dark Lord's curse addle your few remaining brain cells?" snarled Severus.

Potter had the temerity to look affronted. "What's wrong with wanting a bit of sex?"

Finally, a reaction Severus could appreciate. Severus raised his wand, pointing it at Potter's face. "Get out of here before I curse you, you nancy boy."

Potter's lips thinned in his white face, his nostrils flaring. In a low, deep voice he said, "How could you? After everything- everything I've done for you. After all-"

Ah, here it was. He was expected to be grateful because Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, had saved his life. He was supposed to bend on one knee and worship The Chosen One. He would not, could not become one of Potter's fawning little acolytes. Dredging up the most vulgar, offensive terms of which he could think, he said, "I wanted to die, you stupid cunt." Potter's eyes widened and Severus ploughed on. "There are few things I can stand less than faggots." A quick visit to Dumbledore's portrait would reveal his dishonesty, but hopefully Severus would be free of this place before the brat thought to question that lie. "And even if my preferences did lie along those disgusting lines—I've seen you in the nude, Potter, and you have absolutely nothing I could ever desire." Not technically in the nude, Potter had only stripped to his y-fronts before the plunge into the icy lake, but close enough.

Potter's glassy eyes stared at Severus as if he couldn't figure out whether he wanted to cry or kill him. His mouth tightened and he raised his wand.

A killing curse would've been most welcome, but Potter only shot a Stinging Hex before he fled the room.

Severus leant back against the pillows, ignoring the pain in his wrist. Hopefully, he would never see the brat again.

12:34 PM

When Poppy arrived with lunch and a fresh supply of potions, she looked like she would burst from self-importance. As she bustled about, she said, "Harry is very upset, Severus."

The hero boy was whinging after having a few harsh words tossed his way. How pathetic. Severus smirked and let out a snort. The knowledge that he was able to upset the brat pleased him, almost enough to make up for the annoyance of Poppy's meddling. "Let him be."

Poppy stuck her hands on her hips and frowned down at him, now in full-blown mothering mode. Severus had learnt it was best not to argue with her when she became like this. He sipped his tea and waited for the lecture. The quicker he heard it, the quicker he could ignore it.

Using the same voice with which she lectured first-years, Poppy said, "This has been very hard on him. I know you are in tremendous pain, but it wouldn't hurt you to put aside your ills for a moment and focus on his."

He might as well cut to the chase and end this. "The boy wanted to have intercourse with me."

Poppy made a noise of disapproval deep in her throat but then said, "You should've. At least then you might be easier to deal with."

Severus nearly spit out his tea. In what sort of alternate universe had he woken, where Potter wanted to have sex with him and Poppy did not mind? When he had finished swallowing, he said, "You know I would never touch a child young enough to be my student!"

Poppy turned away from the sheets she had been fluffing to frown at Severus. "Harry's not been your student for a while and that's not stopped you before."

"A year is not 'awhile' and I've never touched a student." He glared at her, aghast that she could even suggest such a reprehensible thing. What was wrong with these people? Was he the only sane person left?

"Oh my," said Poppy, her eyes wide, her hand drifting to her mouth. "Harry left Hogwarts seven years ago. You don't remember?"

Observations began to link together. The Weasley children, Harry's wide jaw, the easy forgiveness of his past atrocities, the well-healed scars from Nagini’s fangs—scars that he had believed he had received only a few weeks before—the slight differences to his clothing and other personal items.

Poppy shook her head slowly, staring at Severus as if seeing him for the first time. "It's 2004."

3:40 PM

Several Healers were called, but no one could find any trace of Severus's lost memories. According to Poppy, it was as if they'd never existed. Of course, they wanted to do further tests and prod and view places in his mind that he refused to relinquish. The young Healer in charge had tried to force the issue, but Poppy was not a woman easily cowed. After a short battle of words, Poppy cleared Severus's room of the intruders.

Poppy tsked as she replenished Severus's potions. "Some of those children think that a few classes can replace years of experience. I know Harry means well, but he needs to learn price does not always equal quality."

How could years of memories vanish into thin air? Obliviation usually left traces, magical signatures that could be read. Besides, he'd learnt to defend himself against memory modification spells years ago. The Dark Lord had insisted that all those in his closest circle learn every intricacy of memory spells in order to defend against them and use them on victims. Only an extremely powerful and clever wizard could have purposefully removed the memories, one who would've had to catch Severus with lowered defences.

As soon as he finished taking the latest round of potions, he asked, "What was the nature of my illness?"

"Oh dear," she said as she brushed a stray strand of hair from her pink cheeks and dropped down into a chair. "I've been healing for over fifty years and I've never seen anything like this." After she had composed herself and taken a deep breath, she explained. "After Voldemort's defeat, you and Harry worked together to restore order. You maintained your position at Hogwarts until you resigned in order to focus on your hobby—the development of new spells and potions. When you left Hogwarts, you moved here." She waved her hand absently to indicate the building. "You’ll have to ask Harry for the details of your relationship, but you two have been romantically involved for some time."

Severus could not help the snort that escaped his lips. How could he have a relationship with Potter? He could not stand the brat.

"We were all very surprised at the development as well." She opened her mouth to continue and then shut it. After a pause, she began to speak again in a more subdued tone. "You've never been the most forthcoming individual and I don’t know the exact cause of your malady, but I do know it resulted from a spell that backfired during an experiment. Your magic turned against you. You and Harry searched the world for a cure, but you couldn’t find one and, in the end, you were forced to refrain from using it."

A shiver flowed through Severus. There could be no greater punishment than to be alive and without magic. It would be like living with a constant shortness of breath, forever drowning. He could survive and function well enough, he had been raised by a Muggle father, but he knew how Muggles lived. Like Lucifer cast from heaven, the separation from his magic would be hell enough.

Poppy grimaced in sympathy. "Unfortunately," she continued, "that only delayed the onset of the symptoms. You've been bedridden since December." No wonder his muscles felt tired and worn out. "Three weeks ago, you slipped into unconsciousness and stopped responding. We believed you to be dying." She brought her hand up to her mouth and blinked rapidly as if holding back an outburst of emotion, but then her hand slid up to adjust her hat. "Then, a few days ago, just as mysteriously as the illness had progressed, it appeared to abruptly end."

She shook her head. "No. For the last two months, we haven’t detected any magic emanating from you, as if you had become a Squib. Now, your magic has returned and you appear to suffer no ill-effects from casting."

More out of reassurance than necessity, Severus lifted his wand and Summoned a potion. He thumbed off the cork and swallowed the cold, thick analgesic. He had never heard of a wizard slowly dying from magical poisoning. Normally, if a spell or potion creation went drastically wrong, death was instantaneous or occurred shortly thereafter. What had he done to cause such a dramatic effect? His precision and care ensured he never made mistakes. Had someone sabotaged his work? Cursed him? He had been experimenting all his life.

Drawing himself back to the conversation, Severus asked, "What specific potions and instructions did I give for treatment?"

Poppy retrieved a thin slip of parchment from her robes and handed it to Severus.

He glanced down the list written in his own familiar scrawl. In addition to the standard collection of potions given to a dying, bedridden patient, there were five at the bottom labeled T. Potion with a number after each one. Instructions only resided with the last one, aptly titled 'T. Potion 5'. Upon wakening, take a cupful a day until the bottle is empty.

The only person Severus trusted was himself, but Poppy was on that short list of those he mistrusted the least. Besides, why would he care if it were poison? "Where is this T. Potion 5?"

"Oh, that's right, you wouldn't have known to take it." She glanced towards the empty wall on the other side of the bed that held the table laden with potions. "You'll have to Reveal the table."

Severus waved his wand at the seemingly empty patch of floor. "Revelo." Another table appeared, covered in books with a small dark blue bottle near the edge against the bed. Severus moved before Poppy could fetch it for him. It was one of the typical bottles he used for potions, although with the oversized lid, it reminded him of the cough medicine bottle his father used. Unscrewing the lid, he placed the bottle beneath his nose and took a whiff. Unidentified herbs, a flowering plant perhaps, mixed with a metallic, bloody tang. Pouring out the dark red potion into the lid, he tipped it into his mouth and let it roll around on his tongue. Yes, definitely blood, maybe human. The bitterness of the plant overrode any other tastes and he followed the potion down with a creamy and sweet muscle-builder.

Poppy stood and brushed out her skirts. "Your owl is named Strix. She'll come to you if you open a window and call her. I’ll send Harry to you once he returns from work." She then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

While losing his memories disturbed him, the prospect of being romantically involved with Harry Potter horrified him. If he hadn’t known Poppy for such a long time, he would’ve thought she was playing a trick on him. While he wasn't averse to the idea of being sexual with a man, it had never appealed to him either. Dumbledore had been open about his preferences in private and often said the mind mattered more than the body, but Severus found no attraction in either aspect of Potter.

Potter was short, hairy, and had the grace of a stampeding clutch of dragons. He had Lily’s beautiful eyes, but James’s ridiculous hair and oversized hands. While his face was symmetrical and his skin blemish-free, he’d never be elegant like Lucius or handsome like Kingsley. Without Lily’s eyes, he’d be mediocre at best.

Of course, Severus despised those who picked romantic partners solely based upon looks. He knew he had nothing to offer in that department himself—even less than Potter. His attraction to Lily had been physical, but he'd loved her for more than her brilliant eyes or soft hair. He'd loved her quick wit, her cheerful nature, and her inquisitive mind.

Potter…. What could Potter possibly offer? A pitiful student, he had never shown any of Lily’s intelligence and creativity. Indeed, most of the time, the boy seemed destined to destroy himself based on his rash and reckless need to try to fix every problem and save the entire world. Severus had no use for martyrs; he despised them. Potter personified all the traits he hated most in Gryffindors. A kind smile, loyalty and devotion could not make up for all the stupidity in the world.

Most distressingly, Potter was Lily’s son! If he really did have a relationship with the brat, what had he been thinking? It was sick to love the child of a previous love. He wanted Lily; he did not want to become romantically, sexually involved with her child. Potter was young enough to be his son! He hated children.

The only possible explanation he could think of was that he had involved himself with Potter in order to have access to the brat’s apparently vast amount of wealth. Before his attempt at death, he had left all of his possessions and accounts to Hogwarts, not that he had much money anyway. However, he doubted that he'd ever marry for money; to accept money meant allowing oneself to be pitied. Even when he'd been forced to use his mother's school books and mended robes because his father had spent all her money, he had refused to acknowledge his poverty, much less accept aid for it.

The only comfort he had was the knowledge that he had designed the room. The table couldn’t be the only thing he had hidden under the Reveal spell preventing anyone but himself from accessing his furniture. He propped himself up on his pillows and cast around the room, aiming every foot or so in order to avoid missing any items. Potter might know where each hidden object lay, but perhaps not. After all, if he had died, the furniture still would’ve remained hidden.

The room had appeared to be sparsely decorated before—chairs spaced around the edges and the wardrobe. As he cast, a tall bookcase shimmered into appearance along one wall—the shelves crammed full of a hotchpotch of books. A desk, similar in style to the one in his office, pressed up against another wall, the surface covered in parchments, papers, and a scattering of books. A table just large enough to hold a wizard chess set appeared between two chairs. It looked as though someone had been in the midst of a game before the fixture disappeared.

About an arm’s length beyond the foot of the bed rested an object Severus could not identify. Curious, he left his bed to investigate. He walked around all sides, examining it carefully and trying to decipher its purpose. It reminded him of a headless Thestral; standing parallel to the bed on four thin stocks, its body was padded and soft with a raised end. Nearly half the width of the bed, it stood off the ground at waist level. Severus’s first suspicion was that the object had been transfigured into the odd shape, but a quick exploration revealed that this was its natural form.

Unable to puzzle out its purpose, Severus recast the spells of concealment on every item except for his desk. Settling himself in the chair, he picked up a few of the notes he had written and read through them. An odd feeling that was half déjà vu and half espionage stole over him. It was as if he were intruding in on the life of another person. He recognised the handwriting as his own, and there were many familiarities about the desk, but he'd apparently changed a fair amount in six years.

Severus ran his hand slowly over the polished surface of the desk. The last time he'd seen his desk, it had been very neatly organised with only a few scrolls and books placed upon the surface. His ink blotter, always at the opposite end from where he wrote, now rested to his right. The quills were no longer sorted by thickness but by style, which was very disconcerting since he always believed it to be a very inefficient way to organise quills. Severus scowled; perhaps Potter had rearranged them.

He searched the desk for proof or disproof of his relationship with Potter; he still refused to accept it as fact. In the top drawer he found a couple of examples of their correspondence with each other, most on frivolous matters such as the upkeep of the house and the business. There were no love notes or open flirting, but occasionally the letters were written back and forth on the same piece of parchment in shorthand just as he had done with Lily.

He was still at his desk, reading through everything when he heard Potter return from work. Potter wore his Auror uniform, and even with wide shoulders and the dark shadow on his jaw, the boy still looked disconcertingly young.

"Madam Pomfrey told me about your memory loss," said Potter as he hovered in the doorway, his fingers clenching and unclenching the vial and book he held in his hands. "I’m sorry, I should’ve noticed something was wrong when you woke up and called me Potter. You’re normally a pain in the arse when sick, but not that much of one."

Why did Gryffindors have to apologise so damned much? Severus leant back in his chair and met the brat's eyes with ice in his own.

"I know," interrupted Potter, as if afraid of the rest of the words. "You don’t remember." He waved a hand between them. "Just… let’s be friends for now, okay?"

He could have never loved this inarticulate idiot. Being in a room with him for longer than five minutes without wanting to cast curses at him was quite difficult. Severus laced his fingers together, preparing himself for the whinging that would surely follow what he was about to say.

"The reason I engaged in a relationship with you was so that I could obtain access to your funds in order to support my treatments. Now that I am cured, I have no need for your money and therefore, no need for you. As soon-"

Potter strode into the room and dropped down into the chair across from the desk. "If you had your memories, you would remember that you make more money than me. We built this," he waved his hand at the walls, "from your funds. You designed the garden, everything. I wanted you to stay in the house." Potter’s lips drifted upward in a smile. "But you don’t often listen, do you?"

Potter took a deep breath. "Right. You hate me now. I get it. Can we move beyond that?" He set the vial and book on the side of the desk. "I’ve brought memories and photos of us for you to look at. I wasn’t prepared for this because memory loss wasn’t in the list of side effects for the antidote. You could still be sick."

"Of course I’m sick," spat Severus. "Do you think I’d be here if I wasn’t?"

Potter jumped to his feet and slammed his hands down on Severus’s desk. "I’m trying to help you!"

"If I had known you brewed them, I’d never have taken any. It’s amazing I’m still alive."

"Yes, it is," said Potter, his anger draining from him like an untied balloon. "It doesn't make sense. Look, we’re partners."

Severus rolled his eyes. "You are so erudite Potter. How could I have forgot our relationship?"

"Anyway," said Potter, showing more teeth than necessary. "We develop potions, spells, antidotes, all sorts of things. The Ministry recently subcontracted us for some help with finding, fighting, and preventing dark wizards and their followers from harming people. I think-" Severus opened his mouth, but Potter spoke faster, as if he knew what Severus was planning to say. "I think that this wasn’t an accident. I think someone poisoned you."

The last person he expected to share that suspicion with him was Potter. Maybe the child wasn’t a total idiot after all. More importantly, external confirmation that someone may have intended to kill him dampened his suicidal impulses and piqued his curiosity. He’d become a spy as penance, but danger had proved to be quite addictive. There was a thrill in knowing someone wanted him dead, even more so in that he had no idea who. Internally, he smiled; externally, he looked unimpressed.

Potter dropped back down into the chair. He leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I’m not sure that you were poisoned, it may have been a spell or something. I don’t know. I mean, it’s weird, isn’t it? About your memories?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Be useful and explain from the beginning. Be succinct and use complete sentences."

1:13 AM

It took well into the night for Severus to pry a decent amount of information out of Potter. Several rows broke the recounting and eventually Potter stormed out without finishing his story. Severus, whose body ached from sitting up for such a long period of time and casting curses at Potter’s back, retired to his bed.

As Potter had explained it (and Severus only trusted his account to be true up to a point), they were investigating a dark wizard who enjoyed spreading potions that functioned in a similar manner to viruses. The wizard would visit a hospital and spread the potion around amongst the populace. Since only hospitals were targeted and the potion cleverly disguised, it had taken some time for the plot to be discovered. The hospital only uncovered the truth when a healthy witch visiting her Squib cousin became ill and died within three days.

While Potter and his colleagues had used traditional methods to track down the wizard, Severus had analysed the potions. After having discovered that the potions involved specific unusual elements, they had been able to run to earth a wizard who fitted the profile they'd created. They cornered the suspect and a wand fight broke out, leading to the death of the suspect and two Aurors. Four months later, Severus became deathly ill.

"I don't know for sure if the incidents are connected," Potter said, his brow furrowing as if thinking hurt his head. "But he made poisons that you said you would've thought were impossible if you'd not seen them for yourself. You also stole a lot of things from his lab and garden. You weren't supposed to, but you always do that when you get access to the crime scene early enough." Potter's eyes narrowed, the disdain for Severus's thievery as clear as if he had expressed his displeasure verbally.

Dealing with Potter was a chore in itself, but the awkwardness between them left Severus wanting a stiff drink. He poured himself a glass of his favourite liquor and settled back on the bed. On top of the difficulty of wrapping his head around the idea of a romantic relationship with Potter, it disquieted him to have to be told about himself.

Even if he had suspected that he would steal from crime scenes, he could not go to the laboratory, even if he knew where it was, and pick out the pilfered items. He needed those missing memories; he had to know who'd done this to him. Potter could be mind-bogglingly stupid, but he did have good instincts on occasion. Severus had experimented with spells and potions ever since Lily had introduced him to the art long ago. He had always been exceedingly careful and there was no way an experiment of his could go so horribly wrong.

But had the attack been thwarted or covered-up? Were his missing memories the important factor on which he should focus, or the illness itself? Had the memory loss been a side effect of his attempts to restore his magic? Severus picked up the list of potions used for his treatment. What did these T's mean? Treatment? No, too obvious. It was probably the name of a spell.

Thoughts and questions clouded Severus's head, so by the time his weariness overtook him, he had a slew of questions and not a single answer.

Friday, 14 May, 8:51 AM

In the morning, Severus returned to his desk. He called Strix, a fat, fluffy owl with cow-eyes, and wrote a note to Potter, asking for him immediately. He assumed that the letter would find Potter at work and, knowing the boy, he would drop everything he could in order to leave work and return home. He doubted he could get Potter fired. The boy could probably pick his nose at his desk all day and still get paid, but that didn't mean that Severus couldn't make his life more difficult.

As expected, Potter arrived in less than an hour, the Floo dust still clinging to his robes. "Is everything all right?"

Severus crooked a finger at a chair across from his desk and Potter dropped into it without question or hesitation. Apparently, buggering the boy was the only way to earn his obedience. It was such a disgusting thought that, for a moment, he could only glower at the brat. Seemingly used to Severus's glare, Potter pressed his lips together and drummed his fingers on the armrest. As much as Severus despised his doing so, he had to work with Potter. With a forced calm, he said, "I have searched through my desk and I see no notes on this supposed poisoner."

Potter nodded. "That's because you never did any research after he supposedly died-"

Never did any research on the man who'd attempted to kill him? It was impossible.

Potter saw the look on Severus's face, and broke in with, "You never listened to this theory of mine, but you never gave me an alternative explanation!" He spread his hands out in exasperation. "When you woke after I found you lying there, on the floor of your lab, you built this house and this garden, you brewed and made that list of potions, and that was it. And I know that the cure you made worked, I'm not denying that. But it was as if something prevented you from ever bringing up that man. Every time I tried to talk about it, you said it didn't matter, but you never discouraged me from investigating the matter, which, for you, is basically encouragement." Potter's mouth quirked in a faint smirk, then he turned serious again. "I think he put some spell on you that prevented you from doing anything against him. All you could do was defend, so that's all you did. You built the garden to brew and you brewed until you couldn't brew anymore."

For a moment, Potter's eyes glistened and Severus, fearing he would start to cry, gripped his wand tightly. But Potter composed himself and removed a pile of thick scrolls from his robes. He stood and laid them on the desk. Scroll after scroll after scroll piled on the corner as Potter described the contents: a list of suspects, five scrolls on the prime suspect alone; all the potion ingredients that Potter had been unable to identify himself, even everything Severus had ordered since the illness struck—plants, gems, and other potion ingredients, even the food orders.

"You like to get potions from unorthodox sources," he said with a frown after he had set down that thick scroll. "You also brought some to the lab when we first moved in together and you pick up vials whenever you travel."

Severus stared at the mound that had to be held together with magic to stop it from rolling off the desk. Six years was a long time, but it would take him weeks to read through the pile.

Potter reached into another pocket of his robes and removed even more scrolls. Severus sat, mute, as Potter began a new pile. Among the scrolls placed in the new pile was a list of everyone who'd died in the war, all the major headlines since that fateful day six years before, and numerous scrolls on the Death Eaters, including all suspected ones as well as their current locations. Potter finished the pile with, "The floor plans to our house."

"Yes," said Potter, unperturbed. "We started living together when we founded our company. You said that it was easier to guard the laboratory if you lived at the same location, and I had the land. The company information, your Gringotts information, and other files are in your safe." Potter pointed at a seemingly blank spot on the wall. "The password, in case you don't remember, is 'On ne connaît que les choses que l'on apprivoise'." [1]

"You expect me to believe that I gave you the password to my safe?" Much less that he chose a French one. He didn't speak French although he knew Greek, Latin, Hebrew, could read Sanskrit, and muddle his way through most Brythonic and Goidelic languages.

"You told me shortly before you..." Potter swallowed and tapped the table with his fingers. "...fell unconscious. That's where your will is. I've not looked at it. I couldn't bear to while you were still alive. Severus..." It felt wrong to hear that name on Potter's lips. "I know you don't remember us, but if you could please look at those memories, it'll help you understand why things ended up the way they did. I...." He shook his head, then stood. "I have to go. I'm not finished getting everything ready for you. Oh!" He pulled out one more scroll. "A timeline. Very incomplete, but it contains all the major events." With a whirl that reminded Severus of himself, Potter turned and strode to the door.

Severus sat in silence. This young man was not the Potter he remembered. Still not a person he could see himself sexually involved with, but if Potter had prepared these scrolls without help, he was not the dunderhead he had been in school. There was not a single question Severus could think to ask that wouldn't be at least partially answered in one of the scrolls. Well, beyond the question of how he had ever ended up in a relationship with Harry Potter in the first place. That would have to remain the biggest mystery.

With effort and care, he pulled himself to his feet and, using his transfigured cane, hobbled his way over to the safe. Although he couldn't speak French, his memory and knowledge of Latin enabled him to repeat the words well enough to pop the safe door open. The wards put in place inside the safe were still intact, and the work was unmistakably his own, yet slightly different. It was unlikely that his ward work would remain unchanged in five years, but he did not dismiss the possibility that Potter had learnt to imitate his style. That required a high level of intimacy, though, and he couldn't decide which scenario was worse: that an idiot like Potter could learn his style or that he had become intimate enough with Potter so that the boy could properly imitate his magic use.

Hoping neither was true, he removed the wards, then examined the items by hand rather than by magic in case he might damage them. As Potter had said, on top of everything rested his will. He had left everything to Hogwarts in his previous will. As he stared at this one, he had the distinct impression that this was not his will but that of a doppelgänger. There were two Severus Snapes: one who had a relationship with Potter and one who could not stand the boy. Maybe he had lost his memories on purpose rather than stay involved with that child. Thoughts swirling, he Summoned one of the chairs and sat down to read.

In his will, he had given Potter nearly everything, even all his possessions. Only his personal, private Gringotts account remained separate, and he had given that to Hogwarts. He couldn't believe it. Almost everything to the brat. He wouldn't have been so generous to a single person, even in a will in which Lily would find benefit. Hogwarts needed money far more than Potter did. Severus threw the will to the side. Next, he found two Gringotts keys, Muggle bank account numbers, a safe deposit box, and the contract for the business he ran with Potter. Although he and Potter shared the profits evenly, he held all intellectual rights on the potions the company created, which meant that he could leave and sell the potions at a one hundred percent profit to himself. Why on earth Potter's solicitors had allowed him to sign such a lopsided deal was beyond Severus. If Potter had been the sponsor to fund the company, Severus could have bilked him of thousands of galleons, maybe even millions.

At the bottom, under his Muggle and wizard birth certificates, passports, spare money, identity papers, and certificates, was a photograph placed upside down. Severus picked it up only to throw it to the floor with disgust. It was of Potter. Naked. For a moment he just stared at it, debating sending it up in a burst of flames, but he wouldn't have put it in the safe if it hadn't been important.

Summoning it to him, he took a longer look. Potter lay sprawled out on a bed on his back. He was sleeping, his mouth hanging open a bit, an extraordinarily stupid expression on his face, even for him. His hair flying every which way, his scar was clear to the viewer as well as his penis: thick but flaccid, quiescent between his legs. As Severus watched, Potter let out a breath of air that stirred his fringe, and rolled over onto his stomach, displaying a surprisingly firm, round arse. Severus sent it, along with everything else from the safe, to his desk. In five years, he had somehow become a pervert. Or had Potter slipped that photo in there? He wouldn't put it past the brat.

Shoving the photo to the edge of his desk that held the vial of memories and photo album, Severus started to read through the thick stack of papers and scrolls before him. Catching up on six years' worth of life seemed an impossible task, but he was determined to try and accomplish it within the next few days. First, he needed to know what had happened to his fellow Death Eaters.

19:30 PM

Potter arrived that evening, still wearing his Auror robes. Behind him followed a tray of delicious-smelling food. Severus had been so absorbed in his reading, he'd not remembered to eat, and the smell of French onion soup woke his stomach.

Potter smiled at the rumbling. "You've not eaten all day, have you? I forgot to tell you that Kreacher obeys your commands, but I doubt it would've mattered. You never eat when you're in the middle of something."

The brat had to constantly point out how much he knew about Severus, didn't he? He probably enjoyed the fact that he now knew more than his former professor. Severus would not become a laughing stock or a target for his jabs. Time to attack.

"I do not know what sort of sick idea of a joke prompted you to put nonsense like this-" He jabbed the photo at Potter. "-in my safe, but I'll not stand for-"

"Oh, you know what it is." Severus threw it at him, adding a spell to send it hurtling.

Potter caught it in one hand and stared at it. His face turned white then red. "What is-? Where did-? I can't believe you have this! You can see my scar! When did you take this?" He waved the photo in the air.

How in the bloody hell should he know that? It was blackmail, then? He Summoned it back. Potter grabbed at it, but it slipped from his grasp. "No!"

Severus snatched it and shoved it into his robes. Potter swooped in to search for it, but Severus pointed his wand between Potter's eyes and the brat backed away.

"You had no right!" Potter said, his eyes burning with the same anger Severus had seen for years. "No right!"

The question was, why would he feel the need to have blackmail on Potter? Did Potter have any blackmail on him? Severus sneered. "Yet, you sleep in the nude. Still an exhibitionist, I see."

Potter's skin flushed a dark shade of red. "I didn't then. Not unless... Gods. You fucked me and then you took that picture because you knew I wouldn't wake up." He ran his hand through his hair as he paced. "I cannot believe you. How could you?"

"I thought we were past that, but I guess not." Harry glanced at Severus, then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to fight." He dropped into a chair, snatched a sandwich off the tray, and sent the rest to Severus's desk.

Past what? It didn’t matter. Potter would reveal all in time. The boy was never good at keeping secrets. The question with Potter and secrets was never 'if', but only 'when'. Of course, for all he cared, Potter could remain a mystery.

As if on cue, Potter spoke. "In your mind, I'm seventeen, aren't I?" He didn't wait for a response. "You must feel like you've time-travelled. You go to sleep in 1998, not knowing who's won and you wake up six years later. If only there was some way I could just give you those six years back." Fiddling with his serviette, he asked, "D'you think that if we tried injecting a regenerative potion directly into your brain that-"

"No, absolutely not." The brain naturally forgot data it deemed worthless. Should they try to restore the missing data, everything that had been pruned recently would come back, but not the parts that'd been exorcised through magic.

"No." Would the boy really sit and argue each point with him? He would not stand for it. "Go away. I do not want to talk to you."

Potter crossed his arms. "I'm not seventeen. I've been your partner for six years and your lover for nearly half that. You didn't brew all those potions on your own. I can answer loads of questions for you. For example, Spinner's End. You've not got the deed for that, do you? Do you know why?" Without waiting for an answer, Potter barrelled on with a wave of his hand. "You blew it up."

He 'blew up' Spinner's End? It was nothing more than a hovel, but he had lived in that hovel nearly his entire life. He had spent years upon years building protection wards, hiding secret alcoves, turning it into an impenetrable fortress. To destroy it would be to get rid of the one place on earth where he knew no one could reach him unless he allowed them to.

Potter continued, "You're forbidden from ever setting foot there again. The Muggle-Wizard liaison manager was furious. He came to me, at work, to yell at me because he didn't dare yell at you. Former student of yours." Potter grinned as if he were sharing a private joke.

Severus glared at him. "Why would I-" It wasn't him, it was this doppelgänger 'him', this future self, but there was no other way to ask the question. "-destroy the place I've spent years perfecting?"

Potter's smile wilted and his eyes darted to the pile of scrolls. "I don't know. I don't know why you do half the things you do. I asked you and you said that it 'needed' to be done. Maybe..." He scratched his arm, avoiding Severus's eyes. "Maybe you thought that you didn't need to have your own place anymore since you had a home with me."

Highly unlikely. "Where are the rest of my papers? My Potions journals, the recipes for the potions I created?"

"Those are in our home and your Gringotts safe." Potter stood and strode over to the desk. He grabbed the floor plan scroll and flicked it open. "See this room off the potions lab?" He jabbed his finger towards it. "That's where you keep all the records related to our brewing projects." He tapped his finger on the map and it shifted up a floor. He pointed to the room labeled 'Library'. "You have a desk in here where you do research. Once we... became intimate, I made you leave the cellar. If I let you, you would stay there for days and never see the sunlight. You get plenty in the library."

"Normally," said Potter as he sat down, his chair sliding over to catch him. "But we invented a spell to contain sunlight. There are huge windows here-" He slid his finger along the wall of the library. "-that let in light only in this area here." He traced a square inside the library. "We also placed one on the desk, so as long as you keep the book on the desk, it won't be damaged. There're reading tables and chairs put in front of the shelves outside the touch of light.

"We've invented a lot of spells and potions together." Potter bent forward as if he were about to tell Severus a secret. "You know how spattergroit is treated by bed rest because the disease disguises itself in the immune system and any attempt to treat the disease turns the immune system on itself?"

Severus nodded. It was why the disease was treated in isolation. In a healthy individual, spattergroit was an annoyance, but if a second illness was introduced to the immune system, even something as minor as a cold could prove to be deadly, as the immune system would not react while spattergroit had hold.

"We figured it was best to fight fire with fire. Introduce a disease that attacks the immune system and target it to the spattergroit. We used monkeypox, since it is rare for wizards to have had exposure to it."

"No, it's not related, it's closer to smallpox. The Muggles wouldn't let us use smallpox because they have a ban on it, but there is no such ban on monkeypox and it's not as virulent. We introduce monkeypox, slowly, just enough for the spattergroit and monkeypox to attack each other instead of the immune system."

"Not naturally," said Potter with a nod. "But an infusion of Erythrocebus root in the base-"

"Combined with a Poxviridae Potion, which would be the only means of introducing the virus safely-"

"Would ordinarily result in a poison; however, mixing albite and this South American herb called Tamarin whiskers into the potion-"

"Stabilises the Erythrocebus root and negates the neurotoxins," Severus finished. Potter nodded, grinning. It was bloody brilliant. Why hadn't Severus thought of it before? So simple, too. Tamarin whiskers were used to balance ingredients in simple potions designed to perform non-functional personal enhancements such as permanent hair dye, but there was no reason that they couldn't also be applied to balance healing potions, provided they were combined with a tectosilicate like albite.

"Once we figured to add Tamarin whiskers and albite to the Poxviridae Potion, we made a whole class of healing potions for diseases once thought to be incurable. As you can imagine, with all the albite we need to balance the brew, they taste like shite. Worse than Skele-Gro. Before you took ill, we were working on a way to improve the taste because the patients have trouble keeping it down."

"Except that it breaks down at temperatures high enough to metabolise the Tamarin whiskers."

Severus had never bothered to brew such pointless potions as cosmetic enhancements, but it was highly likely Tamarin whiskers would require intense heat. Potter had just corrected him on a potions matter. That fact, more than any memory, picture, or claim informed him that he did indeed have a relationship with Potter. There was no way Potter had learnt more than he without his help, and he never would have spent time teaching the imbecile unless he held some level of affection for him. There was no amount of gold that would be enough to overcome the pain of dealing with stupidity.

It also meant that this Potter was a formidable opponent. The boy he had left in the past had been easily led and manipulated. This young man before him had been trained by him and possibly knew his weaknesses. He had always been careful to keep himself emotionally detached to avoid these sorts of problems. Why had he not done the same when it came to Potter? It was one thing to train the boy in potions, it was another to give him the ability to defeat him.

He had arrived in a future where he could not trust anyone but himself, and he had new potential enemies he'd not had to consider before. Bringing down a powerful, cunning Harry Potter would be far more difficult than bringing down the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had been mad, and therefore easy to deceive.

Severus had no choice. He had to pretend to trust Potter. He let his lips curl up in what he hoped was a friendly smile. "You've changed."

Potter's face lit up like a candle wick bursting into flame. After seven years, Severus had never seen Potter look so ecstatic in his presence, and his heart skipped a beat. He knew he had the power to enrage the boy, but he'd had no idea he could make him look this...euphoric as well.

Potter lifted his hand, and for a moment Severus thought he would try to touch him, but instead the boy seemed to think better of it and ran his hand through his wild hair instead. "You have too," he said. "It's so bloody strange because it's been so long, I've forgotten what you were like then. It's almost as if you're a different man. I mean, I know it's you, I know that look when you think I'm being stupid, that voice you use when you're deep in thought about potions..." He took a breath and looked at his hands, his smile fading. "But you're not the man who fell asleep thirteen days ago."

Merlin, if he started crying, Severus would have to feign sickness or something. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a weepy Potter.

"I'd love it if you could come to the house. Not right this minute, unless you want to, but soon. I think it would be good for you to sleep in your own bed, sit at your desk, and brew in your lab. Knowing you-"

"You knew another me," Severus said as quietly and calmly as possible. "I will never again be that person you knew. Ever since I woke, I have different memories, different experiences, already I have diverged from him."

"I know." Potter slid a hand across the desk, leaving it open and the fingers spread. "I know that. It's not 'him', it's 'you'. There're some things that never change. You're still a stubborn bastard. You're still arrogant. You're still dedicated and loyal and you're probably frustrated that I'm talking when all you want to do is learn about your surroundings." He drew back his hand and stood. "Eat. Sleep. You'll not be allowed mental acuity potions until you've sufficiently recovered."

'Not be allowed'? He was not a sodding child. "If I want potions, I will take them. I do not require your permission," scowled Severus.

Potter's eyebrows lifted, his lips curling. He stood. "If you can remember enough to break through your wards, you're welcome to brew them in the potions lab. Until then, Madam Pomfrey and I are in charge of your recovery." With that threat, Potter turned and strode away.

There was no need for a verbal retort. As soon as Severus had access to his lab, he’d brew his revenge on the smarmy prick.

Saturday, 15 May, 10:00 AM

Severus Summoned an armchair and dropped into the seat, taking a swig from one of his restorative potions.

Despite food, potions, and a few hours sleep, the journey from his quarters to the potions lab took all morning. The use of magic winded him, just as much as the shaky steps he had taken down the spiralling staircase that led from his room: the only one in the tower. Why he had built himself a place to die on top of a tower was beyond him, although it did have beautiful views of the gardens. It was an unusual edifice—shiny obsidian black with coils of vividly green jadeite winding up to the top.

As he hobbled past the rows of flora, he took mental note of the potion uses for each ingredient. There were no discernible themes, other than they had apparently attempted to collect every single herb necessary for potion-making. It was a garden fit to rival the one at Hogwarts, albeit with more specialties. The planting boxes curved in a variety of shapes and sizes, and although his current path of stone was a straight shot, the paths of stone, wood, dirt, and water that branched off were almost as unique as the flora. A few went a few paces before ending, while others curled around in spirals. He could discern no functional use to the designs, which interrupted the flow of the plants rather than enhanced it.

At first the diversity of the collection astonished him, but after he'd been walking through the garden for an hour and still hadn't made it halfway across, he cursed his doppelgänger and Potter. Of course, the journey would go more quickly if he removed the spells of disguise and camouflage he was using on himself, but he refused to do so. Why on earth had he built the tower in the centre of the garden, rather than the edge? There was no need to have so many plants, particularly the common English weeds. Without his memories, it was an exercise in futility. Perhaps his mind had wandered towards the end. It was a terrifying thought, even worse than the idea of life without magic. In the end, his mind was all he had.

Another hour more and he had made it to the side door of the house. Thick, heavy wards hung in the air, but they granted him access, allowing him to open the massive oak door and step into the refreshingly cool interior.

The house-elf appeared with a pop. He glared at Severus as if the Potions Master had intruded upon his personal space.

Didn't he and Potter own the property jointly? Why did the house-elf act as if he were an intruder? Severus scowled at Kreacher. "Where is Potter?"

Kreacher narrowed his eyes. "Master Harry is not home. Master Harry works very hard. He is in the Ministry at day and the lab at night."

What was Potter doing mucking about in his personal lab? If Potter was in his lab, tainting his experiments, it was more than likely an accident had happened. Maybe that was why Potter was so determined to fix the problem; he knew he was responsible for it, the dimwitted brat.

Kreacher continued, "Master Harry is most considerate. He has asked Kreacher to prepare meals for Master-" he sneered the word. "Snape. Does Master Snape wish to dine in the entryway?"

It was asked as a challenge, but Severus was too exhausted to move. "Yes, bring everything here."

Kreacher shuffled off, mumbling, "Master Harry will never have an heir now that the bat is back. Kreacher tells his poor Master that he is wasting his seed, but Master Harry never listens. Kreacher will have no more family to care for...."

He was not surprised to see that there was still no love lost between Black's house-elf and himself. They'd always detested each other, even though the elf had disliked Black nearly as much as Severus had.

Kreacher returned with a huge tray of food floating behind him. More of Severus's favourites. A hearty beef stew, a fresh loaf of whole grain bread and bread pudding. Even the tea, his own special blend of English Breakfast, was brewed to perfection, although it had an enhancement he had never tried before. Gaultheria procumbens, a mild stimulant and analgesic, that complemented the other herbs splendidly.

After he'd eaten his fill and drunk enough healing and restorative potions so that he no longer felt as if he had sharp-spined hedgehogs doing summersaults up and down his legs, he consulted the floorplan. The bedroom, the library, and the potions lab were the three places that most likely contained the majority of the clues he needed. As if to taunt him, they were placed on nearly opposite ends of the house. The potions lab was in the cellar and under the north wing. The bedroom was on the second storey of the south wing. The library was placed to the right of him on the ground storey, abutting on the garden. Of the three, the bedroom was the one he was least curious about, but it was also the one he wanted to explore without Potter hovering about, so he headed there first.

Why he'd agreed to live in such an ostentatious place was beyond him. Although the furniture was selected for comfort and utility rather than show, was there any use for a banquet hall? Or a dining room with a table large enough to fit at least thirty guests? Spinner's End had been sufficient for him. There'd been no need to replace it with this gaudy hovel.

The bedroom he shared with Potter was the first one on the right in a long line of bedrooms. There was no reason their house needed six bedrooms, especially since Keacher apparently slept in the attic. Perhaps the Weasleys often stayed over. Severus shuddered. That was a disgusting thought.

He pushed open the doors, expecting to see pompous decorations, but the room was simple and open, the furniture the sort he would have picked had he been required to spend large sums of galleons on bedroom fixtures. There were traces of Potter scattered throughout, such as the crimson and silver throw pillows which dotted the massive black bedspread like drops of blood and mercury, but this room was his.

It was almost as if he were coming home after a long time away, so heavy was the trace of his touch in the room. Still, there were differences. Even without Potter's contributions, it wasn't as dark as he preferred. On the contrary, it was very well lit. The windows were not covered in thick, heavy curtains designed to block out any trace of light. Although the cloths were black like those at Spinner's End, these bore silver vines with crimson flowers that bloomed in bursts of red.

Severus hobbled over to the wardrobes, reached for one of the ornate handles on the carved oak doors and pulled it open. His hand resting on the handle, he stood transfixed by what he saw. Instead of a single wardrobe, he had an entire cupboard of his own, adjacent to Potter's. Combined, the two cupboards were the size of his entire bedroom at Spinner's End, and his was half-full. What a waste! There was no need for it, his wardrobe had been more than sufficient before. He had no use for clothing beyond five regular robes, a dress robe, a nightshirt, and a few Muggle clothes for disguises. Now, he had six black dress robes alone, not to mention the ones in green or even the one with black and crimson. He slammed the door shut. Never in his life had he worn those colours.

He surveyed the room, checking for any further clues of his previous life. No secrets would be found here. He never hid personal artefacts in the bedroom; it was much too obvious a hiding place. However, a bedroom was the perfect place to learn about an individual, and he intended to find out as much as possible about his doppelgänger self. Two bedside tables flanked the head of the bed. The first had to belong to Potter, with an empty glass sitting by a spare pair of glasses, and a well-worn copy of Le Petit Prince, a French children’s book.

He opened the drawer and found several potion vials that he recognised as his own, despite the fact that they were bottled in a different fashion than he had in the past. They were labeled, but he sniffed them anyway to confirm that the writing matched the contents. Dreamless Sleep and several minor remedies for basic aches comprised the bunch. Behind the vials were three unlabeled flat jars. He sniffed at the contents, but could not ascertain what they were for until he dipped a finger in one.

He threw the jar back in the drawer in horror and hurried to the loo to wash his hands.

Returning to the bedroom he checked out his bedside table. It held a pile of books including Wuthering Heights, one of his favourite Romantic pieces. The drawer was warded shut, but it didn't take long for him to break though his own wards, even with the differences between his old and his new styles. He yanked open the drawer, only to find that it was full of sex toys. His stomach clenched, and he grimaced as he stared at the disturbing contents. There were anal beads, butt plugs, dildos, strips of silk, vibrators, more lubrication, and several items Severus could not recognise but were probably used for more vulgar sex acts. He nearly sent the whole disgusting mess up in flames. Instead, he slammed the drawer shut with revulsion and warded it tightly. He had become a sick, twisted man.

Even more familiar than the bedroom was the bathroom. His toothbrush was the same style and colour as the one he had last used to brush his teeth before he'd woke in the future. It was even placed where his other had been, although the ornate sinks were nothing like the ones he’d ever used at Hogwarts or at Spinner's End. There were two sinks instead of one. Side by side, one contained Potter's items, the other was Severus's. Separated out, their items showed their distinct personalities. Potter's side was cluttered; potion bottles overflowed his cabinet and littered the sink. There was a method amid the mess, as the vials were organised by type. Why one man needed so many variations on sleep aids was beyond him.

There were sparse toiletries on Severus's side. A few choice potions: Dreamless Sleep, his own personal mouthwash (the exact same recipe that he had brewed six years before), a few minor healing potions, headache removers (he never could have enough of those) and a restorative potion. His favourites for mental stimulation and clarity were nowhere to be found. The little snot had removed them, no doubt.

Potter's wizard razor sat in the middle and Severus pushed it and the potions that threatened to encroach on his territory over to the middle of Potter's side. Even if the items hadn't given away which side belonged to whom, it would be obvious due the lack of mirror on Severus's side.

A second sweep of the rooms for non-obvious artefacts alerted him to a warded area in the back of Potter's cupboard. Severus smirked. Idiot. Potter's magic and wards were unfamiliar to him, but the boy had no mastery of the subject, and it didn't take long for Severus to strip through them. Potter's old school trunk lay beneath the mess of magic. After checking for booby traps, he opened the lid to find Potter's Invisibility Cloak, a Snitch, a broken shard of mirror, a spare bit of parchment, clothing, and a stack of papers. As he lifted the papers, a business card fluttered to the floor. Severus bent down and picked it up.

Jason Andreros, Personal Assistant. The telephone number below stated that the man was a Muggle. Below the number were words Severus did not understand but assumed to be Muggle as well. JasonAndreros@yahoo.com.

He rifled through more of the trunk's contents and found some papers which he proceeded to read. The stack of papers consisted of correspondence from various individuals to Potter: Black, Granger, a few Weasleys, and himself. It was uncanny to see his handwriting on letters he had written but had no memory of ever composing.

Since when did he cook? It must have been something he'd picked up after the war.

The parchment had been folded and refolded several times and Severus could imagine Potter reading and re-reading the letter. Like the others, it was uncharacteristically open and emotional for him, but not far enough removed from who he was for him to reject it outright. He had changed a lot after the war. His future self could express things he had never dared to say to Lily. He searched through the rest of the letters. There were no 'I love you's' or 'I miss you's’. Although the few earlier letters contained insults directed at Potter, as time passed, the insults shifted to other people. One letter, dated the 2nd of July 2003, consisted of nothing but Severus ranting about a new customer. Why Potter had kept the letter was beyond him, but he copied down the name, as he had fallen ill at the end of December in 2003.

There were no letters dating after he had fallen ill. The last letter was dated the 5th of November, 2003.

He snorted and continued his search of the trunk. A miniature model of a firedrake nipped at him. Severus shooed it away to collect the prize it was guarding. It was a picture of Potter with Charlie Weasley wrapped around him. As Severus watched with weights in his stomach, Weasley draped his arms over Potter's shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. Potter laughed and grinned at the camera, one hand reaching up to curl in Weasley's hair. Had Potter worked his way through the Weasley clan? What a slag. Severus flicked the photo back into the trunk with a sneer, hoping the drake would send it up in flames.

After thoroughly searching the rest of the trunk and the room, Severus replaced the letters and readjusted the wards before leaving for the potions lab.

When he'd looked at the map of the house, he had wondered at the stupidity of placing the potions lab, where his experiments were conducted, directly under the house, even if it was only a side wing. However, the long section between the north wing and the main quarters of the house labelled 'walkway' was actually a patio with a lattice roof. A creek ran through the earthen walkway, separating the Potions Lab from the house.

Severus crossed one of the small wooden bridges that joined the two sections. The ground storey of the north wing had been labelled 'storage' on the map, but when Severus opened the door, he found himself in a climate-controlled greenhouse. More plants? Was the outside garden not large enough? He stepped forward, and the smell of ozone hit his nose, as well as a particular damp moisture that could only be found in certain climates. Glancing around, he confirmed with his eyes what his nose already knew: these plants were not the type that normally grew in England.

Ignoring the stairs that led to the cellar for the moment, he hobbled down the passageways, examining the plants. Hydnora. Welwitschia. Amorphophallus. Even several Tacca chantrieri, a difficult bloomer that Professor Sprout hadn't been able to grow. The garden outside had contained a wide variety of plants, but few as exotic or rare as this collection. Itemising the plants as he walked, he calculated the number of potions he could create with each plant. If his calculations were correct and the few samples he saw representative of the collection at large, there were very few floral potion ingredients he would ever have to order. Even more importantly, the potions he could brew based on this garden would be unmatched by any brewed using purchased ingredients. Any professional Potions Master knew that to make perfect potions, the ingredients had to be selected with utmost care, as well. Soil, temperature, insect control, pollination, everything mattered, everything could affect the outcome of a potion. He and Potter had more wealth than he had imagined.

Turning, he headed down towards the lab. The entrance was guarded with thick, strong wards. If anyone else had been responsible for them, he would not have bothered trying to break through them, but he had built these, and he would not let Potter keep him from the one place he needed to be. To conserve his strength, he sat on the floor as he worked his way through the familiar yet different enchantments. The wards initially refused to yield, not recognising him, but the more he pushed, the more they relaxed, and soon he was able to break through.

The triumph of defying the arrogant brat filled him with enough energy to ignore the protests of his body and pull himself to his feet.

Severus reached for the door handle and pulled. The door swung open slowly, but it still did not give him enough time to process what he saw. He knew his future self had created the lab with copious amounts of money, but it did not prepare him for the sight that greeted his eyes. Many times, he had dreamt about the sort of laboratory he would create if given ample funds, but there were none as perfect as this, even in his dreams. For a moment he could do nothing but stand in the doorway and blink, half-expecting to wake up. If he had looked in the Mirror of Erised with a wish for a lab, this was what he would see.

Severus stepped farther into the room to observe the layout. He had not one, but two laboratories hidden in the cellar. The first was huge, twice the size of the Potions classroom back at Hogwarts. He had enough work stations to brew twenty different potions at once. Rows and rows of jars filled with ingredients were lined up above the sinks and equipment. Three doors lined the near wall. The first, open, revealed the office. Walking past it for now, he headed over to open the other two doors, revealing cupboards filled with every possible ingredient he could imagine.

The second lab, at the end of the cellar farthest from the house, had been sectioned off from the rest of the cellar. It took Severus a moment to realise why it was so empty and why there were two rooms between the door to the smaller lab and the exit from the larger one.

It was a clean lab, designed entirely for research with volatile, dangerous chemicals. The thick, padded walls of stone, earth, and water, were supported by heavy wards designed to protect the rest of the structures should any spell or potion go awry. Was this where he’d had his accident? Changing his robes and casting purification and cleansing spells on himself, he stepped into the cool room, inhaling carefully. He wrinkled his nose at the scent of stale air. The room smelt as if the lab had been walled off for years. Running his fingers over the worktable, he noted a small, greyish tint clinging to the edges of his fingertips. A bit of dust. If his accident had occurred here, it hadn't been used since.

Removing his wand, he tried to pull up traces of the spells that had been cast in the area, but the room had been magically purified. Someone had removed any trace of what had transpired. It was not suspicious in and of itself; if they thought a spell accident responsible for Severus’s illness, the room would have been cleaned to prevent anyone else from coming to harm. He would have to examine the scrolls Potter had given him to determine what those who had cleaned the room had found.

He gave the room one last look, before returning to the larger laboratory. Severus cast about the room, checking for spells, wards and any other useful information. As typical of most labs, this room had not been magically cleaned for a while, and the traces of old spells lingered on the worktables, in the cauldrons, and on the equipment. Healing potions, restorative potions, stabilising potions, and sleep aids, were the only potions of which he found traces; nothing atypical had been brewed recently. A cauldron full of Dreamless Sleep was bubbling in the corner, but it was the only one in use.

His explorations of the main lab complete, he returned to the office, stepping through the open door. Everything had appeared smaller on the map when he first examined it, and the office was no exception. Twice as big as the storage cupboards, it was nearly three times the size of the one he had held at Hogwarts. Two side-by-side desks straddled the middle of the room, surrounded by books, filing cabinets, boxes and even more ingredients. The desk he assumed to be Potter's overflowed with scrolls, stacks of parchment, and record books.

His own was as neat and tidy as the desk in his tower, scrolls and quills organised, although the organisation was slightly different from the way he had arranged his desk in the past. Flipping through the bits of parchment, he felt magic emanating from the desk. Setting down the parchments, he explored the desk, only to find that it had been taken apart. Whoever had done it, Potter no doubt, had tried to put everything back in order, but he could tell the signs of destruction. Even his chair hadn't been spared; it had been taken apart and was now held together with wizard glue and magic. Stupid boy. He would never be so careless as to leave anything important in or near his desk.

Absently, he ran his hands over the area, searching for anything that Potter might have found. Who was to say he'd not lost his mind during the time the illness grew stronger and he grew weaker? He knelt on the floor and searched the underside of the chairs and the desk. No sign of anything hidden in the wood: Muggle or magical. Grabbing onto the chair to pull himself up again, he adjusted his feet, only to notice that one of the tiles beneath his hand was glowing.

He felt around for wards, any trace of magic, but none could be found. He touched the tile with the tip of his finger.

Fascinating. He had heard about this type of magic but had never been able to get it to work himself. Well, he'd not yet, he corrected himself. It was blood magic; it could not be detected through any normal magical means and could only be activated by those of blood kin. As he had no relatives alive, he had to have set the ward himself. He cast a simple cutting spell on his fingertip and dripped three drops of blood onto the tile. As the last drop hit, the tile vanished, revealing a small block of wood almost as long as his hand and half the width of his palm. Although the wood appeared solid, Severus knew it was a box in disguise. Reaching in, he removed the box, then squeezed more blood from his finger, and the tile reappeared. He tucked the box into his robes.

He conjured a spray bottle and filled it with a mixture of his blood and water. It was enough to search the entire office and lab for more hidden artefacts, but he found no more. A simple cleaning spell set the room right again and, after he had re-examined his old desk, he searched Potter's.

He was still looking through the files of the customers they had dealt with when Potter opened the door.

Potter lingered in the doorway. "You were in the research lab when I found you on the floor. You were working on something. I remember there were ingredients and an open spell book. I rushed you to St Mungo's, and you begged me to stay with you. They couldn't find anything physically wrong with you and they released you the same day. I thought you were fine. You didn't tell me you were sick until a week later." Taking two steps into the room, Potter continued, "I didn't make a note of the ingredients at the time, and when I realised you were ill, I thought you knew what had happened. I didn't think to search through my memories until nearly three weeks later. Despite my best attempts, I couldn't recognise the ingredients or the book. That memory is in the vial of memories I gave you."

Without looking up, Severus asked in a cool voice, "Why did you dismantle my desk?"

"The same reason I searched everywhere in this house for clues to your illness. I thought you couldn't solve the problem on your own and needed my help. You always said there were two places where I should never hide artefacts I wanted to stay hidden: wardrobes and desks. I figured, since you always said you would never hide anything by your desk, it would be a good place to look."

And it had been. Had he known Potter would search his desk? But why use the blood spell if he'd wanted Potter to find it?

He glanced up, giving the boy his full attention. Potter had changed out of his Auror robes and dressed himself in a tight, forest green t-shirt and jeans. The boy was toned, not thick yet, but with a body that suggested far more exercise than he had received at Hogwarts. In less than a year to his mind, Potter had changed from a scrawny kid to a full-grown man. Years of time missing that had transformed Potter into a person Severus did not quite know. It was a disconcerting thought. Without those memories, he didn't belong to this place and time. He was out of step. He needed those missing memories back. He needed to bridge this gap of time.

"Let's arrange," said Potter, "to spend two hours together every night until we sort this out."

Severus raised an eyebrow at Potter. "Why would I burden myself with your aid?"

Potter strode in and dropped into Severus's chair. "You enjoyed your life here. You-"

Bowing his head, Potter stared at his hands. After a moment, he said, "I did think of that. However-" He raised his head, his eyes dry. "-it's such a fucked-up way to commit suicide. Destroying yourself with your magic has to be the worst way to go. Besides, you spent all your time building the garden and the tower and working on your cure. If you did intend to commit suicide, you changed your mind right after."

"You kept the plans for that in here." Potter tapped the side of his temple. "You'd draw out squares for the workers to build and plant each day. I tried to find them after you...fell unconscious, but I couldn't. Let's see...." Potter pulled a scroll from his robes. "From your desk down here I gathered a few clues. You wrote 'Zenith: Draco' shortly before you retired to your tower. I've researched spells and potions that require Draco to be at the Zenith, but I've been unable to find anything." Potter shook his head.

There were very few potions that required the constellations to be in precise locations due to the remoteness of their stars from the earth. The sun and the planets had a far greater effect on magic. Considering how often Draco had been at Zenith at Hogwarts, such a potion would be easy to brew. He wouldn't bother to write such a thing down, as it was easier to check the star charts.

"I also found what appears to be the word 'Evenett' or 'Everett' on a scrap of parchment stuck in a book. They're both popular names, although Everett is also the name of a few cities in America." Potter removed a photo from his robes and handed it to Severus. "Here's the original as well as the enhancement I had made."

Severus took the photo and stared at it. The bit of parchment in the photo was a scrap, a tiny piece torn off. So many spells had been used to reconstruct the scribbled, smudged word that he doubted the letters recovered were what had been originally written.

"I also found an order for various stones and gems," said Potter as he read from the scroll in his hands. "You purchased bloodstone, emerald, golden beryl, jadeite, moonstone, obsidian, opal, rose quartz, staurolite, and tanzanite. You used the obsidian for your tower as well as the jadeite. Tanzanite was used to outline your room. Opal is at the bottom of the pools of water." He looked up from reading the list. "I was unable to figure out what you did with the rest. They could be buried in the tower or the garden, I don't know, you modified the memories of the workmen. I didn't want to try to take it apart while you were still alive in case it was keeping you alive." Glancing up, Potter looked at Severus as if he expected a response.

Severus ran a finger slowly over his lips. He used obsidian blades in his lab since they could reach a thinness unmatched by any other material. Even surgical steel was thicker and rougher than obsidian due to the volcanic glass's lack of crystal structure. Compared to traditional building materials, obsidian fractured easily. Jadeite was stronger, but he suspected the tower had only been lined in the stones.

Why he'd ordered jadeite was a mystery to him. He'd had a jade cauldron to brew a few things at Hogwarts, but it wasn't often used in potion brewing; only a few recipes called for it, mostly those to do with healing. Opal and moonstone were often ground up and used in potions. Moonstone was a component of Wolfsbane and a few healing potions he'd made regularly at Hogwarts. He had never heard of staurolite and knew next to nothing about tanzanite. The rest were familiar as gemstones, but he had never used them in brewing and knew little of their magical properties.

Returning his gaze to the parchment, Potter said, "I know nothing about using these things in casting spells, but I was able to find a witch in San Jose, California, who was very helpful. Unfortunately, there are so many associations, I didn't know where to begin. I wrote down all the major ones as well as the minor ones." Potter slid the scroll over to Severus. "Anyway, the only thing I found that was illuminating was that bloodstone, emerald, and rose quartz are gemstones associated with Beltane. As you already know, Beltane happens to be May Day or the morning of Walpurgis Night, the day before Nagini bit you. It's the day this year when you passed into unconsciousness, six years almost precisely to the date of Nagini's bite." [2]

The Death Eaters had originally been named the Knights of Walpurgis. That day was one of the most powerful days of the year for spell-craft and potion-making. He had fallen unconscious on a very magically auspicious day. He had been a spy too long to believe in coincidence. If he had intended to cast a powerful spell, that would be one of the days to do it. Summer solstice wouldn't occur until the twenty-first of June. Only the twentieth of March, the vernal equinox, was the other close date of magical importance. However, it was nowhere near as important as Walpurgis Night.

If he'd or someone else had cast a spell to save his life, then why all the secrecy? Why keep Potter in the dark if the boy was so determined to aid him? He knew nothing about gemstones; they always seemed weak and rather useless except when ground up and used in potions. Perhaps that was what he had done with the rest of them.

"I have all this information in the scrolls I gave you earlier," Potter said as he placed the scroll back in his robes. "Greater details there, too. It'll take you weeks to read through them all and explore everything. Have you been to the library yet?"

"It's seven PM" Potter sat up straighter. "Time for dinner, the time I'd like to meet you each evening while we work this stuff out. Two hours is all I ask, and I'll leave you completely alone. You can call me to you if you'd like, but I'll not try to approach or write to you outside those two hours."

Two hours in a twenty-four hour day were a lot to devote to a man he'd rather not spend any time with at all, but, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed Potter's help to solve this mystery. Two hours during which he could ignore the twit whenever he desired. He only promised to spend two hours in his company, not two hours speaking to Potter. If he agreed to those two hours, he would have his peace outside of them. "Very well," he sighed, not trying to hide his displeasure at the inconvenience.

Potter's grin widened. The same grin he'd worn in the photograph when Charlie kissed him. "I'll tell Kreacher to serve us dinner in the library. I don't know what he's prepared for dinner, but do you want me to request anything special?"

When he wasn't at Hogwarts, dinner had always come from tins. Purchasing, preparing and cooking fresh food took far too much of his time for him to bother with and he never spent long at Spinner's End anyway. This life of luxury was not what he had envisioned. After Lily's death, his own death was the only sort of future he'd seen for himself. Spies and traitors never lived very long. If it wasn't for his relationship with Potter, he would have thought he was in some sort of delirious dream state, his dying mind attempting to create the perfect fantasy before he passed away.

With all the rest Severus had had while sitting at his desk in his laboratory, it did not take him long to plod to the library. Compared to the rest of the house, the library was not nearly as ostentatious as he expected it to be. About one-third the size of the one at Hogwarts, it was a cramped, over-stuffed room with fat armchairs and tiny reading tables scattered amongst floor to ceiling bookshelves. The bookshelves were arranged in a half-circle around an open space in front of massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows. A desk sat in the middle, the one Severus presumed to be his own.

"Welcome back!" called a voice Severus didn't recognise. A few more steps and Severus realised why he couldn't see the man in the library. He was in one of the paintings that dotted the wall. Two portraits hung on the wall nearest to the desk. Phineas Nigellus Black smiled at Severus from one, and another man Severus had never seen before waved from the second. Balding with a bush of grey hair perched on the back of his head, he had walked to the edge of his portrait and stood up against the canvas as if he were about to take one bounding step and leave the frame.

"Now did he?" asked Phineas, watching Severus with a cautious eye. "You're looking haggard, Severus. Has the boy been taking proper care of you?"

"Oh, lay off," said the other man. "He's been entirely bedridden for over a month and now he's walking! Harry's done a beautiful job."

Severus sank into his chair. The prickly feeling in his legs had subsided considerably, and he only needed a few swigs of his potions to feel right again.

"What are you doing here?" asked the unknown man. "I'd have thought you'd still be celebrating with Harry! A young stallion like that can be ridden for days without tiring!"

"You can see what I've had to deal with here without you," said Phineas, glaring in the direction of his companion's portrait. "Next time you nearly die, pray take me with you. We portraits do not have the luxury of committing suicide."

"Oh..." The other man waved his hand as if shooing away a fly. "He's just upset because Harry never visits the library as much as you and hasn't stepped foot in here for weeks except to update us on your condition. No matter though! You've returned," he said with a cheerful grin.

Phineas was an intelligent man, a true Slytherin who had helped Severus out during his stint as the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Addressing him, Severus said, "The last thing I remember is Nagini's attack. I woke in that bed with no memory beyond the 2nd of May, 1998."

So, if Phineas was telling the truth, Severus had known he would lose his memories and had deliberately hid information from himself. Bizarre. "And you'll honour the wishes of my other self when I ask you this question here and now?" asked Severus, directing a hard stare at Phineas.

Phineas shrugged, still smiling. "I must have ways to make my life entertaining."

The door to the library opened, and Potter marched through, a tray of food floating behind him.

"Philippus Theophrastus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim," said Paracelsus with a theatrical bow. "But call me Paracelsus."

Potter sent a reading table galloping towards them and transfigured it into a table suitable for a meal. One of the armchairs joined him and he busied himself preparing tea. "This is where you spent most of your time when you weren't in your laboratory."

"It's your favourite room in the house," said Paracelsus, "apart from the bedroom."

Potter shot a warning glance at Paracelsus. "Paracelsus, please." He pushed Severus's teacup to his edge of the table and prepared his own. "How do your legs feel?" he asked Severus. "I massaged restorative potions into the muscles every day so that you'd be able to walk on your own once you felt better, but potions stopped working after you took ill."

"I can walk. It is enough." It was hard to judge how effectively he had recovered without knowing what had afflicted him. He was not a mediwizard and did not know how long it took for muscles to atrophy when not in use. Even what little knowledge he had was of no use without understanding the nature of his illness. To have one's magic turn against the body was not a condition of which he had ever heard.

He took a sip of his tea. Perfect. It was as if he had brewed and prepared the cup himself.

Severus watched Potter through half-hooded eyes. It was difficult to bear that this near-stranger knew so much about him. Unaware of the scrutiny, Potter tucked into his meal, cutting into his steak with gusto. At Hogwarts, he had always been rather sloppy in his table habits, eating as though he thought the food would disappear unless he stuffed it in his mouth. He still took quick, furtive bites, but they were no longer disgustingly large, and he sat with his back straight, his fork and knife held perfectly. The tousled dark hair lifted, the intense green eyes meeting his own.

It was too perfect. It was too him. This entire house, even with its flaws, had been built for him, for a man whom he didn't even know. A doppelgänger who was him yet not. A future self he wasn't ready to become and didn't know if he wanted to be.

Severus wanted to smash the table, throw the food in Potter's face and tear down the house and the lab. He would obliterate every single trace of this life and have one entirely of his own making. His own choices. He had always despised the idea of destiny, of fate. He had found himself in this future, but that did not mean that he had to accept it.

In a controlled voice he announced, "Tomorrow I will purchase a flat of my own."

"No?" hissed Severus, narrowing his eyes to slits. How dare this child order him around.

Potter stared with his jaw set stubbornly, and his eyes narrowed. "You're sick. You're in danger. I won't lose you again."

Severus shook his head and returned Potter's sharp gaze, his fist tightening over his fork. "You've already lost him, you stupid brat. When will that get through that thick skull of yours?"

Potter's lips were pressed thin and his face took on an even more mulish quality. "You're here. That's enough."

Severus threw down his fork. "I was forced to suffer through your company for six years. I'll not spend an unnecessary moment in it for even a minute longer!" He bit back the 'get out' he wanted to yell. This was Potter's home as much as his, and he did not want to shout commands he was not certain he could enforce.

"The one only you seem to see." Severus crossed his arms. "Everyone else I have spoken to says that I became injured through an experiment gone wrong."

With lifted eyebrows, Potter asked, "Do you really think you messed up an experiment?"

"And if you did," said Potter quietly, "then why all the mystery? Why not just tell me that you made a mistake? Where did your memories go? Even if the poisoner had nothing to do with this, don't you want to know what happened to those memories? Don't you want to know what went so horribly wrong? How you cured your illness? I've been researching this for months. I want answers. I've hired all the experts I could and none of them could tell me anything. You're the only one who can solve this mystery."

"You assume that I'll give you the answers once I find them," said Severus, drawing himself up taller in his chair.

Lifting his cup of tea, Potter gave a tiny nod of agreement. "I figure that, if nothing else, you'll want to boast about how you were able to solve the mystery while I was too stupid to figure it out. You can't prove that you've solved it unless you explain it."

It was uncanny. All the Occlumency in the world wouldn't protect him from a man who knew him just as well as he knew himself.

Potter took a sip of his tea and continued, "Whenever you solved a mystery in the lab, you had to rush to publish the results to prove that you had done it."

Severus stared at Potter. He would never have done that. Most of his work had remained his own, his creations kept close to his chest to prevent them from being turned against him. Ever since his spells had gotten into the hands of James Potter, inadvertently revealed through Lily and his own bragging, he had sworn to limit the amount of knowledge that passed to his enemies. Potter didn't know him as well as he thought he did.

Instead of trying to find out what Potter knew, he should try to find out what Potter thought he knew. He needed to understand this doppelgänger who'd not trusted himself or Potter. Perhaps the reason he'd hid the information from himself was to prevent Potter from finding it. He could not trust him.

He stared at the mix of boy and man across from him. The newly clean-shaven jaw, thicker though it was, emphasised the other youthful features of his face, such as plump lips and smooth skin without a hint of a wrinkle.

"I think it would be best," Potter was saying, "if you stayed in our old bedroom. After all, the more you separate yourself from this life, the harder it'll be for you to uncover the past."

Potter dropped his utensils, crossed his arms, and leant back in his chair. "I'm not letting you leave the grounds. Not until you've regained your health and can prove to me that you can defend yourself on the street."

"How dare you! Who do you think you are?" Severus reached up his sleeve and whipped out his wand. "I'd like to see you try to stop me."

Potter yanked out his own, training it on Severus's chest. "Try me. If you can get past me, I'll let you leave the grounds."

With a practised arm, his vivid eyes never leaving Severus's, Potter cast protection spells, leaving the two of them isolated in a protected bubble.

Severus's magic was weak; he had not fully recovered. Could he beat Potter? He had been duelling before Potter was born, but apparently this had been common practice between them, and he couldn't imagine himself bothering to duel Potter again and again unless Potter could hold his own at least reasonably well. Then again, Potter was as stubborn as a Hippogriff. He might have been trounced again and again, only to keep coming back for more. The last duel between them had been nothing; the boy's spells had been easier to flick off than battling a pixie.

If he fought and lost he could never regain his honour. If he were at full strength, he would not hesitate to attack, but even transfiguring his walking stick left him weak. He would not enter into a duel unless he was certain he would win or at least draw to a stalemate. His best chance of winning was to draw Potter off his guard. Thankfully, he had other ways to attack besides using his wand.

In his deepest, darkest voice, he said, "For a boy who is supposedly my lover, you are quick to attack me."

Potter's wand never wavered. "This was how we started our relationship. You would constantly attack me. I learnt how to fight back. You trained me to challenge you."

Why on earth would he ever do such a thing? It was an act of suicide. Potter, of all people, would be the last person he would ever bother to attempt to train. That must have taken all six years. "So tell me, boy, do you do the same with your other partners?"

Eyes growing comically wide behind round glasses, Potter gripped his wand tighter. "What d'you mean?"

Standing would allow him more room to dodge and aim, but his legs were still weak. Sitting would allow him to maintain what little strength he had and he could use the table and the dishes for cover. Now to knock Potter further off-balance. Potter would expect higher attacks; time to hit low. "Are Ginevra and Charlie your only conquests, or did you work your way through the whole Weasley family?"

Potter's brow furrowed. "Gin fancied me. Long ago. But you know-" He paused and swallowed. "There was nothing between us."

Severus had scored a hit, although he wasn't sure how deep the wound went. Time to twist the knife. With his eyes on Potter's face rather than his wand, he said, "Why the attraction to older men, Potter? Do you have a need to find a father figure? Trying to cover up for your responsibility in Black's death? Or-"

"Or maybe Sirius molested me and that's why I'm obsessed with older men," said Potter as he gave a slight roll of his eyes. "I've heard it before, Severus, try again. Besides," he added, showing an unnecessary amount of teeth, "you're the one who fucked a former student. You're old enough to be my father."

Forget his promise to Lily, he would kill the little snot as soon as he could. He saw a weakness in Potter's armour, if only he could work through the cracks. The comment with which he had accused Potter of being a slag had hit a mark, and the boy had never denied being with Charlie. "Have you always been a whore? How young were you when you first spread your legs for Charlie?"

"Seventeen," Potter shot back. "He had such a huge dick. Hung like a Hippogriff and strong as one too. He would pick me up and fuck me-"

"No wonder he's gone," snarled Severus, unwilling to hear about Potter's other conquests. There was a quiver, ever so slight, at the tip of Potter's wand, and it was enough for Severus to zero in. There was pain here, buried beneath the surface. "He was glad to leave you." Potter's face went white. "I wanted to leave you. You always drive away those you love, don't you, Potter?" Potter's eyes were glassy; Severus was almost ready for the attack. Just a bit more and Potter would be wounded enough to be defenceless. "No one ever stays with you because you are a worthless, stupid little child who-"

Potter dropped his wand and bowed his head, his face hidden in a mass of black hair. Severus clutched his wand, gave a smirk and sat back in triumph. He could still defeat Potter without casting a single spell.

Phineas snapped, "Quiet." In the same haughty tone, he asked, "Have you boys finished brawling, or will we be subjected to more testosterone-fuelled displays?"

Only Potter could drive him so mad. He had worked for the Dark Lord for years and spied on him for decades, and he'd never once lost his temper in the Dark Lord's presence—not even when it would've helped his cover. What was it about Potter that could turn him into a schoolboy?

Potter slouched in his chair. "I'm finished." His hand shook as he reached for his tea. Was he about to cry? How pathetic.

Severus slipped his wand back into his sleeve and returned to his meal as if nothing had happened.

Hunched, Potter clutched his tea cup in both hands. After several minutes, without lifting his head, he spoke in a low, even voice, "I compiled a list of Potions Masters you’ve consulted with in the past. It’s very short, and most of them dislike you, because one of your favourite pastimes was responding to their published papers with letters to the editors, tearing their research apart." From his robes he produced a small bit of parchment and sent it across the table with a spell. "Only one of them says he has heard from you since you were taken ill, and he says that you asked him about ways to magically sustain the body as in a wizarding version of Muggle life-support. He’s sending me a copy of the data he compiled for you.

"I’ve written to everyone I could find who’s written anything on memory removal and I’ve ordered every book on the subject that we don’t already own. I haven’t had the chance to pull out the texts on that subject here, but it shouldn’t take you long to find them on your own. Phineas and Paracelsus know the library better than I do and should be able to help you." Potter set his tea cup back on its saucer.

"I’ve already asked Kreacher to set up quarters for me in one of the guest rooms. Take the master bedroom, it’s your house more than mine." Before Severus could say a word, Potter stood. "I know I asked for two hours tonight, but I have a lot of work to catch up on. I’ll see you tomorrow evening." With that, he turned and walked away, his dinner mostly untouched. Off to whinge and lick his wounds no doubt. Severus continued his meal.

Phineas gave a snort, although whether he was agreeing or disagreeing with Paracelsus was hard to say.

"I’ll go and speak to him," Paracelsus said, darting off. He jumped into the next frame over and Severus saw him leap from frame to frame until he vanished.

"He was once a great sorcerer," said Phineas. "His portrait was stuffed in a crate for ages and then put on display in a classroom full of fifth years. His mind’s gone to rot, although he occasionally has excellent magical advice, particularly on old magic." Phineas drummed his spidery fingers against the armrest of his chair as he stared at Severus as if seeing him for the first time. "You have none of your memories since 1998?"

Although he and Phineas had never directly quarrelled, Severus had never got along with Blacks, with the sole exception of Narcissa, and that had only happened after she'd become a Malfoy. "If you intend to taunt me," said Severus with ice in his voice, "don't bother."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Phineas with a slick smile. "Alas, as much as it pains me to admit it, there are mysteries to me in this situation. I do not know the exact nature of your disease or how you cured it. I do intend to find out though, and that is why you must work with the boy."

Severus scoffed, but Phineas continued on as if he'd not heard him. "Forget this nonsense about living in your own place; you need your laboratory, your books, your notes, and as much of your memories as you can scavenge. Sleep in your own room. Eat at your tables. Do everything you can to remember."

"You assume there is something to scavenge." Severus's lip lifted in a small sneer.

Phineas's fingers crept along the armrest. "You are very particular with your words, Severus. I distinctly remember you telling me 'If I can't remember....' and there would be no need for an 'if' if the loss of memory was inevitable. Of course...." He leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers together in front of his chest. "Whether the 'if' referred to your ability to keep your memories or your ability to recover them remains to be seen."

"Potter wishes to pursue this Potion Master he blames for my illness. If it was the result of an accident, then chasing him is a waste of my time. The boy is as stubborn as a Hippogriff and I have no desire to spend my days in fruitless searches."

Phineas shrugged. "It may not be fruitless depending on which aspects of the past you wish to focus on. It was in the poisoner's files that you obtained the recipe for the potion necessary for the spell you were casting. If there is a way to recover the lost memories, it'll most likely be found through that means. However-" He held up one long, crooked finger. "Seeking knowledge for knowledge's sake will only lead to destruction. There are some paths which are not meant to be followed. I know you, both your old and new self, too well to expect you to heed my advice, but, Severus.... There is a reason you did not want yourself to know that spell if you survived."

Sunday, 16 May, 7:00 AM

After Severus had bathed, shaved and dressed, he felt more like his old self than he ever had before. His hair was longer and had to be tied back at the nape of his neck, but the man who greeted him in the mirror was a man he had known all his life. Although he had changed considerably over the past six years, he was still Severus Snape.

He half-expected Potter to bother him, but he must've had another set of toiletries, because no one else had stepped into the room since Severus had entered it the night before. He returned to the library, his gait now a swift step instead of a hobble. Now that he had more freedom to move around, perhaps he would visit his bank accounts and see if he had any artefacts contained within his Gringotts vault and Muggle deposit box.

Kreacher popped over as soon as Severus reached the ground floor. "Master Harry says Master Snape is to have whatever he desires for breakfast."

So, the brat had ran straight to the arms of his ex-boyfriend after the fight! He'd better not be fucking him, the whore.

“Bring whatever I typically eat on a Sunday morning to the library." Severus turned on his heel and strode away, marching into the library.

Paracelsus could not be seen anywhere in the room, while Phineas was reading a book two frames over from where he'd resided the night before.

"If you are looking for the boy," he said without looking up from his book, "he won't be back for another few hours."

He would put a stop to it this instant. Even though he wanted nothing to do with the boy, there was still the principle of the matter. Severus Snape would not be cheated on. Not by anyone, much less Potter. Even worse, the slut wasn't bothering to hide his infidelity, he was flaunting it. Everyone knew how little he cared about Severus. No one had ever treated him with such open disrespect and disdain. No one would again once he was finished dealing with Potter. He would break off the relationship and force a division of assets. Then, and only then, could Potter sleep with whomever he desired.

If Potter would disrespect him, then there was no reason he should respect Potter. "Is there a Floo on the premises?"

He normally went to Diagon Alley in disguise. Even without threats to his life, he liked to blend in with the crowds and observe people who would act differently should they know he was in their company. However, he had no Polyjuice prepared and he would not take anything from his laboratory without confirming that the potion had been made perfectly. One could never be too careful when Potter was involved in the brewing. There was also the matter that the best way to learn about himself was to observe how other people reacted to him.

It took him an hour to gather the necessary items: papers, Gringotts keys and bank statements, and weapons. Soon, however, he was striding down Diagon Alley.

He didn't know what reaction he had expected, but it wasn't this. No one cared. He was Severus Snape, former Death Eater, murderer of Albus Dumbledore, the Dark Lord's right hand man and no one gave a damn. A few familiar faces, former students perhaps, gave him a friendly nod as he passed by, but that was it. Was buggering the Boy Who Lived enough to earn absolution in the mind of the wizarding world? Surely that was not why he'd done it?

The goblins greeted him at Gringotts with a deference he had never received before, and when he saw that his vault had been moved to the area reserved for those with a considerable amount of income, he understood why. However, nothing could have prepared him for the shock of what he saw when the door opened.

A small pile of galleons sat near the door, and that was the extent of his wealth. For a moment, he thought the goblin had made a mistake. He'd had more than this six years before! He scanned every corner of the vault, then he spotted, in the far corner, the books in which he'd recorded his laboratory notes. Scooping them up, he rifled through the pages. Ingredient after ingredient met his eye, the list growing more complex as the pages progressed.

As he stared at the last pages he'd written, he understood. Where once he'd been wealthy, he had spent all his money on the cure for his mysterious illness. Tucking the books in his robes, he left the galleons untouched. The second vault he had access to was a joint account with Potter.

"Mr. Potter's signature is required for withdrawals over one thousand galleons," said the goblin as he unlocked the vault.

Considering the expense of their massive house and the laboratory, Severus expected a considerable amount of money in the vault, but it was not as full as expected, although he estimated it contained at least twice the amount of savings he had accumulated while working at Hogwarts. No wonder Potter worked. Business must have suffered once Severus was taken ill. Nodding to the goblin, Severus strode out of Gringotts.

He left Diagon Alley and examined his Muggle bank accounts, but they were equally disappointing. His safe deposit box had piles of cash in various currencies, but his rudimentary calculations estimated the amount in the box to be no more than three thousand galleons at the most. Enough to start a new life, but nothing more beyond that. Along with the cash, the Muggle safe contained an extra wand, various passports and false identities, and a picture of Potter. He picked it up.

It was a Muggle picture, Potter frozen in time with a stupid grin on his face. He stood in front of a field or blurry forest, dressed in scruffy jeans and a loose black t-shirt. On the back, Severus had written 'Harry 5.6.01'. His relationship with Potter had not begun until late 2002. Why had he kept a picture from before they'd started their relationship?

Tossing the picture back amongst the money, he left the bank and found a pay phone on the street. He called the number he had memorised from the business card he had found in Potter's trunk.

If only there were spells to trace a person through a phone. Unfortunately, any use of a spell would damage the phone. "An associate of mine gave me your business card. He recommended your work."

"I am very exclusive about whom I choose as my companions. To be clear, you are simply hiring a companion for the evening. Intimacy is not guaranteed and should not be expected."

He was an escort! Severus should have guessed straight away at the name 'Andreros'. Andr- was Greek for 'man', eros, 'love'. Potter had the business card of an escort locked in his trunk!

The man continued, "If you could e-mail me pictures of yourself, I would greatly appreciate it. After I have received the photos, I'll contact you with more details."

When Severus found his voice, he murmured, "Of course. I shall 'e-mail' you photographs of myself. Thank you for your time." He hung up. Bile hung thick in his throat, impossible to swallow. No wonder Potter had reacted so strongly to accusations of infidelity. The whore knew he was guilty.

He had always sworn he wouldn't turn into his father, but as he stormed back to his new home, muscles tight and jaw clenched until it hurt, he could think of nothing but how he wanted to punish Potter. Magic wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as the Muggle way. His hands ached to pound into Potter's face and chest. He would choke him until he heard apologies. He would beat him until he begged for forgiveness.

Severus marched forward. He shoved open the doors, slamming them against the walls and earning a "My word!" from Paracelsus.

Potter, seated in a chair beside the windows, rose to stand. In a voice thick with accusation, he asked, "Where have you been?"

Severus forced his hands to remain at his side. He would not kill the boy. He would not harm him, even though he deserved it. He would get his things and leave. No. He would force that slag to leave. This was his home just as much as Potter's. He wasn't the one who had been fucking around behind his sick boyfriend's back.

"That is none of your concern," he said in a cold voice as he strode over to his desk, unable to look at Potter without hurting him.

Potter spoke from the window. "I thought you had fallen sick somewhere and had no one to help you. I thought you had left me. I thought-"

"I have left you. I want nothing to do with you. I want our assets divorced. I want half of the value of this house."

"Shut up!" Severus clenched his wand, hidden in his robes. "There is nothing you can say that will make me change my mind." He turned to sneer at the whore. "I know what you are."

"I don't…." Potter blinked at him behind round glasses. His brow furrowed. "I don't know what you mean."

The slut was playing innocent. Pretending he didn't know. He thought he could get away with it, that no one would ever suspect Harry Sodding Potter of cheating. Severus's grip tightened on his wand. "I know you went to see Charlie Weasley."

He didn't care! The whore was fucking another man, and all his proclamations of devotion were a lie. Potter didn't care about him at all. It was as if a hand had reached into his stomach and yanked out his intestines. The library was deathly quiet, Severus too gutted to say anything, Potter staring.

No. He wanted to march over and put his fist through Potter's face. He wanted to squeeze his neck until it broke. He wanted to stomp his head into the marble of the floor again and again and again. "Did you fuck him?" he growled.

The slag enjoyed driving him mad. The relationship had been a lie. A game designed to drive him mad. He had committed suicide because he could not stand the thought of spending a second longer in Potter's company. Through clenched teeth, Severus asked with a deadly chill, "Did. You. Fuck. Him?"

He had fucked Charlie Weasley! He had fucked Charlie Weasley that very day while Severus had been trying to put together pieces of a missing life.

The floor trembled and Paracelsus barely had time to utter an "Oh my!" when the windows exploded, hurling blades of glass throughout the room and forcing Potter to duck. Severus snatched a heavy book off the desk and flung it at Potter, striking him in the head. Off balance, the boy collapsed, glass crunching under his weight.

Paracelsus was yelling, Phineas's softer, darker voice mixed in with his. Severus couldn't hear the individual words; his heart pounded in his head, drowning out the other sounds. It'd been years since he'd used uncontrolled wandless magic. Decades. It'd happened all the time when he was younger, but it hadn't occurred since he'd come to Hogwarts. Not even on the night Lily had died.

A crack like lightning announced the arrival of Kreacher and all the glass vanished. Blood flowed down the left side of Potter's face and dripped from his fingers. Kneeling in a growing pool of red, Potter stared at his bleeding hand as if he had never seen his own blood before. He lifted his head, his face white, his blood crimson, his eyes unblinking.

"Kreacher, no!" cried Potter, reaching out to the house-elf with blood-stained fingers. "Don't hurt him!"

"Master Harry," the house-elf whinged, whirling to face Potter. "He attacked you! The bat attacked you!"

"Why?" asked Potter, blood dripping from his outstretched hand, his eyes still wide. "Because of Charlie? That was before you."

"So?" Blood flew from Potter's lips and landed in the puddle. "Why the fuck does it matter?"

Charlie Weasley was dead. He had attacked Potter over a dead man. Charlie was dead and Potter was bleeding on the floor. How was he supposed to know Charlie had died? His mind was a wreck, deprived of six years of memories. He couldn't have memorised that long list he had glanced at only once. He had a million things to learn and memorise.

He stared at the blood dripping down Potter's face. He'd hurt him. He'd never made the boy bleed before. He had wanted to see blood and now the sight of it made his stomach churn. He had become his father.

Kreacher muttered to himself as he waved his hand over Potter's injuries. The blood vanished, leaving only flawless skin. Once Potter was healed, all trace of the attack removed, the house-elf set to work repairing the windows.

Potter's eyes, Lily's eyes, had never left Severus's. He climbed to his feet and stood there, a silent accusation written on his face

"Well?" he asked, his voice piercing the silence. "What's wrong with me visiting Charlie?"

Severus's hands hung limp at his sides like corpses. When he spoke, his mouth was dry, the words hard to force past his lips. "How was I supposed to know that he'd died?"

"Do you think I memorised that list? Do you think the name Weasley was worthy of my attention and recognition while the others weren't? I've had hundreds of students! My primary concern when examining the list was to see which Death Eaters had survived, which were imprisoned, and which could prove problematic to me. I have absolutely no reason to concern myself with the death of one child from an overpopulated family!"

The house-elf disappeared. Severus transfigured a table for them and dropped into his chair. Potter did not budge from his spot. Even with the matter of the escort still unresolved, Severus had made a grave mistake. With anyone else, he would have taken his time, obtained irrefutable proof before he began his accusations. He'd been so determined to prove Potter untrustworthy, he'd let his emotions get in the way of the facts. It was unforgivable. It was sloppy and stupid and exactly the sort of thing he'd always hated Potter doing. He would reserve judgement until he confirmed that Potter had never slept with the escort.

Potter glanced at the table as if it would bite him, but he sat at the opposite end.

"Why don't you tell him about Charlie?" suggested Paracelsus. "Severus might not have known how strongly you and Charlie felt about each other until you told him."

Potter glanced over at Paracelsus and nodded. He lowered his gaze to the table and took a breath. "Charlie and I got together during what would've been my seventh year. We started owling each other during my sixth year when Ginny figured out I was gay. He was with me until the end." His eyes hidden by his hair, he quietly added, "He was killed by Voldemort. He died in front of me, protecting me."

Severus had assumed the boy had stayed with Ginevra. It was the first time he had heard the elder Weasley had accompanied Potter during that final year. But then, he had never concerned himself with the most intimate details of Potter's life, and how would word of such a relationship have reach his ears while he'd been busy with his work as headmaster?

No wonder his earlier jabs had sunk so deep; Potter blamed himself for Charlie's death. Severus had lived too long with guilt to not recognise the signs, now that he'd stopped and paid attention. The boy's pilgrimage to the grave (how many times a year?) occurred for the same reason he visited Lily's. Not to mourn the dead, but to seek forgiveness. The need for absolution had never ebbed, even after all these years.

Kreacher returned with dinner, glaring at Severus as he set all the food on Potter's side of the table before vanishing. Potter floated the dishes to the centre of the table and neither spoke while they ate. Severus sipped the tea that was brewed to his personal level of perfection, cut into the roast beef cooked to his favoured temperature, and ate the potatoes that he could not have asked to be spiced or roasted better. Not even at Hogwarts had he eaten such an ideal Sunday roast. This house, this lab, this garden, this meal, even this library had been made for him and by him. He had never planned on living beyond the Dark Lord; it would have been nothing but foolish hope. Of course, he'd made the basic preparations—hidden bank accounts, potions tucked up his sleeves, found points to which he could Apparate and disappear—but he'd never expected to be able to utilise those arrangements. Settling down in a home with Potter had never once occurred to him, and even if he had dreamt of such a thing, this life would not be what he would have picked for himself.

Yet, he'd made this life. This was what he'd chosen, eventually. He may have travelled the world, but he had returned to England. He'd poured his money into his lab and business. For some unknown reason, he'd decided to be with Potter even though the boy drove him mad. This had been what he'd wanted, at least at one point in his life. Even if at some later point he had decided to leave it, he could not have hated every moment of it. He was too practical a man to remain in a painful situation when he could escape at any time.

After Kreacher had served pudding, Potter broke the silence with, "I put in a leave of absence from work. Tomorrow I intend to re-visit the crime scene where the poisoner died. I purchased the plot of land after you took ill, and magically sealed it. The investigation was already finished, the poisoner declared dead. It's possible that he faked his death. If he did, I doubt he'll return to his property, but we may find clues as to where he's gone. He has only one relative, his mother, and I've had her watched since we declared him our prime suspect. He's never shown up there as far as we can establish."

Potter laid his napkin on the table, pushed back his chair and stood. His eyes searched Severus's face, then he said, "I'd like you to come along if you feel up to it. You might find some clues that we missed the last time. I'll be leaving at nine."

"Go with him, Severus," said Paracelsus. "It would do you well to get more fresh air. You've always been wound too tight."

Severus suspected he meant more than just missing memories, but he saw no reason to refuse. His practised eye would notice things Potter would not. "Very well, I'll meet you in the foyer at nine o'clock."

Monday, 17 May, 9:15 AM

The poisoner, Corey Endell, lived in Stockport on Worrall Street, which looked much like Spinner's End. As Potter removed the wards enough to allow the two of them to slip in, Severus examined the rows of houses, most of which were boarded up. He knew, just by looking at the outside, that Endell's two-up-and-two-down house had the same arrangement as his own. His, while old and worn down, had been well kept. Misshapen wooden planks of a variety of sizes and colours covered Endell's windows, a few stretching over the door, as well.

Severus cast a protection and decontamination spell on himself before following Potter inside.

He'd never considered his home cheery, but even the hovel at Spinner's End had been bright compared to the dank, barely lit room in which he found himself. Potter conjured candles and cast lighting spells, but the extra light only pierced the room with jagged shadows and illuminated the thick cloud of dust hanging in the air. Cobwebs covered every corner, dead spiders still perched in their webs. The sitting room held a moth-eaten chair, and the splintered wood of a small table, nothing more.

"He died here," said Potter, pointing at the broken remains of the table. "They burst through the door. The first two died—it was booby trapped. The second two cast at him. One hit."

Potter led him to the kitchen next. One plate, one bowl, one fork, one spoon, one knife, and one cup were dumped in a rusting sink. A few tins of soup sat on the table next to the single chair.

"He mostly ate soups. Occasionally he would nick meals from various Muggle restaurants. Nothing in his cupboards." Potter opened the doors of the cabinets, showing Severus the empty shelves.

Potter continued speaking as he led Severus to the back door, "He never worked, as far as we can tell. That's one of the reasons it was so hard to catch him. He had a birth certificate, he was registered as a wizard, and that was it. Never went to school. Never had a job. Never married, had any children, or drove a car. Never even got sick as far as we can tell."

The view from the door was exactly the same as from Spinner's End, down to the same wooden fence. Still talking, Potter led him to the stairs. "His father, a pureblood, died when he was four and his mum, a half-blood, raised him. I think the father was a Death Eater, but I can't say for sure. If he was, he was not one of the major ones. He died in '74, in the midst of a huge wand fight at the Ministry. It was a real mess; they never sorted out who were Death Eaters, who were defending, and who were innocent bystanders. His mum-"

Severus held up a hand for silence, and Potter shut his mouth. Even though others had been through the lab to clean it of Dark Magic, including himself, one could never be too careful when walking into the lab of a Dark Potions Master.

Keeping potion labs dark helped to prevent contamination of the ingredients and disturbance of brewing process, but there was no need for the stale darkness that seemed almost a wall of ink, as if they had stepped into an overpowered Nox. Traces of Dark Magic still clung to the walls and hovered around the edges.

Potter pushed past him and busied himself battling the darkness with more lighting spells and candles. Severus stood in the doorway, watching as bursts of light revealed the lab: bookcases overflowing with books; two long, rickety workbenches scattered with equipment, a pair of cauldrons between them; and piles upon piles of boxes and crates. There was no room for brewing, the books unreachable due to the stacks of boxes, and the narrow space between the work benches was only four feet wide, not nearly enough to properly brew without worry of contamination.

Once a suitable amount of light penetrated the darkness, Potter turned back to Severus and spoke. "The Ministry went though the boxes, but they repacked them after they were finished. They confiscated the most dangerous of the artefacts and ingredients. The ones you didn't nick, of course. They called us here after the battle, but we arrived before they removed his body. You confirmed his death through the use of spells, I never saw you touch the body. I've marked the boxes." He swished his wand and a few of the boxes glowed a faint red as if lit from the inside. "These are the ones that contain ingredients that were never identified." He stood, waiting, ready for Severus to proceed.

Murderer though Endell may have been, his life squalid, his lab a wretched hovel, Severus recognised the mark of a Potions Master, a true genius. This was where Endell had created poisons that had gone undetected for years. This was where he'd made his last stand. They were treading on sacred ground. "This place has been decontaminated, purified, checked for poisons, hidden artefacts, and booby traps?" asked Severus, taking another look around the room.

"The Ministry, me, and you, when you first arrived. You barred everyone else from entry—including me—and examined the lab on your own. I never saw you take the items you stole, I only know you did because there were new objects in your lab afterwards that weren't there before, and when I confronted you about it, you admitted you'd stolen them." There was enough light for Severus to see the disapproving look on Potter's face again.

His future self undoubtedly had known more than his current self, but he dared not step foot in the lab without first employing his customary precautions. He cast the spells of detection and revelation, entering the room only after he was certain nothing awaited him in each area. Potter watched silently and without question, moving out of the way when Severus approached. If Potter was offended, he never showed it.

Traces of magic hung heavy in the room, but it was all old magic, so heavily faded as to make it impossible to distinguish individual spells. Potter's magic stood out more than Endell's. Endell's magic felt old, dry, as if he had been taught by a long line of wizards who had never bothered to use new spells. Potter's young, intense magic overpowered it, suppressed it.

Once Severus was sure no lingering spells remained as traps, he ordered, "Move the boxes with identified ingredients to the sitting room by hand as much as possible. Where are the ingredients that were used to make the poison?"

"Scattered around," said Potter. "Most of them are typical ingredients, the rare ones are in that trunk." He pointed to a glowing red trunk under a workbench. After pointing out the trunk, Potter then set about removing the boxes from the room.

As the cauldrons were contaminated by spells cast to determine the contents and the most recently brewed potions, Severus would have to rely on the Ministry's records to see what Endell had been working on before he died. Hopefully, the list had been supplied by himself. "You have a list of the most recently brewed potions?" he asked, once Potter returned to grab another box.

"Yes." Potter rummaged in his robes and produced a small scroll that he tossed to Severus. "He made the poison earlier and administered it from vials kept in a trunk that is now locked up in the Ministry. I can take you into the Ministry, but you can't remove anything."

"Yes, that's- Uh...." Potter pulled out piles and piles of scrolls from his robes. "I must not've marked it right," he said with a frown, reading the label of each scroll. Severus considered himself quite meticulous about his research, but Potter had beaten the pants off of him when it came to this investigation. Shifting through nearly identical scrolls, Potter grabbed one and held it up. "Here it is!" he said with a triumphant grin. He marched over and unfurled it on the workbench before Severus.

Potter pointed his wand along the scroll, describing each list. "All the books in the library in order first, then alphabetical order. Next, I have a list of the ones we don't already own. The ones with the checks by them are the ones I was able to purchase or acquire; the ones without are the ones I can't find anywhere else." He swished his wand and several of the books glowed red. "His mother is from a very old family and we think he got the books from her. Some of them were written hundreds of years ago and many of them are in Gaeilge, Irish Gaelic.

"He never wrote in the books, although he took notes in Gaeilge. He was a huge fan of Irish mythology, has a lot of copies of books on the subject and a spell book supposedly by Medb, although you translated it and said it was rubbish, just basic spells." Potter unfurled the scroll further and bent forward, the edge of his robes brushing against Severus's leg. A distracting scent filled Severus's nostrils. He leant forward, trying to determine its source, and it seemed to be coming from Potter. He smelt intoxicating, a unique blend of spice and earth, like fresh herbs plucked from a well-tended garden. Clean and rich, warm like summer rain. Gone was the familiar boyhood stench of sweat and dirt, any trace of it evaporated. Severus bent even farther toward Potter, trying to drink in more of the elusive aroma.

"Let me see," Potter was saying, his finger running down the list. "I thought I remembered the name ... I think it was...."

He was smelling the boy as if he were a new potion ingredient! But what the hell was the brat wearing? Some sort of pheromone? Severus wanted to grab him by the robes, drag him forward, sink his nose into the cloth, and just breathe. It was sick. He turned away, marching to the other side of the room.

Oblivious, Potter stabbed his finger at the scroll. "There!" He spun around on his heels and pushed aside boxes to pull a book off the shelf. "You said that you thought it was from the fourteenth century and probably-"

"Set it over there." Severus crooked a finger to the workbench. The farther Potter stayed away from him, the better. "I'll examine it later."

Setting the book down carefully, Potter returned to his task of moving the boxes without being prompted. Severus turned to face the opposite direction and tried to compose himself. If he'd had a relationship with Potter, his body would have been conditioned to respond to stimuli with attraction and arousal. The facts were indisputable; yet they provided no comfort. It was only through sheer force of will that he did not return to the other side of the room to try to catch a scent of Potter, even when he knew it was impossible for the boy to catch him in the act.

A boy, that was what he was. A child. A youth young enough to be his son! A former student, who returned to the lab and picked up a huge box as if it were nothing.

Those boxes were not light, yet Potter, dressed in heavy robes in a stuffy room, had not broken a sweat. Severus turned away, swallowing hard. He was not prepared for this world. Cunning and planning could always overcome brute force, but Potter was no longer the dunce he remembered. The boy would be on his guard, now that he knew he was suspected of infidelity. How would they fare in a wand battle, now that he had regained his full strength?

Severus shook his head. First things first. He removed each book not already in their possession and placed in a tidy pile on the workbench. Endell had mixed potion and spell books with Irish mythologies and texts. History had never been Severus's strong suit, and although he knew some of the myths were based on historical witches and wizards, he hadn't the ability to tell which were worth keeping and which were rubbish. Endell had thought them all worth keeping, and that was enough for him for now.

As he pulled a book on Irish mythology off the shelf, he found one hidden behind the others. Solid black and as heavy as the books made of cloth and parchment, it displayed no title or author. Severus tried every single revelation spell of which he could think, but the unnamed book remained frozen in stasis.

Potter approached the table as Severus was feeling around for signs of a magical lock.

His only consolation for not knowing something that Potter did was that he'd probably taught Potter the trick in the first place. Unwilling to let the boy come closer, he slid the book across the table. Potter laid a hand on the book and closed his eyes. Black melted to silver, and the book flattened, the edges of it curling up and up. White light burst forth, and when it faded, a silver bowl remained, with golden birds carved into the side and garnets around the rim.

A grin played on Potter's lips. "A replica of Étaín's bowl," he said. "She was an Irish witch princess of great beauty. Drinking from her vessel was said to convey good looks upon the drinker. You said this was fake because the style is too late for the time and area it supposedly came from." Shaking his head, his eyes bright, Potter pushed the bowl across the table to Severus. "Before that, you had me convinced it was real and took a swig of water from it. I was certain you'd turn into a girl. Thank Merlin it's just a harmless drinking bowl. If you want to turn it back, just put your hand on it and think about hiding it. It appears when you think about how much you want to see it."

Simple, old magic. It had to be a few centuries old at least, even if it wasn't from the age of Étaín. Severus placed his hand on the bowl and wished for it to be hidden. A flash of light, and his hand now rested upon the black book.

"You stole that," said Potter as he leant forward against the table. "Took you a week before you found the way for it to reveal itself. You nearly went mad trying to work it out. You believed it was a book full of dark spells, and were using all these really complicated methods to break through the enchantment. Just when you were ready to give up, you figured it out. I think the person who made it was forging lots of items and he'd charm them to look like books so they could be smuggled out and resold in their transformed states."

"That's the only one like that." Potter nodded toward the book. "Everything else unusual is potions ingredients or books. He never had money. His mother lives off his father's life insurance. We think he stole most of what little money he had from Muggles, although he may have sold potions too."

Potter gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe, but I doubt it. It required a lot of time. In the beginning, he needed to go to a hospital, select a patient, get a blood sample, tailor his poison to the patient, and deliver it. His victims were random, no connection between them, and he went after people who were sick and dying. He'd pick a place, kill until the statistics became worrying to the officials, and then move on to a new location. Later, just about when we'd stepped in, he started killing people at random. He'd figured out how to mass-produce his poison by then. We can find no evidence that he'd ever had any contact with the wizarding world beyond his mum. None." Potter shook his head in disbelief. "He didn't even have a wand."

"No wand?" asked Severus, his eyebrow pricking. Brewing required little wand work, but he had never heard of a wizard without a wand.

"His mum said he never wanted one, so she never took him to Ollivander's. All of his books were written by wizards who're now dead, and he collected his potions ingredients by hand. He never used a single wizarding ingredient. Most of what we found in the vials were potions developed by him. He had potions books, so he knew how most wizards brew, but he preferred to brew without interacting with the wizarding world at all."

Severus could not believe it. He could not think of a single potion that could be brewed with Muggle items alone. "No wizarding ingredients at all? You are certain?"

"None. That's how we caught him." Potter pushed himself away from the table. "Once you figured out what was in the potion, which took forever to deconstruct because we thought we were dealing with a normal Potions Master, we knew we weren't dealing with a typical wizard. I thought perhaps we were up against a person who didn't know of the wizarding world. But when I checked the records for wizards who were registered but had never shown up at Hogwarts, I came across his name. Once I realised he'd never had any contact with the wizarding world at all, we made him our prime suspect."

"You said he's dead. I examined his body. Didn't I collapse months after he died?"

Nodding, Potter said, "Yes, but I have two theories. First, one of his artefacts that you stole was booby trapped and its effect time delayed. He had nasty traps all over the house. It took you forever to clear the lab and make it safe enough for the Ministry officials to come in and clear the rest of the traps. The only reason no one else died is because the Ministry treated every single inch of the house as dangerous.

"My other theory is that it was a fake body. What if he grew another body for himself? I know it sounds mad, but I never would've believed that a wizard could brew with only Muggle ingredients if I hadn't seen it myself." Potter shook his head.

Neither would Severus. What potions had Endell managed to brew? How had he learnt to experiment safely without a wand to cast protection spells?

Potter continued, "The body we have is still at the Ministry, and I've already had it tested for every form of disguise or any evidence that it was brewed. No luck. If it is a fake, it's a damned good one. I figured you'll be able to tell for sure. When you decide you want to go to the Ministry, let me know and I'll take you."

Yes, he would take Potter up on that invitation, but later, once he'd had time to conduct more research. He had never heard of a spell or potion to create a replica of a body either, but it was probably possible. There were few things that magic couldn't do if a wizard had enough time, resources, and creativity.

Once they had sorted through the items in the house, they transported everything back to their guest house. Potter refused to keep the items in the lab. He said he did not want another repeat of Severus's illness, and the tower was off limits as well, due to the fact it seemed to have protective powers. Severus preferred to examine the items in his lab, but he allowed them to be stored in the guest house in deference to Potter's paranoia. It was rare for him to come across an individual more paranoid than himself without being completely mental, and Potter had always exhibited a profound lack of paranoia before. To find their roles reversed amused him.

"It's good to have you two back!" he said, coming to the very front of the portrait and waving. "Of all the places I've been, people I've lived with, you two are the most entertaining. Never a dull evening around here!" he said with a huge grin.

Kreacher glared at Severus while he served the food and muttered loudly about what a cruel man Severus was to his 'poor Master Harry who suffers so much'.

"Don't mind him," said Potter once he was gone. "He's been holding a grudge since you banned him from entering the laboratories, the indoor gardens, and your bedroom. He was banned from the tower as well. It didn't help that you refused to eat his cooking for the first few months we lived together."

"He is banned from the bedroom?" asked Severus. Someone had made the bed and set out fresh towels.

"Not our bedroom," corrected Potter. "When you first moved in here, we had separate bedrooms on opposite ends of the house since we couldn't stand each other. We started sharing a bedroom a year or so ago."

He enjoyed his personal space and could not imagine what would have prompted him to voluntarily give up his quarters to share one. Sex was the only motivator of which he could think, and that was one he did not want to associate with Potter.

"Do you," asked Potter after a bit, "want me to leave copies of all the scrolls I've compiled and haven't yet given you here or beside the items in the guest house?"

"Here." He had already brought the ones Potter had given him earlier to his desk in the library. He would bring everything from the tower after dinner. The tower did not feel like an extension of his life the way this house did. Although it had his furniture, books, robes, and other items, it was gaudy and unguarded with too many windows. His bedroom felt more like home, even with Potter's additions.

As if using Legilimency, Potter said, "If you intend to use the desk in your library as your primary one, we should move everything from the tower. I can ask Kreacher to put your belongings wherever you want."

10:13 PM

It wasn't difficult to move the items from the tower to the library. With magic and guidance spells, he was able to send all the books to the library, the scrolls to his desk, the robes to his cupboard, and the toiletries to his bathroom. He left the chess set and the vial of memories along with the photobook. It did not matter to him what had happened before between himself and Potter. That was the past, and he refused to repeat it.

After he had removed everything of importance, he sprayed the room with a mixture of his blood and water, searching for any hidden artefacts. As the last one had been placed under his desk, he began his search around it. After coating the outside surface and finding nothing, he opened a drawer and sprayed the top, only to see a faint glow appear on a small section of the top. Blood magic. He pricked his finger and rubbed the blood against the wood. With a snap, a small plank fell down, and a folded piece of parchment fell out. About the size of Severus's little finger, it had been folded several times to fit into the tiny opening.

Unfolding the parchment, Severus read, "The truth—it is unutterable." On the other side, a series of numbers followed: 11-3-20-20-14-2-3-4-11-9-7-21-14-5-12-15-1-4-17-10-11-3-6-14-5-12-16-9-9-19.

That the numbers represented letters was easy enough to ascertain, but he could not be certain about anything else. He had left this message for himself, hidden and inaccessible to anyone else. To crack the code, he would need to rely on something else that he, and only he, knew.

Glancing around the room, Severus's eyes fell on the book of poetry on his bedside table. Poetry would be a perfect place to hide codes. Each line was numbered, and the letters of the line could correspond to numbers as well. Grabbing the poetry book, he hauled it over to the desk and flipped through the pages. He began with "Invictus," his favourite poem, but could not discern any patterns. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, his favourite author, had no references to the unutterable. The only truth reference Severus could find was in "Christabel," with the lines, "Alas! they had been friends in youth; / But whispering tongues can poison truth; / And constancy lives in realms above; / And life is thorny; and youth is vain; / And to be wroth with one we love, / Doth work like madness in the brain." Was it supposed to be some sort of warning about being angry at Potter? But Potter was not the one he loved. Not now.

After copying the poem to a scroll, he tried to place a letter to each number. After several hours, he had tried every single trick he could think of, and nothing made sense. "Christabel" was not the poem he needed—if it even was a poem he needed.

Tucking the parchment into his robes, Severus searched the rest of the room, but the small note was the only hidden artefact he could find.

Sunday, 23 May, 1:00 PM

The swish of the Floo matched the tone of the monitoring charm Severus had placed upon it. Hidden in the foyer, he waited until their footsteps retreated down the hall before he followed.

For four days, Severus had been content to pour himself into uncovering the mysteries of his past. Even if he discovered exactly what had caused his illness and solved all mysteries, there were hundreds of fascinating new books to read, potions discoveries to catch up on, and a brand new, fully-stocked lab to muck about in. True to his word, Potter remained out of his sight, only arriving in the library at seven every night for dinner.

Although they quarrelled on occasion, Potter always backed down before their arguments turned into a full blown fight. Their two hours together each day could hardly be said to entail pleasant companionship, but they weren't as excruciating as Severus had originally imagined them. Potter arrived punctually at seven, never a minute ahead or a minute behind, and never stayed beyond the two hours allotted for their time together.

Was this how their relationship had gone? A regular schedule with certain times to be together and to be apart seemed a rather bizarre way to conduct a relationship, even to Severus, who had no experience in the matter. Even though they did not encounter each other during the day, he knew Potter remained mostly in the house. On the few occasions when he asked Kreacher were Potter was, Kreacher mentioned a room and Severus spied Potter inside, always reading.

This Potter who never left and preferred to sit inside and read was not the Potter he had known. What had caused the boy to change so dramatically since Hogwarts? Was he the same boy?

Severus took to spying. The walls were covered in spells to prevent eavesdropping and surveillance. If Kreacher talked to Potter, Severus could make out their individual voices and identify who was in the room, but he could not distinguish individual words in the conversation. Monitoring spells did not work for the most part except by the Floo, and Severus was not stupid enough to try and place a tracking spell on an Auror. He hadn't Potter's Invisibility Cloak and he dared not steal it while Potter remained Master of the Elder Wand, the account of which he had read in back issues of the Prophet. But he had years of experience, potions, spells and charmed clothing that allowed him to blend into his surroundings. Any experienced wizard could cast detection charms and other counter measures, but Potter, either from lack of knowledge or belief in the sanctity of his home, never cast anything to harm Severus's disguises.

Where Potter slept was the first mystery solved. It was in the room next to the master bedroom, a smaller version of the master decorated in cheery pastels of creams, cornflower blue, and spring green. Paintings of blooming flowers hung on the walls and filled the room with the floral scent of springtime in the country. The white curtains remained pulled back from the windows, letting in an unnatural amount of bright sunlight during the day. At night, Potter opened the windows and slept on his side, curled in a ball with a pillow clutched in his arms, his upper body bare and his lower body hidden beneath the sheets. He did not stir even when Severus collected hair, blood, saliva and skin samples. Potter's deathly sleep would have alarmed him, had he not detected sleeping potions on the boy's breath and in the vials on the bedside table.

In the potions lab, Severus confirmed that the boy had been drugging himself with sleeping potions. If his hair samples were accurate, it was a recent development, occurring within the past three months or so. Aside from the sleeping potions, Potter appeared to be a non-Polujuiced, normal, healthy young man. His blood showed high levels of cortisol, but stress was to be expected in times like these.

Despite all the differences Severus noticed, this was Potter. A very changed Potter, but Potter nonetheless.

His own tests were even less illuminating. His hair sample held sedatives as well, but not nearly to the degree Potter's did. He'd taken Polyjuice before he'd taken ill, but never afterward. The period he judged to be the extent of his illness held remarkably little potion information and none on the cure. It was not wholly unexpected, as a great deal of potion ingredients were flushed from the body after use. Still, he had hoped to find at least a few answers in his hair or blood, but nothing could be detected. He was healthy as well, although his hair showed signs he'd been nutritionally stressed towards the end of his illness–underfed and without the necessary nutrients.

There was also a slight oddity in that, after he conducted a series of blood tests on himself, the traces remaining in the bottom of the cauldron glowed with faint bioluminescence due to the Armillaria. It was an effect he had never seen before when testing samples, but it appeared to be a property of the ingredient rather than his blood.

Even with his tests confirming that Potter was Potter, Severus had been a spy for too long to take anything claimed as fact without a thorough investigation. After the night of the testing, he decided to follow Potter around and see what exactly the boy did when they weren't together.

Potter's day began in the typical way. He woke with a lot of stretching, knocking the sheets to the side and revealing he slept in the nude. He wasn't as hairy as Severus had expected, a small diamond dusting in a triangle on his wide chest and a darker, trimmed nest around his flaccid penis and heavy balls. He staggered to the loo, scratching his arse, and shut the door behind him. After a long shower, he emerged naked and scrubbing his hair dry. For a moment, he stood in the centre of the room, oblivious to Severus's gaze.

A scrawny, almost sickly boy at Hogwarts and when Severus had observed him in the forest, his body had changed dramatically in six years. Wide shoulders gave way to strong arms and a flat stomach with well-defined abs. The only bit of fat on his body appeared to be his round, hairless buttocks above well-sculpted thighs. Even with all his muscular strength, he still remained slender and lean, traces of boyhood still lingering in his trim waist. He could serve as a model for a sculpture of Antinous, Emperor Hadrian's lover.

Was that why he had taken up with Potter? Had he been trying to fashion himself after Hadrian, Alexander the Great, or other well-known Greek and Roman emperors famous for their dalliances with young male consorts? It was the only explanation that made any sort of sense to him. Even then, if he were to pick a young man to mould and influence, Potter was not an obvious first choice.

Potter strode straight past Severus to the wardrobe. Emerging dressed in khaki trousers and a powder blue shirt, he returned to the bathroom to finish his morning ablutions before he left for the kitchen for breakfast. Morning was spent reading in the den where he also took lunch.

It wasn't until one, when the visitor arrived through the Floo, that Severus's day became intriguing. He followed them to the patio on the east side of the house. There, through the windows, he spied Lupin joining Potter at a table set for tea. There was no way Severus could listen in on their conversation from his vantage point and both men were facing away, preventing him from reading their lips. If he wanted to know what they were saying, he would have to join them.

Removing a scroll from his robes, he marched through the door, knocking it open with a loud bang.

"Hello, Severus. It's good to see you," Lupin said with an easy smile. "Would you like to join us for tea?"

The werewolf always acted as if he were on friendly terms with Severus. Even at Hogwarts he had pretended that he didn't care for what his despicable friends did. Severus knew better.

Potter interrupted before Severus had a chance to speak. "D'you need something?"

What a rude child. Potter did not want him there. Why? "I would like a list of all the Potions Masters with whom I was in contact these past six years," Severus said sharply.

Nodding tightly, Severus swept into the chair farthest from both of them. Lupin still wore shaggy, threadbare clothing. After all these years, the wolf still didn't know how to dress. "What have you done with yourself, Lupin? Have you produced a pack of cubs?"

Lupin returned his teacup to his saucer and looked at Severus evenly. "For the last five years I've been living near Greenhead. I work as an assistant manager in a bookshop in a Muggle community called Haltwhistle." Lupin reached for a biscuit and carefully spread some lemon curd on top. "I live by myself, Tonks and I aren't married. In fact, she's married to the head of the Auror Department, and they're expecting a child soon. She's quite happy." Lupin gave Severus another smile as if he didn't mind at all.

Severus could not have been more pleased to learn that Tonks had left him for another man. They were both twits, but anything that hurt Lupin made him happy.

Potter leant forward. "We'd been working on the Wolfsbane Potion for a while and made a few changes to it. After you took ill, I brewed the potion for Remus, but I'm sure he's glad that you're back."

Potter had been making the Wolfsbane? Was Lupin mad? Severus would never accept such a complex potion if Potter were responsible for its creation.

"Yes, I have to say I am relieved that you are feeling better, Severus, no one can brew Wolfsbane quite like you can. The potion I take now isn't as effective and has more side effects than what you made for me."

"What did you expect?" said Severus with a sneer. "You took a potion Potter brewed."

Lupin blinked at Severus's comment, a frown flitting across his face. "Oh, no, Severus, it's not Harry's Wolfsbane that is causing me problems. Harry did a splendid job brewing the potion for me while you were ill. I take the Ministry's version."

"I wasn't able to brew it this past cycle," said Potter, avoiding Severus's face as he selected a biscuit off the tray. "The Ministry uses your old concoction, but they are slow to adapt and haven't tried our newest version yet."

"No worries, Harry. What you and Severus have been going through is of much more importance than making the Wolfsbane for me. The Ministry's version works and I'm able to keep my human mind during the change." Lupin reached for a ham and pickle sandwich and took a bite. "These are quite good. I'll have to give Kreacher my compliments."

Kreacher Apparated in. "Master Harry, your package has arrived." He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

After Potter had left, Lupin said, "Harry's told me that you've lost your memories of the last six years. I can't tell you how sorry I am, Severus. I can't imagine how disrupting that must be for you along with everything that has happened so far." Remus gazed at his hands, which he clasped and unclasped in his lap. He then looked up and added, "I don't often talk about the War, since it's not the most favourite thing that has happened in my life, but if you would like information about it or just want to talk about it at any time, I'll answer any questions you have as best I can."

Severus did want answers, but he doubted he'd obtain them from a decrepit werewolf. Lupin just enjoyed his position of power, the fact that he knew things that Severus didn't. He would not debase himself by allowing the werewolf that triumph over him. "There is nothing I need to ask you," he said, looking down his nose at Lupin. "If I require information, I have plenty of other sources."

Lupin sighed and said, "I know you won't believe me when I tell you this, Severus, but you and Harry do have a relationship, a very intimate one."

Severus scoffed, but Lupin carried on as if he'd not heard. "No one could believe it when it happened, not even me, but after seeing the two of you together, I couldn't deny it any longer. Even though you aren't one to use such a word as 'love', you and Harry were deeply in love. I could see it and so did your friends.

"Harry loves you, Severus. He loves you with a passion that I've rarely seen. You don't remember what it was like between the two of you, but I do. It hurts Harry deeply, the way you treat him now. He's trying very hard to please you and help you. He wants to be with you; couldn't you at least make it easier for him by treating him with a little respect?"

Lupin never could leave things alone. He always had to stick his snout in other people's concerns and talk as if being part canine gave him greater insight into other people's minds. "I've agreed to live with the brat; that is enough. Leave it alone, Lupin. It's not your concern." Severus waved his hand. "Potter is an adult now. If he wishes to waste his life on a non-existent relationship, that is his choice."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Severus." Lupin shook his head. "It is my concern. Harry is a good friend, and you and I had outgrown our childish behaviours to the point of my considering you a friend. I don't like seeing either of you hurting and don't tell me you're not hurting. You're unhappy and you're taking it out on Harry."

What did he know, the arrogant jackass? Severus sat in stony silence and waited for him to finish.

"He has been at your side through all of this, doing everything you asked of him and more. Give him a chance, Severus. The boy you remember from Hogwarts is not the same young man now, you've just said so. It's six years later. Why not try and get to know him again?"

His tone cool and even, Severus said, "I made him bleed. I deliberately injured him and still he wants a relationship with me. What do you think it'll take to drive him away from me? Perhaps I should hold him down and push hellesborne spines into him. They can grow up to six inches long, although most are only three to four. Do you think he'd leave me then? Or has he become a masochist? I wonder how many it would take before he would surrender. I suppose it depends where I stick them."

Rather than letting the comments anger him, Lupin sighed. "Harry knows you're having a difficult time adjusting to the loss of your memories. If you did have them, your memories that is, you would know that Harry is extremely forgiving and that, despite what you think of him, he does love you very much. He's proving it every day in the things he does for you. Harry has also always been very affectionate when you're together. To see him restrain himself to the extent he's doing now, I don't know how he does it." Lupin paused and tilted his head to the side, frowning. "The one thing I'm curious about is—haven't you found Harry the least bit attractive since you've regained some of your health? Not even once? I find it hard to believe that some part of you doesn't remember in some way the relationship the two of you had, even if it's not memories. Maybe just a feeling or a scent. I've always been a bit partial to scents myself." Lupin chuckled.

Severus's eyes narrowed. Potter had been wearing some sort of drug that day in Endell's home and Lupin knew about it. What had they given Potter that'd smelt so damn good? He'd not been able to detect anything in his blood stream. Perhaps it'd dissipated too quickly. After all, he'd lost his attraction to Potter's scent, once he stayed out of close range. It couldn't have been a love potion. Potion-produced pheromones were far more likely, although they'd not been properly developed in 1998. He would need to research the subject in his lab.

"Sorry about that," Potter said as he dropped into his seat. "A few of the books I ordered just arrived, and I had to sign for them since several are highly restricted."

"Oh yes, before I forget." Lupin reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small package. Setting the package on the table, he pulled out his wand and tapped the top of it, increasing the size by ten. Putting his wand back in his vest, Remus then passed the wrapped bundle over to Harry. "Here, I brought you some books from the shop that I thought you might find interesting. They weren't easy to get, but my manager has a knack for finding books that are difficult to acquire. Makes the shop a very interesting place to work in, with all the obscure books that pass through." Remus's eyes shone.

Potter smiled, a genuine one, and said, "Thank you very much. I can't wait to read them."

They were in cahoots, and Severus would get nowhere wasting time with them. Who knew what was in those books? He stood and left, heading straight to his lab. He would not be controlled by the werewolf and a child young enough to be his son.

Friday, 4 June, 9:43 PM

Pushing open the heavy doors, Severus sucked in huge lungfulls of fresh air. The glass doors shut out the ruckus of the party. A peacock was screeching off in the distance, but otherwise the night landscape around Malfoy Manor was in a state of peaceful quiet.

He'd never expected to attend an event worse than a Death Eater gathering. At least with the Death Eaters, he'd known where they stood, how they would act, and how he could best manipulate the scene.

Here he didn't know how to deal with Weasleys and Malfoys at the same event. Of course, the two families avoided each other. Each pretended the other didn't exist; however, there were many who moved between the families, conversing with members of each. Unlike during Horace's parties at Hogwarts, the Houses mixed beyond the routine greetings and necessary conversation. Draco and Potter were chatting on a sofa while the hors d'oeuvres floated around the room on silver salvers. Lucius, Kingsley, and Williamson gathered near the bar, discussing business and politics with men Severus didn't recognise. A group of young women representing every House stood in one corner, giggling and casting eyes on the single men.

Everyone at the party, all four Houses, expressed delight to see Severus in attendance. It had been impossible to escape the crush of attention at first; almost everyone wanted to shake his hand and speak with him.

He had always wanted recognition and fame, but the constant parade of handshakes and well-wishes from hundreds of individuals—many of whom he didn't even recognise—quickly grew dull. As soon as he had the opportunity to escape out onto one of the many balconies, he slipped away.

Of course, the perfect quiet didn't last long. The doors opened of their own accord and Narcissa glided through.

"Severus," she said with a nod as ribbons wove through her hair. "Forgive me for not calling earlier, I assumed you were busy."

Or she wanted to wait until she could be associated with his unveiling at a party few would ever forget. Not that he minded—the more he helped her, the more she would help him. Severus allowed a small smile to grace his lips and said, "My work has consumed my attention; however, I always have time for friends."

Smiling, she swept over to join Severus at the railing. Silken shades of blues and greens cascaded down her shoulders, over her breasts, picking up colour and speed as they flowed down her body, puddling in a dark blue around her feet. "How have you progressed in your hunt for knowledge?"

Turning back to the railing, he took of a sip of scotch before he replied, "Fairly well. I've decided to explore all theories regarding my illness, which has slowed my investigation somewhat."

"Mmm," she hummed, staring at him over the rim of her champagne flute. "I've heard a few theories myself. Some believe it was an accident, while others think it was an attack on you or Harry."

Potter? It was such a new idea to him that he couldn't help but ask. Besides, she would love knowing that she knew things he didn't. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, "An attack on Potter?"

Her smile widened, and she bent her head towards Severus as if about to share a secret. "Mr. Potter is quite effective as an Auror—no doubt due to your aid. Not many outside of the inner circle are aware of your role in his Auror investigations, only that you and he jointly own a potions company."

"Of the potion crimes," she clarified, shaking her head. "There aren't that many of those; few wizards have your talent."

Such generous helpings of compliments could only mean one thing: Narcissa wanted something. But what? In the past, her family had been her primary concern and focus, but now she and her family members chatted casually with the boy who could give them the affection of the wizarding world. Other than potions, there were few things he could provide for her that Potter couldn't.

Narcissa peered at Severus as if she could practice Legilimency without needing eye contact. "You've always had a legal 'elasticity' when offering your wares. Many who would otherwise be hostile to your alliance with Harry have found you to be generous." Her small smile widened, and she added, "Within reason, of course. Harry overlooks some of your ... trespasses, but he has always remained a Gryffindor."

"Quite," sneered Severus, glancing back through the glass doors at the people inside. The Weasley chit had draped herself over Potter's arm as he stood, conversing with Astoria Greengrass. If Astoria hadn't changed since Hogwarts, she was a social climber who hoped to land herself a rich husband with the expressed goal of increasing and spending his wealth.

"I imagine," said Narcissa, shifting to stand close to him, "that must have been the most difficult part to accept."

Glancing at her, Severus searched her face to gauge her reaction, but the lack of disgust in her eyes or lips suggested she did not disapprove. How could she not find his actions abhorrent? She had a son Potter's age!

Lifting his eyebrows, he asked her, "You see nothing wrong with me buggering the boy?" Although he knew he was crossing a line, he added with a slight sneer, "Shall I date his classmates as well? Perhaps my new companion will be a Slytherin."

A well-plucked eyebrow arched. She smiled, and he braced for her attack. Raising her glass up to sip from it, she said in a warm voice, "My, Severus, you have always been quite ambitious. I must admit, I thought you were over-reaching yourself with Harry, but you proved me wrong. Perhaps you could find another lover equivalent to or better than Harry. You must tell me your secret. I’m sure my son could learn a few tricks from you."

Trust Narcissa to deflate his ego. He'd never thought himself handsome, but she was right; he did not have much to offer a prospective partner. Ugly and poor were not two combinations that went well together, especially when the individual in question had a criminal record. Although he was highly intelligent, too few viewed intelligence as an important attribute for a mate. He could not be more opposite from Potter. The wealthy, powerful bachelor had no trouble attracting beautiful women and handsome men.

Although Severus still had no good reason for why he'd chosen to fixate on the boy, the even greater mystery was why the hero of the wizarding world had chosen him. Of all the possible partners for Potter to choose, an ugly, scarred Death Eater old enough to be his father had to be at the bottom of that list. Even without the complications of their past history, they had nothing in common, no reason what-so-ever to form a relationship.

Unless the boy was a masochist. Severus repressed a shudder. Sex with Potter was a vile thing to think about.

Narcissa sipped her champagne, watching Severus with the perfect expression of feminine innocence and warmth. Rather than attempt a counter-parry, Severus admitted defeat. For now. Later, when he knew more about this future world, he would give her the insult she waited for with a guiltless smile on her face. He shrugged and calmly said, "Gryffindors are easy prey, and I prefer a challenge."

She gave a nod of agreement. "It is amusing to play with them. It surprises me that you haven’t played with Harry yet. It’s unlike you to not take advantages of opportunities."

Not her too! If anyone would object to his relationship with Potter, it should have been her. The entire world had turned against him! Severus sniffed as if he had smelt something distasteful, and in a bland voice said, "I'll always turn down a plate of rotting meat, no matter how beautifully it is presented."

Narcissa shook her head and swept to the door. "Do give it a try," she purred as she took her leave. "You're such a bore when you've not had any for a while."

Saturday, 5 June, 8:13 AM

Severus paused on the street, reading the numbers twice to confirm what he already knew. He had arrived at the home of Brigit Endell. After Narcissa's comments at the party, Severus had headed straightaway to the Ministry to call up the list of those who had filed any formal legal complaints against Potter. Although they still had not received permission for Severus to examine Endell's corpse, the friendly witch in Records had handed him a huge scroll without question.

While most of the complaints referred to frivolous offences committed during Hogwarts, false atrocities added by Death Eaters during the period when the Ministry was under the Dark Lord's control, or the imaginings of nuts such as the witch who'd accused Potter of turning into a hedgehog and rooting through her garden, there were a few notations that caught Severus's eye, including the name of Brigit Endell, the poisoner's mother. She had filed a harassment complaint against Potter earlier in the year, on the fourteenth of January. As Potter had not mentioned the woman in any capacity other than her relationship to her son, Severus had come to visit her to see why Potter had harassed her.

She lived in the same place Corey Endell had been born, the only place she'd ever lived outside of Hogwarts and her parents' home. About fifteen miles south of Corey's home in Stockport, her small, but well-kept bungalow sat in Macclesfield, Cheshire.

Unlike the rest of the bungalows on the street, Mrs. Endell's door was of solid, white-painted wood as if someone had forgot to carve the windows. Suspecting that magic hid the glass, Severus rapped his knuckles on the wood nearest to the doorknob.

After a few seconds, a high voice called, "Who is it?" from behind the closed door.

"Jonathan Evans," answered Severus, holding up the forged identification that labelled him a claim investigator from the Ministry of Magic in case she was using a spell to observe him. The picture on the scroll matched the Polyjuiced face he wore. "I’m here to investigate the complaint you filed against a Mr Harry Potter."

"I filed that in January," she said through the door in a voice thick with asperity. "Why wait until now?"

The door swung open, revealing a small, thin woman with fly-away, chestnut-coloured hair that was liberally sprinkled with grey strands, and tired, dark blue eyes. Although she was only fifty-six, deep wrinkles etched in her skin gave her the appearance of a permanent frown. The faded, floral-print dress didn’t help the matter. It hung off her pale, freckle-spotted skin, while her spindly arms and legs protruded from the fabric like stork legs.

She looked him over with an eye that seemed determined to find no favour. Pressing her thin lips together, she motioned for him to enter. "Come in." Turning, she shuffled to a well-worn armchair in her sitting room.

He stepped in, and the sharp smell of Muggle cleaning products mixed with warm, dusty air hit his nostrils. The sparse furniture looked as though it had been purchased when Endell had been born. Although there were no rips, tears, stains or broken pieces, all the colours were faded until they were faint memories of what they had once been. Previously bright and colourful, they were now as sad and worn as the woman he had come to see. The thin and faded draperies covering the windows were no better, although he could see patches of colour tucked the behind parts that were folded, as if the fabric hadn't moved in years. The fireplace mantle held only photos taken with a Muggle camera of someone Severus assumed to be a young Corey Endell. Next to the sagging sofa sat a small television on an equally small table.

Brigit poured and prepared her tea without a wand or offering Severus any, her eyes never leaving his face. Although she had the general appearance of one so frail and tired she might fall asleep at any moment, there was something sharp in her eyes, the only bit of colour in the room that hadn’t faded.

Severus took the sofa, the only place in the small room for him to sit. "I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to release any details pertaining to an ongoing investigation, Mrs. Endell. All I can say at this moment is that the Ministry is investigating accusations of harassment committed during an investigation." Removing a scroll from his robes, he read the information he had written earlier. "You filed a complaint on the fourteenth of January earlier this year. In the complaint, you stated that Mr. Potter repeatedly visited your door with demands for information, even after the case concerning your son had been closed. You say that his refusal to release your son’s body for burial was another form of harassment, as well as the Aurors placed outside your home."

"My son is dead," she said, the lines around her eyes growing even tighter and deeper, her thin lips pinching together further. "He paid the punishment for his crimes, as did I. Isn't that enough?" she spat, giving Severus a sharp look. "Why must I be harassed by that arrogant bully with far too much power and too little sense?"

So, another person who found Potter arrogant. He had hoped to find someone who agreed with him on the matter, but she wasn’t what Severus had expected in a potential ally. "Have have any idea what he hopes to gain by his investigation of you?"

Her smile didn’t reach her impenetrable eyes. "A cure for his sick boyfriend. He’ll die if he hasn’t already."

The certainty with which she said it gave Severus pause. How could she be so sure? She appeared weak and frail, but Severus knew not to trust appearances, and this woman had raised one of the cleverest wizards he had ever encountered. He dared not try Legilimency or confusion tricks with her—not until he had some way to measure her reflexes and grasp of magic. If Potter hadn’t been able to satisfactorily draw answers from her with all his Aurors and money, then she had to be fairly formidable. There was nothing he could do but ask. "Why do you think he'll die?"

"It'll teach him the very type of lesson he needs to learn," she said, raising her chin. "Let him experience the death of a loved one." Her eyes scanned Severus's face as if she were waiting for him to challenge her.

He was tempted to point out that Potter already had—many times. If anyone knew the pain of losing a loved one, it was Potter. However, her Muggle appliances, her lack of wand usage and her faded home suggested she had disengaged herself from the wizarding world almost as much as her son. He finished the interview, thanked her, and left.

On the road in front of her home, he glanced around for any witnesses to his Disapparition, but not before he spotted her watching him through the window. Her eyes never wavered from him as he vanished from sight.

Wednesday, 16 June, 3:00 PM

Severus sat staring at the small wooden box. It had been a month since he had found it hidden in the tiles under his desk and he had yet to figure out how to open it. He'd tried blood magic, passwords, spells, potions, and brute force. It wasn't the only area where he had failed to make any progress. The numeric code couldn't be cracked even though he had gone through Shakespeare, Milton, Blake, Wordsworth, Clare, Keats, Tennyson, Kipling, and Wilde. He was beginning to suspect that the key couldn't be found in poetry, but the phrase, 'The truth—it is unutterable' was too vague to know give any indication where to look.

A thorough search of the house had revealed Potter's porn stash, a large safe with copies of identity, property and business documentation, Kreacher's secret store of rubbish, but nothing that could give him a clue toward solving the mystery of his illness or his abnormal recovery.

Endell's notes were equally worthless in that respect. Although fascinating to read from a theoretical perspective, most of his potions had been inferior to potions using wizarding ingredients. The poison was the only potion of note, and that had taken him years to develop, at least twenty from Severus's calculations. Why Endell had insisted on using only Muggle ingredients escaped him as well. A man of such genius and cunning could have revolutionised the field of brewing. If he hated the wizarding world, why kill just Muggles? Perhaps Endell had viewed them only as good subjects for experiments, a more advanced version of rhesus macaques.

The door to the potions lab opened. Severus shoved the box in his sleeve, gripped his wand, and sneaked over to peer through the open crack in the office door, using a conjured mirror.

Potter was in his lab. The boy meandered down the aisles, heading towards a wall stocked full of ingredients. As Severus watched from his concealed spot in the office, Potter selected jars from the shelves and carried them over to a far workbench. The distance from the office to the end of the lab with the fire pits was too far for him to be able to make out what the boy was doing, even if Potter's back hadn't been turned towards the door. After a few minutes, the heavy thunk of a knife falling against a cutting board alerted Severus to the fact that Potter was preparing to brew a potion, but there was no way to guess which one it was.

As much as he wanted to stay hidden behind the door, the need to prevent the fool from blowing up the lab compelled Severus to step out. Quietly, swiftly, he moved through the door, pushing it open only enough to pass through, but the slight movement turned Potter's head.

"Oh!" said Potter, his hand pausing over the chopping board. "I didn't realise you were here. I'll be finished soon. I'm brewing a commission for Neville—our own blend of tessaricarpa fertiliser. When we feed them this, they bloom twice as big." He turned back to finish his chopping.

Severus had no idea what tessaricarpa was, much less what could be used as fertiliser for it. He covered up his ignorance with disdain. "You'd better not attribute any part of that concoction to me."

"I won't," promised Potter as he dumped the contents on his cutting board into a cauldron. "Speaking of plants-" Potter glanced over at Severus as he placed the cutting board back on the workbench. "-I was in our greenhouse today, and I noticed that it's about time for our Dipterocarps to be masting. We should probably get on that if we intend to collect this cycle."

Severus did not know what the bloody hell Potter was on about, so he adopted a more neutral expression. "I see."

"I figure...." said Potter, leaning forward to focus on his work. He had somehow learnt to dice the thrombera roots instead of mangling them and now lowered the knife with an almost ritual precision. "....that you have been too busy to bother with managing the microclimates and I don't know enough about it to do it myself. We had Neville consult on setting them up, and I'm sure he'll be happy to get them back in order while you spend your time on more important things. He'll not be able to start until after the Hogwarts staff go on holiday since he's training under Professor Sprout, but that's not too far away." Potter sprinkled Doxy wings on the potion and stirred the mixture.

Microclimates! Why hadn't he thought of that before? It was ingenious. Provided you understood the native environment, you could grow a plant anywhere in the world as long as the right microclimate was maintained. Herbology had never been a focus of his, but he knew it was typical to use potions and spells to make up for whatever the plant lacked in its transplanted environment. With microclimates, there would be less of a need to feed the flora potions that could alter the composition of the plants.

Without the Dark Lord's shadow hanging over him, Severus had become quite the inventor. Watching Potter to try to catch him in a mistake, Severus said, "Hire Longbottom. I have neither the time nor the inclination to bother with the greenhouse now." Once he learnt more about microclimates and the species of plants they kept, then he would manage the greenhouse.

Without any knowledge of how the fertilizer worked, Severus was forced to do nothing more than glower at Potter while the boy finished his recipe without a single mistake in basic ingredient preparation. He even properly stripped the kappa eyes without damaging the lens. Severus knew he had the ability to teach Potions remarkably well, but he'd never imagined that he could have taught a dunderhead like Potter to become so proficient in the art of brewing. The boy was far from perfect. His Niffler Berry extraction technique left a fair amount of juice in the berries, and his dicing was still a bit haphazard, but none of his errors were ones that would ruin the potion. Severus had been hoping he'd catch Potter in a mistake and be able to pounce on it, but the disappointment at the lack of an opportunity for snarking soon faded.

Six years had always seemed to be an extraordinarily long time ever since he had awoke. Now, as he watched Potter use Pele's Tears to manipulate the heat of the cauldron, six years didn't seem nearly long enough for Potter to have learnt the intricacies and delicacies of potion making that he now saw him demonstrate. But even more amazing than how quickly he had trained the boy, was the knowledge that Potter had bothered to learn. Severus knew he could have properly taught Potter at Hogwarts if the boy hadn't been such an arrogant prick who refused to follow simple instructions. Potter had said they'd hated each other in the early years, but it appeared he'd still behaved himself long enough for Severus to tolerate him in the lab, much less teach him. What had happened over the years to turn the arrogant boy into the perfect student?

After Potter had bottled his potion, he turned, gave a smile, and said, "I'll see you at dinner," then left.

Although Potter had scrubbed out the cauldron and cleaned the workspace, Severus was determined to sanitise everything the brat had touched. Only when he was sure that Potter had not contaminated the cauldron, he left the lab to head to the library. He would not tolerate Potter knowing more than him. He would read every book on microclimates the library had.

Phineas and Paracelsus both returned to their portraits once they saw Severus sit at his desk.

It was a shame portraits could only be destroyed, not punished. Although, at the rate Paracelsus bothered him about Potter, he was tempted to tear the canvas apart. In the same tone that had once made a first-year wet himself, Severus hissed, "I fail to see how that is any of your concern."

Paracelsus harrumphed. "You've been in a right mood since you've returned. It's been too long since you've slept with Harry."

"Severus," said Phineas, cutting off Severus's retort before he could begin, "it is unlike you to alienate your greatest ally. Does the boy not have the ear of everyone important in the Ministry? Can he not obtain nearly anything you desire? If you continue down this path, you'll lose him, and you'll not be able to brew even half of your favourite potions. Do you think that you have permission to obtain restricted ingredients?"

A true Slytherin, Phineas understood the heart of the matter. "If I can obtain those benefits without...." Severus sneered. "...doing anything with Potter, then I see no reason to change that. Of course, he'll tire eventually and by then, I'll have full control of my assets and enough understanding of this time to no longer require his aid. Brewing is not my only passion. I've always wanted to travel, and I intend to do so."

Phineas snorted. "You may—for a short while. But, you've always attached yourself to powerful wizards. I doubt that has changed."

"I've changed." Severus flicked his wand, creating a bubble of silence around his desk.

Monday, 5 July, 6:30 PM

Severus bottled and stoppered the vial, then set it on the shelf along with the others. That was the last. He had finished brewing each of the potions he had found in Endell's notes, including a generic version of the poison. Although he'd not made any progress in solving the mystery, replicating Endell's work had been a fascinating experience and he wanted to try brewing with more Muggle chemicals. He would have to order some.

So far, Potter hadn't asked him to contribute to the household bills, even though it had been almost two months since he had awoke. He was more than happy to spend all his time researching, but he knew that more research would require money, and Potter, wealthy though he might be, would not be able to support the lab all on his own. He needed to help Potter earn money.

The commissions were found on Potter's desk along with the cost and selling prices. Potter had only picked up seven and, although Severus did not recognise a few of the potions by name, each ingredient and amount was tabulated in the cost. His own lab notes contained the missing necessary details, and he set up the lab to brew.

He was halfway through the Barbudalus Potion when Potter arrived. The Auror robes had already been replaced with a tight sea-green T-shirt and blue jeans.

"Let me know when you're finished," he said from the doorway. "I have a list of commissions I need to brew."

"Really?" Potter's voice rose in surprise as he entered the room. "You're not required to if you don't want to."

Arching an eyebrow at him, Severus said, "And let you ruin the reputation of our company? I think not."

Potter grinned. "Just tell me what you want me to do." He swept across the room, joining Severus at the worktable.

Severus paused. There was that scent again. It was the same intoxicating scent from Endell's lab. The one Lupin had known about.

One hand captured Potter's wrist, slamming it against the table, the other gripped Potter's neck. Severus leant inwards, using his weight to force Potter to bend backwards over the worktable. Potter stared up at Severus but made no move to escape. "What-?" he gasped out.

Severus leant on his captive, pinning him in place. He growled, "That scent. What is it?"

Eyebrows darting together, Potter frowned. "My cologne? You always liked it before."

Cologne? No cologne could smell that damn good. He wanted to bury his nose in Potter's stupid hair. He wanted to hold the boy tight against his body and just breathe him in. He squeezed harder. "Where did you get it?"

Limp against the table, Potter said, "You gave it to me for my birthday two years ago. I don't know where you bought it." His eyes grew wide and brightened, the green even more vivid than usual. Even with Severus's hand still clamped over his neck, a huge smile appeared on his face. "You like it, don't you? You remember it!" Spreading his legs, he ground his groin up against Severus's, his erection hard enough to be felt through Severus's many layers of cloth.

The feel of it sent heat bursting through Severus's body like molten lava and swept away his control. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He needed to escape. He needed to get away from that seductive scent. He released his grip and stumbled backwards.

Like a Muggle mouse trap, Potter shot up and snapped his legs and arms around Severus, yanking him back against him. Gasping, Severus shot out his hands to catch himself. When did the boy get so bloody strong?

"Fuck, Severus," Potter moaned, his hands clawing over and down Severus's chest. "I want you so bad."

Frozen in place, caught off guard by a situation he had never, ever, envisioned, Severus could do nothing but growl, "Potter-"

"I want to suck you," said Potter, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glazed, his legs tight around Severus. "Just- Let me taste you. It's been so long."

Trying to catch his breath, Severus shoved him back against the table, grinding him into the marble. Merlin, he smelt so fucking good! Leaning forward to get a huge whiff, he hissed, "You freak."

Even though Severus had Potter’s shoulders pinned, hot fingers stroked his abdomen. He could feel Potter's hands moving lower. Before Severus could stop him, Potter's hand rubbed firmly over his covered dick. It had been years since he'd felt another hand stroke his cock—even through his clothes—and all conscious thought fled for a moment. His cock and Potter's hand were the only things left in existence. He barely stifled a groan as it tried to escape his lips. As much as he tried to stop it, his cock burst to life, filling at the warmth of Potter's hand.

"Please. Please. Let me suck you," Potter was begging, writhing on the table. "I need it."

Severus punched him. His aim off due to the odd angle, his fist only glanced Potter's left cheek, but it was enough for Potter to release him. Severus flew to the other end of the lab and straightened his clothes, his fingers shaking as he shoved a button back into its hole.

Potter lay sprawled out on the table, facing away from him. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low. "I shouldn't have done that."

"You are a sick, filthy child!" spat Severus before he stormed out of the lab and strode to his room. Once the doors were shut and wards erected, when he was sure he couldn't possibly be interrupted, he locked himself in the bathroom and pulled out his dick. He was only erect because another person had touched him. He only wrapped his hand around his thick length and wanked himself furiously because he'd not masturbated since he'd woke almost two months before. When he came with a groan, the pleasure overwhelming his body and consciousness, Potter wasn't the reason for it at all.

7:27 PM

At dinner, Potter acted as if nothing had happened, and Severus, glad to pretend it had never occured, did likewise.

"We receive hundreds of commissions in the post each week," said Potter as he cut into his roast chicken. "Shall I leave them in the office?"

"Yes," agreed Severus in the same neutral tone. "Remove all the potions that are a waste of my time."

Potter shrugged. "In the past we've agreed to brew everything, but charge an exorbitant fee for the simple potions that can be mass produced."

A conspiratorial smile played about Potter's lips. "However much you want. I can show you past prices we've charged, I keep a copy of each of our responses. Most of the time, they refuse to pay, but we have had a few orders at those prices. There's one witch who'll not drink any healing potions but ours. She's mental."

Putting down his fork, Potter leant forward. "I noticed from the new ingredients you purchased that you brewed the poisoner's potions. It's the first time you've done that, you only looked at the theory before. I tried, but I couldn't brew them myself. How did you get the cornflour to mix into his mental acuity potion?"

Severus held back his smile. Despite all the tutoring and improvement, Potter was nowhere near his level. Even with all the additional knowledge, there were still fields where he had Potter outmatched. Letting the pride show in his voice, Severus said, "Simple, you don't add it to the boiling liquid in the cauldron-"

"I know, I mixed it with cool water first. However, cornflour and water creates a non-Newtonian fluid. I can't stir it properly when the viscosity keeps changing."

The almost-eager way Potter discussed potions was not something Severus could have ever imagined before. The years had changed Potter in many ways. Glad to have someone with whom he could share his passion for brewing, Severus set down his utensils. "I'll explain from the beginning."

Saturday 10th July 7:08 AM

Severus stared at his erection. Since the incident in the potions lab, his libido had attacked him with a vengeance. Unlike most people, lust had never controlled him. He had seen too many classmates do stupid things under the influence of their sexual desires and had sworn he would never do the same. Even during his teenage years, when his body had been most disobedient, he'd still controlled and restricted his urges. Even Lily, with all her beauty and charm, had never distracted him from his work once he'd set his mind to it.

Now, he woke every morning with his penis at full-mast. He tried ignoring it, but unlike before, it kept demanding his attention throughout the day. He tried fixing the matter with a quick wank, but, if anything, that made the problem worse. The only consolation was that his revived fifteen-year-old libido did not necessarily react around Potter. Still, too often thoughts about Potter on his knees, begging for cock, filtered through his head. He didn't know of a way to distract himself. His normal method of burying himself in lab work didn’t work at all now.

Perhaps he should run some blood tests. He had already sneaked into Potter's room, found the cologne, and tested it. It did not smell nearly as intoxicating when in the bottle, compared to on Potter's skin. He ran every single test, but it was nothing more than cologne. Still, there were other ways he could have been slipped a lust enhancer. After a wank in the shower (where he thought of everything but Potter), breakfast, and a perusal of the morning's post, Severus made his way to the lab.

Even though Potter visited to help him brew and work on all the simplistic potions Severus refused to make, the lab and the bedroom were the only territories in the house Severus claimed as his own. The tower felt too foreign, and the library held the nosy portraits, both of whom encouraged him to sleep with the boy.

Although Phineas's arguments made sense, Potter, despite how much he had changed, was still Potter.

Besides, there was still the matter of the escort. Busy with the mystery of Endell, Severus had not had nearly enough time or inclination to study the mysteries of Potter, but locating the escort seemed a near impossible task. Magic could not be cast through phone lines and the man refused to give any further information unless pictures and details were e-mailed to him. Severus had learnt that e-mail was a Muggle invention involving computers and something called 'the internet', but after visiting a Muggle internet cafe, he only managed to figure out how to set up an e-mail account.

None of that mattered nearly as much as the more pressing issues at hand. Severus tested himself for any sort of love or lust potion. Several hours worth of work revealed nothing. He had not been drugged. His enhanced lust, his attraction to Potter, was natural.

It made sense. He had fucked the boy in the past, so of course he would have reactions when smelling him or being in close contact with him. As he stared glumly at the result of his latest test, Potter knocked on the door with the same heavy, quick rap of the knuckles he always used.

Severus waved the door open with his wand, his eyes still focused on the results.

Potter remained in the doorway. "I'll be having a few mates over to play Quidditch. I noticed you tossed your charity ball invitation in the rubbish bin."

Apparently, Severus had attended the infernal events in the past, as he had received a lot of invitations. "And?"

"I know you hate them, but we get a lot of potion clients that way. Besides, Ginny is hosting this one, it won't be too bad."

What had Potter ever seen in that slag? "A ball held by a Weasley sounds like my idea of hell."

Potter sighed. "Very well. I'll see you at dinner." He shut the door behind him.

No matter whatever else happened in the day, they spent every dinner with each other. Potter would even arrive from other events, spend the two hours with Severus, then return to his previous obligation. Those dinners were why Severus needed to put a stop to this hormonal nonsense immediately. He was able to control himself in Potter's presence now, but if this were the result of unconscious memories of their past relationship emerging like he suspected, then it would only grow worse with time. Soon he would not be able to sit across the table from Potter without getting an erection and fantasizing various scenarios with the brat.

3:56 PM

Severus added a few more ingredients to his libido-dampening potion. It was almost finished, and soon, he wouldn't have to worry about his old attraction to Potter resurfacing.

Although the potions lab was incredibly well-stocked, it was missing several common, typical herbs. After searching all the storerooms, Severus realised that they were supposed to be gathered fresh from the garden and dried by hand. It was a superior method of brewing, but even at Hogwarts he had relied on dried herbs as a time-saving method.

Setting his cauldron on a low simmer, he was halfway to the door when a thought struck him. He had no idea where the plants were located in the garden. The very garden where Potter and his friends were playing. The garden that was at least half the size of the lake at Hogwarts. He could hunt all day without finding the necessary herbs, and the last thing he wanted to display to Potter and his friends was ignorance.

Desperation to finish the potion warred with his desire to wait until after Potter had left. For several minutes, he stood in his lab, agonizing. No. He would not let Potter scare him from what was rightfully his. Besides, he needed to know what plants were in the garden. He Summoned a quill and clean scroll and marched outside.

The boys were playing over at the farthest end of the garden from the Potions lab. With patience he didn't feel, he walked amongst the rows of plants, writing down each type of flora as he passed it. He occasionally stopped and prodded them as if checking to see if they were still in good condition. It only took a few minutes before the Quidditch players took note and zoomed toward him. He ignored them by pretending to check the conditions on a patch of tendriculos seedlings until Potter hopped off his broom a few yards away, his friends following close behind.

"D'you- need anything?" Potter asked, panting, and Severus allowed himself to look.

They were all shirtless. Potter, Ronald Weasley, Bill Weasley, the twins, and a dark-haired man named Adam whom Severus vaguely remembered from the Malfoy's party. As much as he tried not to stare at Potter's nakedness, it was hard to avoid it. The boy was dripping in sweat, his skin glistening in the sunlight. His torn cargo shorts hung low on his hips, the tops of his pale blue boxers visible. Crimson seared his cheeks and brightened his wet chest.

"No," Severus managed to say, tearing his eyes away from the sweat dripping down Potter's heaving pectorals.

Severus knew that Potter had developed a masculine physique, but contrasted to the other boys, his body was beyond compare. Ronald and Bill both had a bit of pudge around their waists. The twins were thin but rather lanky, as if they were still growing even at their age and heights. Adam had the body of a professional Quidditch player, but he had more bulk than Severus preferred. His chest was too blocky and stout, and his torso lacked the svelte quality of Potter's physique. He stood near Potter and as Severus recalled from the party, he had spent most of the evening in Potter's vicinity. Was he interested in Potter?

"It's good to see you, Professor," said one of the twins, taking a few hesitant steps forward. "We're hoping you'll do some more commissions for us. The products we made with your help were amazing."

The idea that he would ever be responsible for anything in that deplorable shop produced a glare at the twin, but Potter spoke before Severus could.

"We'll be over there." He pointed as if Severus hadn't seen them flying earlier. "If you need anything, or we're in your way, let us know." Licking his lips, he grabbed onto the broom floating above his right shoulder, and pulled himself on top of it, doing a flip to right himself. He soared off, his friends following shortly behind.

Returning to his task, Severus tried to focus. Potter worked as an Auror and in the lab. How on earth had he developed such a perfect specimen of a body? Surely not by playing that stupid game. Was that what he looked like in bed? Sweaty and flushed with his hair tousled and- No. Severus shook his head to clear it. He needed the arousal-dampening potion and fast. If he couldn't find the herbs by the time the sun set, he would order them. It was too dangerous to wait.

7:00 PM

Despite the fact that the game ended at 6:45, Potter arrived at dinner freshly showered and tastefully dressed in trousers and a clean T-shirt. The T-shirt wasn't tight like usual, but Severus couldn't think of anything but the naked torso hidden beneath the cloth. He didn't know why he was so obsessed with seeing Potter shirtless and sweaty again. Even without the libido potion, his groin was quiescent. Yet, throughout the meal, all he wanted to do was march over there, peel the shirt off the boy, and gaze at his chest again.

Oblivious to Severus's lecherous gaze, Potter chatted on about the twins and their desire to hire the two of them for research. "They'll own the rights to the final products," Potter said between bites. He hurried through his food as if he were afraid it would disappear before he had a chance to eat it all. "But we'll get a nice percentage of the profits in addition to our research fees. I know they weren't much in 1998, but they have shops on four continents now, including three in the UK alone. It's just not joke stuff either, although they still do a lot of that. I reviewed their finances before I took out a few personal loans from them, so I know they are good."

Loans? If Potter couldn't pay his debt, it would be drawn from the company fund.

Seeing Severus's dismay, Potter hastened to add, "Don't worry, I made them unofficial to avoid anything happening to our shared account. They won't be paying me, they'll be paying the company. Anything left over after all the company debts are paid is shared between us. I'll use my profits to pay them back."

He had never studied finance, but unless Potter had been very careful, money would be drawn from both their accounts. "How much have you borrowed?"

Potter shrugged and focused on his meal. "It doesn't matter, I hired a lawyer. You've not got to worry about it."

If Potter wouldn't look him in the eyes, he had to worry. "Potter..." he growled, "how much do you owe?"

"With your work as an Auror?" Severus stared down his nose at the boy. "Don't lie to me, Potter. I know the average salary."

Typical. Another wizard who wanted him only for what he could provide. "Brewing contracts that you would not receive without my aid. I don't care how much you've improved, you are not the reason why people want our creations." Severus threw down his serviette and stood. "Of all the people I ever expected to bring me back to life to help them escape from debt, you were the last." He turned on his heel and strode to the door.

"Fuck you!" Potter shoved back his chair and chased after Severus, his trainers pounding against the marble of the library floor. "Why d'you think I went into debt? Who'd you think I spent that money on?"

"Blaming it on me?" Severus slammed open the library doors and marched through. "How typical."

Severus whirled around and shoved his wand into Potter's chest. "It matters that one as powerful as you should never be in debt to anyone. It matters that our fortunes are linked. It matters once you require me to pay it back."

Potter lifted his chin, his eyes firm. "I won't. I can sell my name. It'll take me longer, but I can pay it back."

"You'd love to do that, you attention whore. You might as well sell your body," said Severus, and Potter stiffened, his eyes widening and his grip relaxing enough for Severus to rip his arm away. "It's the only thing you'll ever be good for."

As if someone had pulled a stopper, Potter's face drained of colour. His eyes narrowed and he asked, "How would you know? As far as you know, you've not tried it yet!"

"I don't need to," said Severus coldly, sneering at the boy. "I've seen enough."

"Have you?" Potter's eyes glittered with malice. He reached up and ripped off his shirt, throwing it back over his head. As Severus watched, astonished, he bent down and tore off his shoes, using magic to cut through the laces. He tossed his trainers to the side and dropped his trousers and pants, kicking them away from him. He stood there: naked but for his socks. Severus could do nothing but stare at the exposed flesh, feast his eyes on the body bared before him.

He had seen Potter naked before when he'd spied on him, but it had been in the dark and Potter had been across the room. Outside in the garden, he had been trying to look elsewhere. Now he could see the small hairs surrounding the dark areolas, the moles sprinkled over his stomach, the wide scar that crossed a pectoral. He forced his eyes to remain on Potter's upper body, unwilling to let them drift lower.

Severus lifted his wand and pointed it straight between Potter's eyes. Potter did not even blink. He stared at Severus, his eyes intense and unyielding.

Hurting the boy was not an option. Especially when all that Potter wanted was him. But he could not give in to his unnatural attraction. There was nothing he could do. Keeping his wand fixed on Potter, he lowered it slowly. Potter lowered his head to match the path of the wand although his eyes never left Severus's face. Once he could no longer lower his head and meet Severus's gaze, he sank to the floor, his thigh and calf muscles flexing as he went down on his knees before Severus. Lower and lower he melted until he knelt upon the marble of the hallway floor, his thighs spread, Severus's wand still pointed between his eyes.

The easy submission was more than Severus had ever expected. Watching that powerful body, that epitome of masculine perfection, yield before him was a more satisfying mastery than any Imperius he had ever cast. If he were to pull out his cock, Potter would suck it. If he ordered him to bend over, he could fuck him.

Was that what he had intended to tell himself with the password to his safe? He had translated On ne connaît que les choses que l'on apprivoise' as 'one only understands the things that one tames'. Was he supposed to tame Potter in order to understand him? Or was it an explanation for why he had tamed the boy? He could now see why such a prospect would appeal to him. The most powerful man in the wizarding world was kneeling before him, naked, ready to do anything and everything he asked.

The hallway, once wide and grand, seemed to close in around him and his breath caught in his throat. He had sworn he would not give in to his libido, not in front of Potter, but with each jagged intake of oxygen, more and more blood pumped into his cock.

Tearing his gaze from Potter's fierce eyes, he glanced downward, only to fixate on the part of Potter's body he had been trying hard to ignore: the thick, hardening cock surrounded by dark curls. It jumped as if acknowledging Severus's attention. The glans still hid beneath the foreskin, even though it was already three times the size it had been while flaccid. What would it feel like in his hand? Was the skin as soft as it looked—softer than his?

He moved before his brain took note of the action, and he found himself standing with his toes between Potter's knees. Potter did not move except for his cock, which twitched and thickened further.

That tangled mess of hair looked so soft. His jaw was strong and firm. His chest, thick and hard, nipples peaked. His face and eyes, flushed with colour.

This was his former student. This boy was young enough to be his son. This was Potter. Potter had a cock as big as his own. Severus lifted his hand.

Potter sucked in a breath, a flash of something igniting in his eyes. Anger? No, lust. His dark red glans strained against the foreskin still covering it, pleading for release. Already, a strand of shiny pre-come stretched from the tip all the way to the floor.

Severus stared at the boy. He wanted him. He hated him. He cuffed him in the head. Twirling on his heel, he turned and left for his room. He expected Potter to chase after him, to grab him, shove him against a wall and demand his cock. No pursuit followed and disappointment settled like weights in his gut and he strode faster. He didn't want Potter. These buried past memories were responsible for it, nothing that he himself wanted.

Why? What was it about the boy that had left him so devoted, and had made him bother to take the time to train Potter in proper brewing? What was it that had compelled them to move in together and share a home—something that he thought he would never do? Potter drove him crazy with his countless irritating habits. He wanted to hit him, not hug him. Yet, even with all his hate for the boy, he could not deny his attraction—the only thing of the past that had remained when everything else had gone. His body remembered Potter, even though his mind did not.

Alone in his room, Severus stripped out of his clothing and sprawled out on the bed. Phineas was right, Potter had become slave-like in his devotion. It would not take much to gain complete control. No harm could come from allowing Potter to suck him off. He didn't even have to touch the boy to get him hard and dripping. Potter wanted him.

The eager little slut was desperate for sex. Severus stroked his hand over his dick. How far would the whore go? What would Potter be willing to do to earn the privilege of sucking his cock?

The boy would have to beg. Crawl on his knees, his dick erect, and beg to taste cock. Beg before he could even see it.

Potter would kneel and open his mouth. He'd order the brat to suck him. The slut's tongue would lick up his shaft, wet, warm and hot. He'd wrap his lips around the head, wetting it with his tongue. He'd dip his tongue in the slit, flicking in and out, licking up every drop that leaked. The whore would tell him how much he missed it and needed it, how grateful he was to be allowed to suck his cock and taste him again. Potter's dick would be dark red and needy, leaking profusely, but Severus wouldn’t allow the whore to touch himself.

Severus stroked himself faster. He'd grab the slut's head in his hands and fuck that mouth until Potter was moaning, ready to come just from sucking him. Then and only then, he'd hold the whore's head still, shoving his cock as far down that throat as he could while he shot his hot load. Potter would gag from his dick and the come filling his throat, struggling to breathe, but Severus would hold tight and order the slut to hold still and "Swallow it!" and he would, eagerly.

"Yes!" He could see it. Potter gagging on his cock, swallowing his come, eyes burning with desire as they gazed up at him.

"Nngh!" Severus's hips canted upward to meet his pumping fist. The vision of Potter's face, the boy's mouth stretched wide around his thick prick was all he needed to fall over the precipice. Severus shuddered, his breath coming in short gasps, his back arching in a tight bow. Creamy white strands exploded from his prick, hitting him high on his chest. He pumped his cock, milking every last drop from it until he could give no more.

Exhausted, he collapsed against the bed and stroked himself down from his high. A small, lazy grin crossed his face. He'd not had such a satisfying orgasm in years. Who knew that all it took would be a subservient Potter? He'd have to file this fantasy away for later use.

Perhaps he had been remiss in neglecting to cultivate a relationship with Potter. Next time Potter offered himself, he'd take the boy on his own terms. It would do no good to let the arrogant brat think he was in control.

Sunday 18 July 11:03 AM

Potter strode through the halls of the Ministry of Magic as if he were the Minister himself. The crowds parted before him as if he were. Clerks scurried up to him, requesting his signature on this form or that. Some he signed, others he sent away with the clerk with further instruction. In the lift, a distinguished wizard dressed in elegant robes held out a thick scroll case to Potter.

"I'd be honoured if you would consider my proposal for adjusting the vampire regulations."

With the air of one used to granting favours, Potter accepted the scroll and tucked it under his arm. "I'll look over it later."

The man's face lit up as if Potter had said that he would agree to the proposal. "Thank you! Thank you so very much!" When the lift reached his floor, he hurried off, a bounce to his step.

Although it was a weekend and presumably not a day of the week when the most important members of the staff would be around, the deference shown Potter was not one Severus would expect for an Auror without any title. Everyone behaved as if Potter were the very head of the Department himself, even though there was no way Potter could have taken over the Auror Department after only three years in the field.

The actual head of the Auror Department, Stephen Tan, met them outside the mortuary.

"Oh, no!" protested Stephen as he warmly shook Potter's hand. He offered his to Severus next. "I'm delighted to be of service. Anything to help you two past this matter."

Stephen laughed. "I can’t deny that is a motivation as well. Please," he waved them after him, "follow me."

The mortuary was a well-lit set of rooms painted with oddly cheerful colours—bright yellows, pale blues, and fresh greens. The white plush carpet only served to brighten the atmosphere. The room where the bodies were kept was no different, except that it had marble flooring instead of carpet. The large, colourful labels on the drawers made Severus feel as if he were standing in the middle of a nursery classroom rather than a storage facility for the dead. Perhaps the designers of the room had imagined that the brightness would lessen the sombre gravity of the place, but it had the opposite effect for Severus. The dank, the dark, the cold and impersonal did not bother him. False cheerfulness did.

Determined to spend as little time in the mortuary as possible, he pulled out his equipment and prepared the fluid collection vials while striding after Stephen to the drawer where Endell was kept.

Although it had been over six months since the man died, the preservation spells and potions gave the corpse the appearance of sleep rather than death. Endell was of average height but had a thin, pinched face and long, giraffe-like legs, as if he had been stretched on a rack at some point in his life. Lank, greasy hair fell about his face and brushed the tops of his shoulders. The smallness of his nose and mouth contrasted sharply with his heavy chin. Even in death, the wrinkles on his face gave the impression of a permanent scowl, and Severus half-expected him to sit up and chastise them for their desecration.

After he'd collected the necessary samples, Severus ran through every single scan and spell of which he could think. If the body had been created in a laboratory, it had been done with such perfect precision that no artificial traces could be found. As much as Severus admired and respected Endell’s talents, he doubted that it was possible to create a fake body that could not be detected by any normal means. Potions and magic always left traces.

"I’m finished," he said, turning away from the body to carefully pack his supplies. As soon as he had everything tucked away, he strode from the disconcerting room, left the Ministry, and Apparated back home to head straight for his lab. Although the vials he had brought were designed for the preservation of samples, he dared not let the slightest bit of wasted time adversely affect his work.

In addition to his tests to determine whether the body had been created, he had also examined Endell for any disease.

Stripping out of his traveling robes, Potter found the necessary jar and dumped the contents into a mortar. "This is enough for ten, twelve bases," he said as he grabbed a pestle. "D'you have that many samples to run?"

"Multiple tests can be run on the same sample, provided the tests are conducted in a certain order. Once you finish with the moonstone, prepare the Armillaria."

With Potter's help, it only took a few hours for Severus to run through the standard repertoire of tests. Although he trusted Potter more than he had before, he only let Potter prepare the ingredients to ensure none of his potions could be tampered with. If Potter tried to change the ingredients, he'd notice when they were added to the cauldron.

Each test showed no evidence of disease. Unable to find anything, he dismissed Potter and cleaned the lab. As he poured out the last cauldron, he noticed the bottom glowing with bright green bioluminescence from remains of the fungus. It was the same as when he tested his own sample.

Although he could not say with certainty, the similar reaction suggested that if he had been poisoned, Endell had been poisoned by the exact same potion.

Tuesday 20th July 6:15 PM

Severus re-wrapped his tools, preparing for the journey home. An entire day wasted. After he'd finished brewing all the outstanding potion orders, he had journeyed to Endell's home. Without Potter by his side, and with a fresh collection of tools at his disposal, he had hoped to find something that had been missed by the other investigators.

Even the vacant houses on either side of Endell's home had contained nothing of use or note. There were no magical traces outside the house or even in the entire neighborhood. After Severus had searched for any missed clues, using every magical method of which he could think, he tried the Muggle way.

He had taken apart all the furniture; he had searched in the walls for hidden spaces; he had torn through the floorboards and checked the ceiling. He had even gone on the roof and searched under every tile.

If a spell had been his downfall, what had the spell been? Where had he found it? All of the spells contained in the Irish texts were either useless, or weaker versions of modern spells. Endell had spent years translating the text, and the short, terse descriptions in the notes of the translations suggested Endell had found them as disappointing as Severus.

If poison had been responsible, then why had Endell been poisoned as well? Had Endell poisoned himself first? Had there been another party that had poisoned them both? Had Endell made a poison from his own blood? None of it made any sense.

He had known that he might lose his memories upon awakening. He had hidden a box for himself to find, but had made it difficult to open. He had told Phineas not to tell him what spell he had cast. He, himself, was more of a mystery than Endell.

After resealing Endell’s house, he returned home, heading straight to the library for dinner with Potter. He had decided not to tell Potter about the fact that Endell had been poisoned too. The boy was still fixated on Endell as the single-handed poisoner, and, although it seemed less likely that Potter was in any way responsible for Severus's illness, he hadn’t ruled out the possibility of guilt yet.

"What did you find at Endell’s house?" asked Phineas as soon as Severus settled behind his desk.

"Nothing of note," said Severus begrudgingly. He had yet to gain a further word from Phineas as to his illness.

"When'll you invite others over to join you for dinner?" asked Paracelsus. "It’s been months since you’ve had the Weasleys. You could use some entertainment and distraction. What does it matter what caused your illness? You are healthy now, are you not? Some things just happen without explanation, and worrying over the cause will only make you sick. Have a party, fuck the boy, let yourself live a little."

Severus narrowed his eyes. Why did the Black family have to be so irritating? He wanted to destroy the canvas.

"It's interesting for you," said Paracelsus, "but the longer we must wait for him to try to solve this damned mystery, the more our lives become wretched. I know you aren’t too fond of the Weasleys, but it’s been far too long since I’ve seen half-covered bosoms or ample female bottoms. Give him a clue. Get him to realise he’s flying in circles and that he'll never solve this mystery. End this nonsense and get women in the house!"

Phineas scratched his chin as he thought over the matter, his dark eyes scanning Severus’s face. "Very well. I'll preface this by stating that I do not know exactly what happened, I only have conjectures based upon what I have observed." He folded his hands in his lap and waited for a prompt.

As soon as he solved the mystery of his past, he would send that infernal portrait up in flames. "Go on...."

Phineas smiled and said, "I’ll tell you this and only this: the spell that was used to bring you to this point is a metaphor."

The spell is a metaphor? A metaphor for what? How could a spell be a metaphor? It made no sense. Phineas was just toying with him.

"Hullo," he said as he set about transfiguring the furniture for dinner. "How was your day?"

"Oh. I’m sorry to hear that," said Potter, a frown on his face. He dropped into his chair after the furniture was transfigured and said with a smile, "Perhaps this'll cheer you up a bit. The Ministry wants to hire us to consult on an issue-"

"Save the business for later," said Paracelsus as he scooted his chair closer to the frame of his portrait. "I want to know when you’ll be having guests. It’s been ages since you’ve thrown a party. Will you be having your birthday here?"

Harry set down his glass, glancing at Severus. "If Severus doesn't mind, I would be more than happy to have friends over for my birthday. I planned to rent a hall."

Potter was waiting for permission before he threw his birthday party in his own house? Severus had no idea he had that much control over the home. Potter hadn’t waited before inviting his friends over to play Quidditch.

There was no reason to object to guests. He could always force them to leave, should they prove to be a nuisance. Besides, he needed to conduct blood tests to ensure that the fungal bioluminescence he had observed was a property common only to him and Endell. He had never seen it before, but he had only tested himself, Endell, and Potter since his recovery; and diet and environmental contaminants could also explain the result. Intoxicated guests would be easy to collect blood samples from. "Provided that the guests come and leave within a reasonable hour, you may have a party."

"It doesn't matter to me," said Severus, watching the boy eat. He knew he had power over the other wizard, but how much? What could he make Potter do? Suck his cock and bend over to be fucked, he had no doubt about that, but how far did his control over Potter go? After such a frustrating day, he wanted entertainment and release. No better way to get that than through Potter.

When they finished their meal, Severus cleared the table and dishes, leaving Potter sitting in his chair.

Pink seared Potter’s cheeks, his eyebrows rising, but he reached for his wand.

"No," said Severus, his voice stopping the hand on its way to Potter’s trousers. "No privacy spells. Take off your clothes here and now."

Phineas and Paracelsus were silent, seemingly transfixed by the interaction. Potter glanced at them again, swallowed, and undid the clasp on his robes. With a slow, methodical precision, he stripped off his outer robes, dropping them to the floor beside his chair. He worked himself out of fabric without looking away from Severus’s face, the growing intensity of his eyes matching the increasing flush on his cheeks. As each layer of clothing fell, he grew more and more confident, each peeling becoming a dare, rather than a submission. When he had stripped everything away but his boxers he paused, staring at Severus. "Well?"

"Everything," said Severus slowly, allowing his eyes to feast on the flesh offered so freely.

Smirking, Potter lifted up his arse and pulled down his boxers, his erection popping free from the soft cotton confines. He was not yet fully hard, but from the tightness in his nipples and the flush on his skin, Severus suspected he would be very soon.

Now that he had the boy bare, Severus moved his chair a bit closer to Potter to observe him more closely. He examined him with a detached air, as if he were calculating the use of a potion. It was difficult to maintain his detachment when he wanted nothing more than to go over there and plunge his cock into Potter’s arse or mouth, but he sat, ignoring his own erection, and drank in every bit of Potter.

Potter licked his lips, his breath coming quicker, his cock steadily filling. The little pervert was getting off on being watched. Severus had always suspected the boy was an exhibitionist.

He sat and waited. He waited until Potter was fully hard, his glans dark red. Swollen and dripping. He waited until Potter’s nails dug into the armrests of his chair, his toes tapping the floor. He waited until Potter wriggled in his seat, his eyes glazed with lust, and his skin so red, it almost appeared sunburnt.

Potter made a noise that was half-whinge, half-growl and Severus finally stood, striding over to inspect the body displayed before him.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Potter followed Severus with hungry eyes. He only opened his mouth to wet his lips, his pink tongue darting out before disappearing again.

Stopping an arm’s length away, Severus stared down at the boy, trying to intimidate him, to force him to turn away. But Potter never wavered, his eyes focused only on Severus.

"You want me," said Severus in a deep purr. Potter shuddered at the sound of Severus's voice, as if the words had caressed his skin.

"Oh yes!" he answered, his voice harsh. "Do something. It doesn’t matter what. Just do something. Anything!"

"You want me to fuck you?" At the word fuck, Potter shivered, his cock pulsing as if he were coming. Amazed that he could get the boy this hard and wanting just by his words, Severus continued, "You want me to fuck you in front of the portraits? I knew you were attention seeking. I knew you were an exhibitionist."

"Please," Potter begged, his nails clawing the armrests of the chair. "Please, Severus. I don’t care about- Please. Just touch me."

Anything. He could do anything he wanted. It was power beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. "You filthy slut."

Severus continued, "I bet you’d love to have me fuck you. You want to suck me until I’m hard and then take my cock up your arse."

"Oh!" Potter threw back his head, his eyes squeezing shut, his mouth open and panting.

"You want me to plunge into you and fuck you hard and deep and you’d take it all, begging for more. You want to be fucked."

"Oh, Severus!" Potter’s hips jerked, his arse rising up off the chair, his muscles rigid and trembling, straining for Severus's touch.

Potter’s eyes snapped open. Severus stared into the brilliant green, leant in close and growled ever so slowly, "You want me to stretch out your arse and fuck you until you can’t walk for a week. You want me to blow my load deep inside your arse or all over your face. You want my cock." Potter whinged, his legs spreading even further apart. "You need it."

"I do! Please! Fuck! It's been so long!" Muscles tight, Potter wantonly humped the empty air, his eyes glazed behind his glasses. "Oh, please!"

Potter's reddened skin looked so warm. His lips pink and plump and wet. What would it feel like to slide his cock in between them? Reaching out a hand, Severus brushed two fingertips over Potter's soft lower lip.

Potter's tongue darted out to meet the fingers as he sucked in a huge breath of air. Severus pushed his fingers into Potter's hot mouth, only to have it drop open in a wordless cry, his eyes squeezed shut, his back arching, as he came without touching himself. As Severus watched, entranced, his fingers still in Potter's mouth, long, creamy strands of come shot from Potter's engorged, twitching cock. More and more splashed across Potter's abdomen and chest until he was spent. With a final shudder, the boy's body relaxed and collapsed into the chair. His skin was glistening with sweat and the smell of spunk filled the air.

He'd done it! He'd made Potter come with just a touch alone. Never had he felt so powerful, so desired, so sexy. It was a word he had never thought he would ever associate with himself. He was the one Potter wanted. Not those beautiful, perfect girls or those strong, handsome men. Of everyone in the wizarding world the boy could've possibly chosen, Potter had chosen him.

Sliding his fingers out of Potter's mouth, he brushed them over the soft flesh of the boy's lip. He trailed them through the sticky semen covering Potter's biceps, eliciting a shiver. When he lifted his hand, Potter bent forward to eagerly suck the digits into his mouth; his exquisite eyes never wavering from Severus's as he licked the fingers like they were Severus's cock instead. The whore had such a talented mouth.

But he couldn't. Not with the matter of the escort. Reality popping his fantasy, he gazed over at the portraits. Paracelsus was watching with a grin that nearly split his face, but Phineas was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably been disgusted by the display and left. What had he done? He'd forced his lover bare, and then groped him in front of an audience. Potter was his, and his alone.

Paracelsus opened his mouth to speak but Severus flicked his wand, casting a privacy spell over the two of them, shielding Potter from view. He yanked his fingers away from Potter's talented tongue.

"It's over," said Severus as he smoothed down his robes, trying to focus his mind away from his own desperate hardness. "Put on your clothes."

With shaking hands, Potter reached for his clothes. "It's okay if you- if you don't want to ... do anything. But at least let me touch you." He stood, cleaning his torso of come and sweat with a wave of his wand. He stretched out his other hand towards Severus, his palm up. "Please. Just sleep with me. Side-by-side."

Shaking his head, Severus began to speak, but Potter interrupted, "I won't ask you to have sex with me. I just ... I need to feel you close again. Please, Severus." He took another step closer, his hand almost touching Severus's arm. "It's been so long."

If he ended up in the same bed as Potter, he wouldn't be able to control himself. "Get dressed," Severus told him, turning away. Tomorrow, after he finished his commissions, he would attempt to contact the escort again.

"Let me give you a back massage," pleaded Potter. "You can leave your shirt on."

And leave his back open to Potter? He didn't trust him that much. "I'll be in my lab." He strode off without looking back.

Wednesday 21st July 10:00 AM

Although Severus woke promptly at seven a.m. each morning, he was well aware of the fact that escorts probably maintained a different schedule and he waited to call Andreros until he felt certain the man would at least be awake, if not by his phone. It was difficult to concentrate on his commissions with memories of the night before racing through his head, bolstered by fantasies of what would have happened if he'd not brought an end to the experiment.

When he heard the soft charm of his alarm, alerting him to the changing of the hour, he was already out of his lab, flying across the property to leave the Anti-Apparition wards. As soon as he could, he Apparated straight to London, found a place to conceal himself, Polyjuiced into one of his 'generic' forms, and Apparated to a busy city street to find the nearest phone booth.

Noting one nearby his Apparition point, he set up privacy charms before entering and dialing the number he had memorised.

Severus took a breath and launched into the speech he had prepared in his disguised voice. Taking care to sound hesitant and friendly, he said, "Good morning. A friend of mine gave me your business card and suggested that you might be able to help me. There is a dinner party I have been invited to attend on the first of November, and I seek a companion. To be clear, I have no desire for ... intimacy. My sole purpose is to appease nagging relations. As I have been busy with my work, I have had no time to find a companion to take along. I realise that this may be an inconvenience for you, and I am prepared to offer you compensation equivalent to and above a normal evening's worth of work. My primary concern is that you'll be discreet yet entertaining. If you are interested, I'll insist on arranging a meeting with you within the next few days."

"Of course," murmured Andreros, "I insist on it, as well. Shall we dine together tomorrow evening?"

After obtaining an address, Severus returned home, only to find Potter's traveling cloak hung up on the coat rack. It was unusual for the boy to be home during a workday and Severus called Kreacher.

Was Potter sick? Severus strode to the wing with the bedrooms. Without knocking, he pushed open the door to Potter's bedroom.

Potter was standing in front of the mirror on his wardrobe's door, buttoning his shirt. He paused when he saw Severus's reflection. "Is something wrong?"

Potter's fingers resumed their work. "This crazy warlock decided that his neighbor was intent on killing him, and he set up traps around his home. When the neighbor complained about his behavior, we went to go talk to him and the traps went off. An acid bomb almost hit me. I set up a Shield Charm, but it splashed the edges of my robe and my shoe."

"Are you hurt? Let me see." Severus stepped into the room, glancing down at Potter's feet, which were encased in the shoes he typically wore to work.

"Not at all," answered Potter as he tucked in his shirt. "It didn't touch my skin at all; only damaged clothing that I already threw away. I normally keep an extra pair at work, but I forgot to replace the clothes the last time they were ruined."

A feminine voice said, "Cet homme est celui qui s'est faufilé dans ta chambre." [4]

Startled, Severus whipped out his wand, turning in the direction of the voice. There, in front of a field of flowers, stood a blonde woman dressed in what appeared to be an eighteenth century French ball gown. Paintings in bedrooms were always charmed to prevent occupants from other portraits entering their frames. How could she appear here? How long had she been there? Had she seen him spying on Potter?

"En fait?" asked Potter, his eyes darting between the woman in the painting and Severus's reflection.

They were speaking French. Potter spoke French—that was why Severus had wanted him to come with him to France—to interpret. Why had he set his safe password in a language Potter knew but he didn't?

The woman nodded and said, "Oui, j’en suis certaine. Je reconnaîtrais son pif formidable n’importe où."

Potter grinned. Turning away from the mirror, he introduced them with a wave of his hand. "Severus, this is Emilie, Emilie, this is Severus. I found her in the library of the Ministry of Magic when researching your illness. She knows a lot about astronomy. I found another portrait of her and hung it in our library, but she prefers to stay in quiet rooms when she's not at the Ministry's library. She never knew you because you were taken ill before I brought her here." To the woman, he said, "Il est mon petit ami, celui dont je vous ai parlé."

Severus frowned. From the way they spoke and kept looking at him, it seemed she knew he had been in Potter's rooms and she had told the boy. There was nothing he could do about it now. Raising his eyebrows at Potter, he asked, "You let portraits enter the guest bedrooms?"

Potter turned back to the mirror as he pulled on his Auror robes. "No, I let her come in here when I made it my room. I don't mind her company."

Severus straightened his back. "Don't ever let the portraits enter my room." With that order, Severus swept from the room.

Thursday 22nd July 6:54 PM

When Jason Andreros strode into the foyer of the restaurant, Severus's first thought was that he must have veela ancestry. Men who were handsome could rarely be called beautiful, yet Andreros was somehow masculine and beautiful at the same time. He stood tall, over six feet, with thick, carefully styled black hair that brushed the top of his collar. High cheekbones complemented his strong jaw and high forehead. The bronze highlights on his almond-coloured skin suggested days spent in the sun, yet the perfect skin was smooth and clear of wrinkles. He walked and stood as if he owned the place.

As Severus crossed the room to greet him, he felt all eyes—both male and female—on him, and he knew that his Polyjuice choice of a distinguished-looking business man, had been perfect. If he were to arrive and meet this man with his real face, everyone would have believed money backed their meeting.

"Please, call me Jason," he said with an easy, white-toothed smile that was so friendly, Severus's own wasn't as forced as usual. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Even though Severus knew that Jason was treating him with such respect because he was a potential client, the room grew warm at the feel of Jason's strong, soft hand in his own. Jason's eyes weren't as black as they had appeared from a distance, but a startling dark blue like the belly of a peacock. The only other set of eyes that Severus had seen that could possibly compare in their brilliance belonged to Lily and her son. Jason gazed at Severus with an intensity unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He felt as if he were the only man in the room, and the only man Jason had ever wanted to look at.

Swallowing hard, Severus led Jason over to the maître d'. If the stiff-backed man knew what Jason was, he gave no sign of disapproval. On the contrary, he fawned over Jason, treating the man as if he were a member of the royal family. After they had been shown to their table and ordered drinks, Jason said, "I have always been told that it is best not to discuss business on an empty stomach. Besides, you intrigue me. You rang me at my private number, which I give to very few individuals. Tell me about yourself and-" He smiled. "-the ex-boyfriend."

Ex-boyfriend? How had Jason known about Potter? It was only through years of training as a spy that Severus controlled his reaction to only show a bit of confusion. Gripping his wand beneath the table, he asked, "Ex-boyfriend?"

The corners of his mouth tugging up, Jason toyed with the stem of his wineglass. "Men do not hire me to show off to relatives, they hire me to show off to ex-boyfriends. There is someone you wish to impress."

"Ah ... yes." Severus let himself smile. "There will be someone there I hope will take notice of the two of us."

"We were together for almost three years. I've changed, but he won't accept that." Leaning back, Severus crafted a story about a clingy, needy ex-boyfriend as he waited for the Veritaserum to take effect. Earlier, under the guise of examining the table to be sure that everything was perfect, he had laced Jason's water glass with a slow-acting version of the potion. The drug didn't take effect until after the main course had arrived, and then, as soon as Severus saw Jason's eyes begin to glaze as if he had had too much to drink, and heard his words begin to take on a flat, emotionless voice, he cast privacy wards around their table.

"Forty-two Sloane Street, Knightsbridge, South West London, Great Britain, United Kingdom-"

"That's good enough." Reaching into his robes, Severus removed a picture of Harry and slid it across the table. "Have you slept with this man?"

Scott peered hard at the photo as if he were trying to decipher a code rather than recognise a face. After a moment, he smiled and said, "Harry. Yes, I've slept with him. Loads of times." His eyes glowed brightly. "He has one of the biggest cocks I've ever had. Absolutely gorgeous."

That slag! Severus's stomach twisted, but he forced himself to remain calm and focused. "When did you first sleep with him?"

The confirmation was a nail pierced through Severus's gut. The whore had been sleeping around while he was on his deathbed! "Listen to me," he growled, unwilling to hear any more. "Are you still sleeping with him?"

"No." Scott shook his head. "He stopped calling in the middle of April. I often think about him. I wonder what happened to Severus, his boyfriend. He was sick, so very, very sick-"

The whore didn't bother to hide his infidelity? "You knew about his sick boyfriend?"

For a moment, Severus could do nothing but stare at Scott while the man rambled on about how 'very, very sick' Severus had been. Why would he hire someone to fuck Potter? Was he so perverted that he enjoyed watching another man fuck what belonged to him? When Severus once again had control of his voice, he asked, "Harry didn't hire you? Severus did?"

Scott nodded. "Severus hired me. When I arrived, I almost backed out because I could tell Harry was hesitant and was only doing it for Severus. So many times men hire me because they want to sleep with me. I don't want to interfere with relationships. If I feel that one partner wants it more than the other, I'll walk away. It was different with them, but then, I've never met another couple like them." Scott paused, as if caught in his memories, before he continued. "Severus hired me because he could barely move. He was bedridden and I got the impression he no longer had erections. Towards the end, he even stopped kissing Harry—he lacked the strength. He'd lie there, just looking at Harry. Always looking in his eyes. Most of the time, it was as if I weren't in the room. He never touched me once. Not even a bit. I didn't mind of course, I was hired as a way for Severus to pleasure Harry. That's all he cared about, making sure that Harry was happy, and it was the same with Harry. All he cared about was doing whatever pleased Severus, what made him happy.

"It wasn't hard to please Severus either. I swear, even though he couldn't actually get off, sometimes he seemed to come just by watching Harry's face. He-"

"Show me," demanded Severus. "Think of when you slept with Harry. Legilimens!"

With the effect of the Veritaserum, Scott's mind was a slow, vapid mix of memories. It was easy enough for Severus to latch onto one and pull it forward.

Severus lay on a bed, his face so thin and sallow, one might have thought him dead, had his eyes not been open and fixed on Potter. The boy lay naked beside him, one hand tangled in Severus's hair, the other clutching the bedsheets. Severus held him in a limp embrace, his left hand under Potter's shoulder, his right flaccid by his side.

"Oh fuck," Potter moaned as Scott sucked his cock, taking it all the way down his throat. "Oh…."

"Slower," said Severus, his intense black eyes focused on Potter's green.

Potter swore as Scott's head slowed over his cock. "Severus," he breathed, the name half-moan, half-plea.

"Suck his balls," said Severus, his eyes never leaving Potter's face. "But don't let him come, not yet."

"You fucking bastard," hissed Potter when Scott released his cock with a wet pop. He spread his legs and pressed his lips against Severus's, kissing him with a wild abandonment. Severus matched Potter's ferociousness with his own passion and when they broke apart, both panting, his voice was rough as he growled to Potter, "Fuck him. I want to watch you fuck him."

"Merlin, yes!" Potter kissed Severus again, then shot up to his knees.

"Bend over that," he ordered Scott, pointing at the headless thestral. "Over the side, so he can see my dick up your arse."

Severus left Scott's head. He had seen enough. There was no doubt in his mind that he had hired the escort.

"I've always wanted Harry to give me head," Scott was saying. "Severus loved to watch him lick and suck my fingers. That was the only part of my body Harry ever sucked or kissed. He refused to do anything else with his mouth: he said it was for Severus only. Severus didn't mind, but he'd let Harry do whatever he wanted, probably because it was hard to refuse a man with a mouth like that." Scott smiled and shook his head. "And what a talented mouth! I've never had anyone suck my fingers nearly half as well, or with as much enthusiasm, as Harry. The entire time he had my fingers in his mouth, I could think of nothing but how brilliant he'd be at sucking cock."

"I think," said Scott, lost in his words, "that was the reason Severus loved to see Harry do it. He loved to see the effect Harry had on me. He's a very handsome man, you know. Not as good-looking as me of course. He's got an average face and all those scars. Really, too many scars. But nice, nice body other than that. He takes care of himself. Beautiful cock. Choice arse-"

Scott, the most handsome man he'd ever seen, fancied Potter? It was easy to see why wizards were attracted to Potter in connection with his reputation, but never had Severus thought to consider that Potter would be desired for anything other than his power in the wizarding world.

Scott shook his head. "When I first met them, I couldn't believe that someone like Harry could be in a relationship with a man like Severus. I knew he had been ill for a while, but I saw pictures. He was not an attractive man even before he was sick, and he just got worse as his illness progressed. I remember thinking.... When I first arrived, I thought that Harry was a kept boy. He-"

"The gay equivalent of a trophy wife. A handsome young man who stays with an older man for financial compensation. People can talk all they want about a man with a 'nice personality', but when it comes down to it, men want partners who look good. I've been with loads of-"

"He started paying me towards the end. Severus seemed too smart to allow a toy access to his bank accounts, even though he was dying. Besides, I've never seen a couple that devoted to each other. Even though I did everything I could to give Harry pleasure, nothing I did compared to the few things Severus did. Severus liked to tell me to try to get Harry off. It was a game between them. I'd work so hard to please Harry, but he'd hold back. He would be covered in sweat, his entire body shaking, but he wouldn't come until Severus told me to stop and touched Harry himself. Severus would whisper in his ear, trying to get him to break his concentration, and sometimes, Harry wouldn't be able to resist him and would come on a word alone." He shook his head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I never tell anyone this."

The Veritaserum would soon leave Scott's system. With the drug lowering the man's defenses, it was easy for Severus to remove the memory of the questioning. Scott blinked a few times, then stared at his plate. In a clear voice, he said, "Forgive me, I was distracted by my plate. Have you ever seen such artful presentation?""

"No," answered Severus, his interest in Scott had evaporated, now that he had the information he needed. Releasing the wards of concealment, he distracted Scott with conversation until it was time to leave.

10:13 PM

"Where have you been?" Potter stood in the foyer, his arms crossed, watching as Severus took off his traveling cloak.

Even though he knew he had hired the escort, Severus couldn't get the images of Potter and Scott out of his head. How could he've stomached seeing the two of them together? He should have been enough for Potter. How could Potter have slept with another man while his boyfriend lay dying right in front of him? It was a mindset he could never, would never, understand. He would have never tolerated Lily with another man, and he saw no reason why he should tolerate that from Potter. Potter should've refused. Severus had been sick, he'd been dying, he'd not been in his right mind.

Severus turned to face him. Potter's skin had gone rather pallid and his arms were crossed high over his chest as if he were holding himself together.

"You're angry at the idea of me sleeping with another man." Severus strode past him, walking to the sitting room.

Potter followed, his voice growing louder with each word. "How am I supposed to feel when you'll not sleep with me?"

Spinning around, Severus dropped into a sofa. Leaning back against the cushions, he asked in a deep voice, "Do you want to sleep with me?"

"Take off your clothes." Severus waved his hand as if it didn't matter either way.

Swearing under his breath, Potter yanked off his tie, throwing it to the floor. He disrobed as if he was enraged with each article of clothing, ripping and tearing at them, tossing them around his feet until a litter of discarded cloth surrounded him like a carpet of freshly fallen leaves. Naked, his chest heaving, he stared at Severus. "There," he said. "I did it."

The boy was being deliberately obtuse. Arching an eyebrow, Severus slowly said, "I want you to masturbate."

Grabbing his dick, Potter yanked on it with all the finesse of a third year who had just discovered masturbation.

Potter glared, but his hand slowed over his cock. Giving an easy slide from tip to base, he asked, "Who did you really see?"

Each stroke of Potter's hand was almost like a stroke on his own cock. Feasting on the visual display before him, Severus asked, "What makes you think I didn't see an escort?"

"You still have a mystery to solve. You're paranoid as fuck. You'd never let a person get that close to your privates without a thorough vetting process and you've not been awake that long." He lifted his chin, his jaw set and his eyes glittering. "You want to make me angry. You want a reaction. If you can get one from me without doing any work, you'll do that. Well, you got your reaction. What'll you do now?" He pulled back his foreskin, exposing the darkening head of his cock. "Fuck me?"

Severus let his eyes drift over Potter's body as if he were evaluating a student-produced potion and, as usual, found the product wanting. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Tilting his head back, exposing the long curve of his neck, Potter said, "As much as you."

Arrogant as always, but the words were far more erotic than annoying. Hiding his desire, Severus said coolly, "Such arrogance. I see you've not learnt a thing."

Potter swirled his thumb around the engorged head of his cock before he resumed the rhythmic slide. His prick was already as thick as Severus's. "We've been together for years. If I'd not learned how to please you by now, I'd be a poor student, and trust me, I can learn if given proper motivation."

Severus's cock twitched at Potter's words, pressing uncomfortably tight against the confines of his garments, but he didn't dare reveal to Potter how aroused he was. "I'm amazed a dunderhead like you can learn anything at all."

"I've learned loads." His vivid eyes fixed on Severus, Potter lifted his free hand to his mouth and his red tongue darted out to slowly slide up his fingers. Watching Severus's face, he sucked two fingers into his mouth, his tongue chasing after them as they reemerged, only to plunge them back in again.

Scott's words rang through Severus's head. What a talented mouth! I've never had anyone suck my fingers nearly half as well, or with as much enthusiasm, as Harry. Severus stifled a groan. He wanted to yank Potter's hands away and let that wicked tongue slide all over his cock. The little cock tease pressed his tongue flat against his palm as he licked all the way from the base of his hand to the top of his middle finger. As Severus watched, entranced, Potter switched his hands, grabbing his prick with his saliva slickened palm and sliding the foreskin ever so slowly up and down over the rim of his glans. With his other hand, he cupped his balls, rolling them between his fingers.

"Mmm," moaned Potter, his hips languidly canting. "In your mind, it's been years since someone sucked your cock, hasn't it? You don't remember how good it was. It'll be like our first time all over again."

The slut! Potter was so desperate for his cock. How far would the boy go for just a taste? Scooting to the edge of the sofa, Severus spread his legs. "Come here." He pointed between his knees.

Potter dropped to his hands and knees, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He crawled like a cat stalking its prey, never taking his eyes off his target. His arse high in the air, his head lowered, he stared at Severus with his exquisite eyes as if daring Severus to stop him. When he reached Severus's knees, he said in a low, rough voice, "I want to suck you so bad. Ever since you woke up, I can't get the thought of your cock out of my head. Let me lick you." He raised a hand but Severus raised his.

Grinning, Potter nudged his legs apart. "You want to see this?" Holding the rest of his body still, he waved his hard cock at Severus. "I get so fucking hard just thinking about you."

He was always trying to take control. Severus arched an eyebrow at him and said, "If you want me to do anything with you at all, you'll obey me."

For a moment, Severus just sat there and drank in the sight of Potter's powerful body kneeling before him. Although Potter wasn't as perfect as Scott, he did have his own charm with those strong, sinewy muscles and enormous prick. That impressive statement of desire was more than enough to make any man feel wanted, needed, but more than that, erotic. Potter's thick cock was due just to the idea of sucking Severus's. How could he deny at least showing the boy what he so clearly wanted?

His eyes drifting between Potter's face and cock, Severus slid his hands to his crotch. Pushing aside his outer robes, he picked up the bottom edge of his frock coat and popped a button through the opening. Potter sucked in a breath, his eyes fixed on Severus's groin as if it were a Snitch. Amazing. The boy had never been this attentive in class, this eager. Moving at a glacial speed, Severus trailed his hands up the cloth until he found the second button. He toyed with it a moment before he pushed it through as well. Two buttons undone and Potter looked as though he were a first-year who had somehow sneaked into Honeydukes. At the third, the cloth fell away enough to reveal Severus's trouser-clad erection. Potter made a small whimpering sound, deep in his throat, and Severus paused a moment to watch his fingers clench and unclenching on either side of his calves.

Once Potter had calmed somewhat, Severus popped the fourth button out, and pushed aside the cloth until only two articles of clothing remained between the air and the treasure that Potter so greatly desired. Potter leant forward, his eyes tracing the shape of Severus's privates. Severus straightened his back to easily reach the button at the top of his trousers. As he did so, a glint of light shone on the edge of Potter's cock, and he caught the sight of pre-come leaking from the slit. He smirked to himself. He had the boy hard and dripping and he'd not even taken out his dick.

He'd not cast any spells of protection or concealment and, in theory, anyone could walk into the sitting room at any time and find him exposed. After the Marauders had stripped him bare in front of the entire school population, Severus had never been able to stand the idea of leaving his body vulnerable to viewing, or to remove articles of clothing where others might see his nudity. However, Potter was entirely bare, and he knew laughter would not greet his penis this time. If anyone did intrude upon them, there would be no doubt as to just how attractive Harry Potter found Severus Snape. If James Potter could see his son now....

Severus pushed the top button of his trousers through the buttonhole. Potter made no move, his vivid eyes unwavering. The next button popped out and the next. Severus kept his hands over his groin, hiding from view what Potter craved as he worked his way down the buttons. When he reached the last one, he paused and stared at Potter until the boy's eyes flickered up, questioning why the show had stopped. Meeting his gaze, Severus popped open the last button and pushed the clothing to the side. Potter's eyes dropped down and a low moan escaped his throat when he saw the single button that remained—a small, solitary circle guarding the opening on Severus's pants.

Teasingly, Severus let his hands drift away from the button, from the cock straining against the thin cloth of his smalls. Potter gave a low growl, his body tensing, his hands curling into fists. Impatient himself, Severus was more than ready to gain some relief for his engorged prick, which was still tucked away in his constricting smalls. Relenting, he allowed his hands to return to his groin. Potter licked his lips as Severus pushed the button through its hole. Reaching inside the cloth, he grabbed his thick, hard flesh and pulled it out, letting his hand slide down his prick in a caress.

"Severus...." groaned Potter, his dick twitching as his eyes feasted on the massive cock before him.

Reaching into his smalls again, Severus freed his balls as well. Tight and hard against his perineum, he knew it wouldn't be long before they released their load, especially when those bright eyes were devouring him.

"You want to suck this?" Severus asked, letting his hand stroke lazily up and down the shaft.

Potter froze, then slid back onto his knees, his hand dropping. He was closer than before, his face at eye level with Severus's cock, and just two handspans away.

"Just watch," ordered Severus as he wrapped his fingers around his fat prick and wanked himself. Careful to go slow enough to give Potter a good look at his cock, he let his fingers glide from the top of his balls to the tip of his engorged glans, balling his foreskin near the top.

"You're a bloody tease," Potter said, as he watched with eager anticipation, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Potter moaned, "Fuck me." He yanked off his glasses, throwing them to the side. His lips curling up in an almost-snarl, he said, "I want your cock inside me. I want you to-"

Potter's gaze flickered between Severus's eyes and cock before he bent forward and opened his mouth.

Sliding his hand quicker, Severus pulled the foreskin up and down over the glans and worked himself to orgasm. He shifted closer to the edge of the sofa, and pressed his cock forward toward Potter's waiting mouth. Those soft lips had been delightful to rub his fingers against. How would it feel with the delicate skin of his cock? Severus slowly ran his red, swollen glans over the boy's warm lower lip. The feel of the smooth skin pressed against his own was like the purest silk, better than any fabric he had ever felt before. Pre-come leaked from his rigid cock, wetting the pliable flesh as he stroked his cock back and forth. A whimper escaped Potter's throat as Severus outlined his mouth.

At the sound of Potter's need, the pressure that had been building in Severus's groin exploded, and he came with a deep moan, his come spattering into Potter's hungry mouth. Release swept away his tension and he melted into the chair, watching as he painted the red tongue white. He jerked his penis up, splashing his spunk across Potter's face in a thick, creamy line that stretched from the middle of his scar to the base of his nose.

He milked himself until he was finished, letting out a final grunt of release. Potter opened his eyes and flicked out his tongue, licking the trace remains of come from the softening glans. Severus hissed and yanked his sensitive cock-head away from the soft, yet rough, tongue. Potter made no move to clean the come off his face, his intense eyes never leaving Severus's. He looked so delightfully debauched kneeling there, his legs still spread, his cock still hard, an eager hunger still clouding his eyes.

For a moment, the inane notion of leaning forward and cleaning his own come off of Potter's flushed face with his tongue crowded all rational thought from Severus's head, but he swiftly returned to his senses and tucked his cock back in his trousers. He needed to leave the room before he gave in to Potter's desires. He'd make the boy wait longer, until the slut was begging openly, wantonly, for a chance to be fucked by him.

"Go away." He waved his hand to shoo Potter away as he adjusted his clothing. "I'm finished with you."

A spark of anger lit in Potter's eyes, and he curled his fists. Severus half-expected to be hit, but then, Potter seemed to think better of it, and the anger faded. Sighing, he Summoned his clothes. He turned away from Severus as he pulled them on, hiding his cock from view, and casting cleaning spells under his breath.

Triumphant, Severus settled back against the sofa cushions and pulled out a scroll to read.

After a bit, Potter approached his side cleaned and dressed. Severus lowered his scroll, prepared to yell at the boy. But, too quick for him to respond, Potter bent and kissed him on the cheek, then slipped out of Severus's arm's reach. "Goodnight, mon renard," he said before he strode from the room.

Saturday 31st July 4:23 PM

Severus checked the clock on the wall. Although he still had at least two hours before the guests arrived, he decided to clean his laboratory rather than start a new project. A charm alerted him to someone on the stairs and he double-checked the concealment spells he had placed on the cauldrons he had prepared. When Potter knocked on the door, he flicked it open with his wand, glancing up only long enough to confirm that no one else had imitated Potter's knock.

"Hullo," said Potter as he wandered into the room. "Have you finished the newest commission?"

When the order for Adderellus had arrived the day before, with the promise of extra galleons, should it be finished and sent back soon, Severus had leapt at the chance to brew and spend hours alone in his lab. He wanted his blood test results back as soon as possible, and it would be easier to examine the samples if he had bases prepared ahead of time. It had taken an entire day to set up twenty cauldrons, especially since he'd been forced to travel to Diagon Alley and purchase the ingredients personally, as he didn't want Potter to know what he'd bought.

It still unnerved him to know that Potter could deduce what he was brewing based on ingredients purchased. He knew there were limits to the boy's knowledge, but he'd not had enough time to properly explore the boundaries and he didn't dare underestimate him. He wouldn't have tolerated the boy for long if he'd not become decently clever.

Even now, Potter meandered over to the flask filled with the pearl-white liquid and peered at it critically, as if he might be able to find a mistake in Severus's work. "Why isn't it clear?"

Adderellus, a mental clarity and alertness potion, normally brewed clear, but Severus had added a few touches of his own, designed to give the high a smooth, natural feeling.

Severus scoffed. As much as Potter thought he knew about potions, there were still many topics he knew nothing about. "Clematis dioica flowers, which I used to give a very smooth high, will always turn a potion pearly."

Not this again. Sometimes Potter insisted on trying to prove that he knew Severus better than the man himself by arguing with him on what he had done. It was irritating and pointless and just emphasised that Potter didn't know as much about potions as he thought he did. With only the slightest bit of patience, Severus said, "I've never used Piper marginatum or any other plants from the Pepper family. Piperleaves require more effort to incorporate for an effect that is merely cosmetic. I see no reason to make cosmetic changes to potions."

Potter's hard eyes didn't change. "You may not remember using it, but you did use it before."

There was never any point to these stupid arguments. Potter always backed down in the end, but not until after trying to win a point for far too long. Unwilling to entertain the boy's desire to be right once in a while, Severus snapped, "No. If I did, then I made the choice later. Why do you even argue this with me? You didn't know me for a few years after the war ended, and I doubt you know me that well at all. It is most likely that you do not remember correctly."

Potter's frown remained, but he changed the subject. "The food, drinks, and extra house-elves have arrived to help with the party. I'll go and get ready. I'll see you this evening." He left, the door shutting behind his back.

Severus hurried through the rest of his lab duties, then rushed to the house to prepare for the guests. Although it would be impossible and dangerous to try drugging a house full of guests, he did want inhibitions to be lowered. First, he called Kreacher and assembled the guest house-elves. "I want my guests to have full glasses. Refill any glass as soon as the amount of the alcoholic beverage in it drops below three-quarters full. All the drinks floated around should be alcoholic as well. When the guests sit down for dinner, fill their wine glasses."

Next, he examined the food that would be offered for appetisers, main courses, and desserts. There were already plenty of dairy-based products, but he added more to counter-effect the tannins from the wine. It would be harder for the guests to measure their alcohol consumption if the traditional signs of heavy wine drinking were absent. The decorated cake had been ordered from a company and could not be tampered with, but Severus asked for the extra slices of cake to be prepped with alcohol and placed besides Potter's cake when it was served.

Finally, he checked the alcohol percentages of all the liquor purchased for the party and 'upgraded' the bottles as much as he could without causing the taste to be noticeably different. Even the butterbeer received the same treatment. Of course, he had refused to allow Harry to invite children to the event. If any adults drank butterbeer, they deserved to get pissed. For himself, he poured a glass of his finest scotch from his private reserves. He had the feeling he would need a fair amount of alcohol to tolerate Potter's friends traipsing all over the house.

9:01 PM

Gryffindors were harder to intoxicate than Severus had anticipated, but their naivety proved to be just what he needed to lure them into side rooms and collect samples. He simply told them that he had noticed some irregularities in his blood work and wanted to test if the cause was environmental or specific to him. Only Granger—rather Weasley-Granger as she reminded him—demurred slightly before offering up her sample.

"They do have your original blood samples on record at the Ministry, you know. If you are interested in seeing if you were poisoned, then the simplest way would be to obtain copies of the blood drawn during either one of your legal experiences with the Ministry. In addition to the first time you were charged as a Death Eater, samples were taken when you gave your accounts after the final battle."

Giving her the same look that used to send pink across her cheeks and keep her hand in her lap for the rest of the class at Hogwarts, Severus said, "Am I supposed to believe that the samples are identical to what was collected years ago? You children proved that the Ministry is not nearly as well-guarded as one would hope."

With an indignant harrumph, she crossed her arms. "We children defeated a Dark Lord. Harry holds the largest record for dark wizard catches already and-"

"Yes," she agreed with a nod of her head. "That is because, unlike you, Harry has the good sense to know when he needs help and how to ask for aid. His strength comes from the fact that he's not got to lie or manipulate people to get what he wants. He simply asks politely."

There were few things as irritating as lectures from former students, but Granger's speeches were the most aggravating of them all. "Are you finished?"

"Ah, Severus," she said, greeting him for the first time that evening. "I'm delighted to see you found the shampoo."

"Quiet, woman," he snapped. In a softer tone, he asked, "Why did you not join us for dinner?"

Her expression said she was as horrified as if he had suggested she marry Draco to Ginny. "You expect me to spend two hours at a table with that family? We tolerate them for your sake, Severus, but there are limits."

"That you would tolerate them at all is surprising to me," Severus said, arching his eyebrow.

She gave a non-committal toss of her head. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have our wealth and political clout. As to why you would wish for my family to be tolerant of the Weasleys, I imagine that has to do with appeasing a certain Gryffindor."

It always came back to Potter. Motioning for her to follow, he led her into a room and shut the door. "After your theory of poisoning, I rechecked my blood more extensively and noticed an irregularity in it that is shared with another." Her eyes gleamed and he knew she assumed that the other was Potter. She didn't voice her thoughts, just waited for him to continue.

"I intend," he said, "to collect samples from everyone at the party and compare them."

Pulling back her sea green shawl, she exposed her pale, skinny upper arm. "Take my sample." As he drew her blood, she asked, "How are things between you and Harry?"

"Hmm." The lids on her eyes dropped down and she examined Severus from the corners of her eyes. "You are more relaxed than when I last saw you. He's tamed you somewhat."

"Please, Severus." She shook her head, an amused smile on her lips. "I've been married over twenty years. It is impossible to tame another without becoming a bit tame yourself. No matter what he did, you'd never kill him."

"Nonsense." Severus snapped the lid on the vial in place, marked it, and tucked it in his robes. "If he threatened to become a Dark Lord, I'd kill him."

Her eyebrows arched. "Would you? I've always been under the impression that you would sacrifice the entire world to save him."

He had thought of it. When he'd first learnt of Dumbledore's plans, he'd considered focusing on protecting the boy at all costs—keeping him alive no matter what the sacrifice. However, in the end, he had given the boy up. He had chosen to sacrifice Harry for the sake of the wizarding world. "I may have problems with my memory, but yours is terrible. I did allow him to die."

"Did you not research everything you could about old magic after Lily's death saved her only child? You had to have known that he wouldn't die."

Severus had suspected Dumbledore had a plan to keep Potter alive, but he'd not trusted it enough to believe that the boy would make it through the ordeal alive. There had been too many things that could go wrong, too many complications. Besides, the certain combination of events necessary to save Potter's life had resulted from dumb luck rather than meticulous planning. Severus had supported Harry's sacrifice because he'd known it was what Lily would've wanted, rather than because he'd believed it was best course of action. Still, if Narcissa or any others believed that he had been clever enough to manipulate the whole situation to save the boy's life, there was no reason to disabuse her—or anyone else—of that notion. He pretended to be caught, and she smirked in triumph.

"Come with me," she said, threading a thin arm through his. "Mingle with your guests. We've missed you, and I know Lucius would love to hear your opinion on Professor Treadwell."

She meant she wanted to hear him rip the new Potions Master to pieces for the reason that the man wasn't a Slytherin. As he had collected most of the samples he needed, he let her lead him out to the gardens where Lucius stood off to one side, conversing with....

Severus nearly stumbled over his feet. It wasn't just that the two of them were talking, considering what Lucius had done to Potter and the Weasley girl during the war, but that Potter was smiling as he talked to Lucius. It wasn't the watery smile that never reached his eyes that he gave to reporters or people at work, either. It was a genuine smile, as if he found Lucius a pleasant conversation partner.

As Lucius's posture directed him to the house more than Potter's, he noticed Narcissa and Severus before Potter did and gave a nod of recognition. Still chatting, Potter glanced over to see to whom Lucius had nodded. His smile widened into a grin.

When Severus approached close enough for speech, Potter asked, "Decided to emerge from your lab?"

With a smile, Narcissa said, "I had the man cornered for a bit, but I had to bring him over to discuss the new Potions teacher."

Potter chuckled. "The new Quidditch coach is Slytherin, so it's not as if the ratio of Slytherins to Gryffindors has gone down."

"Quidditch," said Narcissa, as if Potter had personally offended her by suggesting the two positions were equivalent, "is not a subject, nor is a coach a professor."

"That is true," said Harry, although he said it in such a way that Severus suspected he didn't believe his words. "Well, I must be off to check on the drinks." Glancing at Lucius, he said, "I'll owl you later." Lucius nodded and Potter strode off, brushing past Severus as he walked away. Severus inhaled the fragrance. The smell of that perfect perfume lingered even after the boy had worked his way to the other side of the lawn to chat with Fred and George.

"Don't be so quick to dismiss the idea of a Slytherin coach," said Lucius. "He won us the Quidditch Cup last year."

"Really?" asked Severus. He had always enjoyed watching Quidditch for the sole reason of supporting his team. It was the only time he ever wore colours.

Nodding, Lucius said, "The first victory since the Dark Lord's defeat. Hufflepuff has been strong."

Giving a loud 'tsk' of displeasure, Narcissa readjusted her shawl. She never could stand the sport, even before she began to worry about Draco injuring himself. Although Severus wanted to hear more about the Slytherin victory, he said, "I hear Neville Longbottom is training to take Professor Sprout's position. The castle will now be overrun with Gryffindors."

"I agree," said Lucius with a shake of his head. "Perhaps you should take up teaching again."

"Dealing with one child is miserable enough. I have no desire to try to teach an entire room full of insufferable brats ever again."

Narcissa plucked a champagne glass off a salver carried around by a house-elf. "Lucius hoped he would be able to convince the new you of what he couldn't convince the old."

He couldn't help but smile. Trust Lucius to try to take advantage of years of lost memories. "There are some parts of me that will never change."

"Of course," said Lucius with a slow nod of his head. "But no one yet knows what those parts are. Not even you."

11:23 PM

Harry was standing in the foyer, wrapped in the arms of the Weasley slut who seemed determined to prove herself half-cephalopod with how often she could be found attached to one of his appendages. If Potter minded the inordinate amount of attention, he didn't show it. Severus supposed it would be rude to chastise the twit in front of her brother and sister-in-law, with whom Potter shared goodbyes.

When Mr. and Mrs. Granger-Weasley disappeared in a flash of green, she was the only house guest left. Severus inched closer to listen in to their conversation.

"Right," she said, shrugging out of Potter's arm, and flashing him a smile. "By the way, Adam should be finished with training camp soon. What do you say the three of us go on a date?"

Harry smiled. "I'd love that. I've not gone out in ... well, a really long time."

"I know!" She hugged him tightly. "Time to return to the land of the living, love. By the way, did you enjoy your party?"

"You're welcome. Congratulations again on turning twenty-four! You'll catch up to him in only twenty more years!"

Hidden in the shadows, Severus curled his fingers into fists. Why the hell was he going out on 'dates'? He should not be spending so much time with his ex-girlfriend! Did Potter think that he was fine with sharing? He wasn't. He wasn't that same man he'd been before. He wanted Potter all to himself.

Potter turned on his heel and strode back towards the garden. Intercepting him on his path, Severus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the parlour.

"Are you determined to drive me mad?" he asked, glaring and shoving Potter against the wall, drinking in the scent of him. "Don't pretend that you care for me when you're off cavorting with others."

Tightening his grip on Potter's arm, Severus growled, "You don't even deny the charge?"

"It's ludicrous!" Potter pushed off the wall, twisting his arm to try to pull it out of Severus's grasp. The brat was trying to pretend he'd not done anything wrong!

His heart pounding in his ears, Severus grabbed at Potter's neck and they fell, landing in a tangle of limbs. Severus rolled on top of Potter, grabbing his shoulders and pinning him face down on the carpet. Potter jerked his hips up, knocking Severus off. On his hands and knees, he scrambled away. Severus lunged forward and tackled him, knocking him flat.

Making another grab for Potter's neck, he missed and instead, came away clutching a handful of robes. Potter slithered out of them, leaving Severus holding cloth but nothing more.

Severus charged at him, casting spells to one side of Potter, forcing him to dodge into Severus's path.

"Accio wand!" Potter called, his hand stretched towards his discarded robes. It caught in the mess of cloth and Severus grabbed it, shoving it in his robes. Idiot.

Potter blinked at him, his eyes wide behind his crooked glasses. His cheeks were pink, flushed with alcohol.

His hand darting as if catching a Snitch, Potter's hand shot down to yank the laces open on his dress shoes. Unable to contain his own hurry, Severus marched over, bent down, and tore at Potter's shirt.

Severus ignored him, slicing through Potter's belt with a cutting spell and yanking off his trousers and boxers, even though Potter hadn't finished with his shoes.

"Oh god." Potter's fingers fumbled with his shoes, one hand shooting up to grab onto Severus's hair. He yanked Severus down, pressing his soft, warm lips against Severus's.

Severus bit him. Potter made a noise, tugging so hard on the hair he had captured, Severus thought he might pull it from his scalp. Growling his displeasure, Severus lapped up the salty, sweet taste of Potter. Blood mixed with sweat, it tasted better than it smelt and he plunged his tongue deeper into the lax mouth beneath him.

Potter made a noise of hunger, his incandescent eyes latched onto Severus's. His hand disappeared from Severus's hair and joined the other pushing at Severus's robes, scrambling over his buttons.

Severus grabbed the searching hands and pinned them to the floor. Pulling back to get a better view of Potter's face, he kneed his way between Potter's legs and rocked his lower body against Potter's hard cock. Pink seared the boy's cheeks and he gasped, his head flopping back. "Oh yes!"

He would fuck him. He would prove to the slut that he owned him. Potter was his, and his alone.

"Oh yes! Yes! Fuck me!" Potter's knees shot up, rising towards his chest, his bare feet high in the air. "Fuck me!"

Bending down, Severus nipped at his lips before tasting his collarbone. "That's what you want, isn't it?" he asked, biting at the juncture of Potter's shoulder and neck.

Severus kissed the skin softly. Potter moaned, his body melting along with his resistance.

Lifting a hand and his hips, Severus trailed his fingers down Potter's neck. His fingers slid through the diamond of dark hair on Harry's chest, journeyed over his well-defined abdomen, dipped into his belly button, and finally closed around Potter's hard, dripping cock.

"Tell me what you want," Severus ordered, squeezing hard on the red, swollen bit of flesh.

Potter licked his lips, his eyes never leaving Severus's. "I want you to fuck me," he said, his lips curling up in an almost-snarl. "I want your huge cock deep in my arse."

Potter's hips rose up, his cock sliding in and out of Severus's hand. "I want you to fuck me hard. I don't want to be able to think about anything but your cock filling my arse. I want you." Potter stared up at him, the brilliant green of his eyes almost eclipsed by the size of his lust-filled pupils.

His. Potter was his to possess and control—to do anything he wanted to. He had never wanted anyone this much. With Lily there hadn't been this need to devour and dominate, to have the object of his obsession only and entirely for himself. He'd been furious when she married Potter, but he would never have punished her for it. But this was different. Harry was his. It was not unreasonable to expect—no, demand—fidelity.

Potter should have refused Scott. He should have insisted that Severus was, and always would be, more than enough for him.

"Fuck me," moaned Potter, his back arching, his fingers curling in Severus's hair. "Fuck me!"

He couldn't resist, not any longer. He released Potter's other hand and sat back, his fingers flying over the buttons of his trousers. Potter shot to his knees and hurried to help free Severus's cock from its confines. He bent forward, his warm hand closing around Severus's dick. In a matter of seconds, he had Severus's whole length stuffed down his throat, greedy slurping sounds emerging as he bobbed his head.

Fuck! Potter's mouth was amazing! Grabbing a fistful of dark hair, Severus thrust his hips, fucking that red mouth and shoving his prick as far down the boy's throat as he could. Potter made choking noises. He grabbed Severus's thighs and tried to push away, but Severus tightened his grip and forced Potter's mouth hard up against his groin, determined to finish off deep in his throat. "Suck it!"

A Stinging Hex struck the hand holding Harry's head in place and he released the hair with a hiss. Potter crab-walked backward until he was out of arm's reach, his eyes glaring. He wiped his mouth on his hand and announced, "I won't have sex with you if you don't stop hurting me." He stood, tall and straight, his shoulders back. "Knock it off."

He would not be spoken to like that! Not by Potter. Severus glared at him. "You'll do what I tell you to do."

Potter shook, his jaw and hands clenching. He stared at Severus for a moment, his face tight, then spat out, "Fuck you, arsehole! I'm leaving," and marched towards the doors.

Severus slammed the doors shut with one spell, sealing them with another. He advanced on Potter, his wand out and ready should the boy attempt to escape.

"Accio wand!" screamed Potter, his arm out-stretched towards Severus's outer robes. His wand couldn't penetrate through the magical barriers Severus had placed on the fabric.

"You're mine." Severus grabbed his arm, ignoring the Stinging Hex Potter cast on his hand. With his other hand, he tried to grab his neck, but Potter jerked out of the way, Severus's fingers scratching at the skin at the nape of the boy's neck.

The boy didn't attempt to fight him—he pressed his neck into Severus's hands, his eyes closing.

Another scratch at the back of the neck and he was as docile as a house-elf. Severus dragged Potter over to the sofa and shoved him back against the cushions.

"Stop it!" Kicking out his legs, Potter's feet hit Severus's abdomen, almost knocking the wind out of him and nearly tumbling him headfirst into a table. Fuck! The little shit could kick hard. Severus stormed forward. Potter swung and struck Severus's Shield Charm. Severus pulled it down long enough to cast Immobulus, but Potter somehow managed to jump up on the cushions, punching again, his fist finding Severus's jaw.

Stumbling back, Severus swore and raised a hand to his chin. He'd never been hit so hard in his life. He gingerly felt for a broken bone, but everything seemed to be intact even though the pain turned his vision red and he could barely see. He would kill the brat!

"Are you all right?" The blurriness that was Potter stood. "Would you like a healing potion? I'm sorry.... I didn't mean to hurt you."

He would not admit his pain to the arrogant slut. "How dare you!" He marched over to Potter, grabbed him by the arm, and shoved him lengthwise, face first into the cushions, pushing his face into the armrest before he released him. Potter pushed himself up on his elbows and Severus grabbed the back of his neck. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay down."

Potter didn't attempt to move, his back stiff. He said, "I won't fight you anymore."

Just as Severus suspected, he'd been playing hard to get. Knocking one of Potter's knees off the sofa, Severus climbed between his spread legs and grabbed his arse, hauling it up. Potter tucked his head down. He wanted it.

Reaching into his robes, Severus grabbed a vial of burn salve, the only potion he had at hand that could be used as lubrication, and popped off the cork. He poured it down Potter's crack, the oil dripping off his balls. A splash on the tip of his cock was just what he needed. One- two- three strokes of his cock and he was hard enough to penetrate, his desire overwhelming the pain radiating from his cheek. Maneuvering his cock to press his glans up against Potter's pucker, he held the boy in place with his other hand.

Pushing forward, he pulled back on Potter's hip, determined to break through the tight band of flesh. It resisted his entry, clamping down even further if that was possible. Potter hissed at the pressure. Severus almost expected Parseltongue to emerge, but it never came. He Summoned the bottle back to himself and poured more lube over his cock to avoid splitting his foreskin. Repositioning himself, he lined his cock up against the soft pucker. Severus pressed his hips firmly forward, his cock head trying to pierce through the opening, but Potter's body still resisted him. With a growl, Severus gripped Potter's hips with both hands, and fiercely yanked him back. Finally, like a cork released from a wine bottle, his glans popped through the impossibly small ring of muscle. Potter pressed his head against the cushion and a small sound escaped his throat. The sweat on his shoulders gleamed, catching in the candlelight.

Slowly, savouring every delicious moment, Severus rocked his hips, watching his cock disappear ever further as he buried himself deeper into Potter's heat. The warmth from Potter's body surged through his own, leaving him lightheaded and his toes tingling. Deeper and deeper he drove himself, the slide becoming easier with each forward push. Merlin, the boy was tight, tighter than he'd ever gripped himself with his hand in self-pleasure.

Potter said not a word. His breath came in huge ragged gulps of air, and the leg on the floor shook as if supporting his weight took every bit of effort. Grabbing onto his waist, Severus plunged in with extra force, his balls snapping against Potter's.

Holding the boy still, Severus bent over him, his hair sliding over Potter's shoulders. He pounded into him, rocking them both forward. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Potter moaned with each thrust smacking hard against his arse. "No. Not ... like this."

After such pliant submission, the slag still wanted to pretend that he didn't want Severus, even though he had begged for it a hundred times before. "Don't lie to me, Potter. You begged me for this, you cockslut." He grabbed Potter's hair, yanking his head back and making Potter's mouth drop open. "You wanted this."

He always lied. If he really hated it, he would stop it. He was strong enough—both physically and magically—to end the sex if he wanted. Scoffing, Severus released his hair and shoved Potter's head forward. The stupid whore didn't know what he wanted! Severus fucked him roughly. "No, you don't," he sneered, emphasizing his point with a particularly forceful snap of his hips. "You wouldn't let me do this to you if you did."

"I didn't—A- Ah!— you'd- actually-" His fingers tightened in the cushions. In a louder voice he said, "I hate you."

It made no sense, but Potter never did. Focusing on his own pleasure, he fucked Potter harder and concentrated on the firm clench of the boy's body around his cock, and the smooth, gripping slide in and out of his hot channel. Harder and deeper he plunged, shifting position, trying to drive into Potter to elicit the most sounds from his throat—whether from pain or pleasure he didn't care.

Merlin, the boy was far too tight and hot for him to hold out for long. He increased the speed of his thrusts, his body tense and pressed hard against Potter's. Each inhale of the heady scent that seemed to radiate with the boy's heat drove him closer and closer to the edge. The taut grasp of the boy's arse, the slide of his cock taking Potter, owning him, it became all too much. The pressure that had been gathering into a heated ball in his groin coalesced into one tension-filled force demanding to be released.

Biting down on Potter's shoulder hard enough to draw blood, Severus came with a grunt. His body convulsed against Potter's, his hips driving forward even more roughly to bury his cock deeper to plant his seed, claiming Potter as his, and his alone. Potter shuddered under him, but said nothing.

As soon as Severus had left his back, Potter curled his legs under his body, scooting towards the armrest of the sofa.

Running a hand down the tightly muscled back, Severus curled his other hand around Potter's upper arm and tugged. Ripping his arm out of Severus's grasp, Potter spat, "Don't touch me."

"I'm fine," said Potter, his head still turned away. "Give me my wand and leave."

"What?" Potter whirled around, his eyes partially hidden behind the glare on his glasses. Severus shifted to get a better view of the boy's eyes, but he wasn't crying—to the contrary—the green was dull and flat.

Potter scoffed. "You can't heal this." He held out his hand. "Accio clothes!" The bundle of clothing left on the floor jumped to his hand.

"Nonsense. I am a Potions Master." Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a healing potion, along with the wand. "If you drink this-"

Potter shot out a hand, snatching both wand and potion. "You don't get it." He tore off the lid and quaffed down half the bottle. "You can't heal everything with potions." Replacing the lid, he tossed the bottle to the side. Pulling out his shirt from the bundle of clothing in his lap, he slipped it on. "You were right."

"About what?" asked Severus, watching as the bite mark on Potter's lower lip faded until it was a shadow of what it had been.

"You aren't him." Potter pulled on his trousers, wincing as he stood and buttoned them. "If my Severus saw how you just treated me...." Gathering up the rest of his clothing, he straightened his back, stared Severus in the eyes and said, "...he'd kill you."

"I don't." Potter hugged his clothing tight to his chest, his lips pinched. "I always knew you had it in you to be a heartless, sadistic bastard. But ever since our first duel back at Hogwarts, you've always been careful not to hurt me. You've never hurt me just for the fun of it. Not once. Not ever."

Severus inhaled sharply at the accusation. Potter was right. He had no excuse for what he had just done to the boy. How could he explain the Scott situation to him without looking mad? There was nothing he could say.

Shaking his head, Potter said, "When you're ready to grow up and stop bullying me, let me know." He left the room, unsealing the doors with a swift, simple spell, and slamming them shut behind him.

Severus dropped into a chair. He couldn't summon the ire for Potter's insults because they were justified. He had always thought himself better than his father, better than the Marauders, but he had picked on Potter for no reason other than because, in some way, it had given him pleasure. He had mistaken the boy's patience and caring for weakness, and had punished the very person who would have been his greatest alley for no other reason than because he could. In the cold light of hindsight, his anger over Scott made no sense at all.

Gazing around the empty room, he ran through the events of the night, reviewing his actions in the hope of finding any justification for what he had done. As he watched in his mind's eye Potter drinking the healing potion, a thought occurred to him that shot him straight to his feet. Potter had a large collection of sleeping potions, including Dreamless Sleep. In combination with the healing potion he had just taken, it could leave Potter out cold for over twelve hours. Although tomorrow was Sunday, and it was unlikely Potter would be called into work, Sunday would be the day when Potter went on his bi-monthly Diagon Alley trip to pick up the potion supplies that couldn't be ordered by post.

Severus hurried to Potter's room. He knew his presence wouldn't be well-received after what had happened, but he had to speak to him. Knocking, he said, "I need to talk to you about your medication."

Knocking louder, Severus used a Sonorus to penetrate through the door. "I need to talk to you. You should only take certain sleeping potions!"

Frustrated, Severus pushed open the door. Not a single magical or Muggle barrier prevented him from entering the room. The room was dark, the bed made. There was no sign of Potter. The bathroom proved equally empty, and all of the toiletries were in place and dry, as if Potter hadn't yet entered the room.

Severus suspected he already knew the answer, but he had to ask, "Where is Potter?"

"Master Harry left the grounds a few minutes ago." The house-elf stood tall, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

Kreacher grinned. "If Master Harry wanted the bat to know his location, he would have told the bat."

He would never learn anything useful from the house-elf. There was nowhere he could go to find Potter. He couldn't very well show up at the Granger-Weasley house in search of Potter, and he doubted the boy would ever flee to the Malfoys'—no matter how friendly they appeared in public. He couldn't get to Potter, but there was another way to warn him.

"Harry's taken a healing potion that might interact with one of his sleeping potions and cause him to sleep for more hours than usual. He needs a potion without an Alouatta hair base." Severus rummaged through his robes, but he hadn't one on him. "If he needs one of those, there are several in the lab."

Kreacher's grin had faded during the course of Severus's speech. "I'll tell Master Harry." With a loud crack, he Apparated away.

Severus returned to his room. He had no choice but to wait for Potter to return.

Monday, 2 August, 7:48 PM

Severus picked at his vegetables. What he'd eaten tasted flat and unappetising. He suspected the house-elf was punishing him for Potter's absence with terrible cooking.

"It's no use, you know," said Paracelsus. "He'll not come back unless you apologise to him."

After two days, Potter had yet to return to the house, even for dinner. Severus still didn't know where he was staying, but that didn't bother him as much as the fact that Potter didn't return for their customary meals. He had got used to having the boy around to talk to in the evenings and the portraits tended to get on his nerves. As if knowing that Harry wouldn't be around to converse with her, Emilie never showed up. Severus glanced at Paracelsus. "You assume it was my fault."

It was. He couldn't deny it. But Potter would return—eventually. It was his house, after all.

Without Potter's aid, Severus finished the next batch of commissions and sent them on their way soon after dinner. With nothing else to occupy his time, he re-tested the blood he had obtained from the party. No one else's sample exhibited the strange bioluminescence he had observed after testing his and Endell's blood. Even more peculiar, his freshly-drawn sample glowed with half the brightness of his blood from his previous test, and the samples he had gathered from the Ministry showed no bioluminescence at all.

Although several potions which contained Armillaria glowed green, Severus could find no reference in the literature on why Armillaria bioluminesced in some potions, but not others. Why no one else had investigated the matter seemed bizarre to him. That was the problem with the wizarding world: too much acceptance and not enough questioning.

No matter, he would solve the mystery. Selecting six potions that were as identical as possible, three which glowed and three which did not, he prepared the cauldrons. All six of the potions could be brewed in about two hours time and they all required similar ingredient preparation and amounts, temperature, stirring methods and other specific conditions. There were differences, of course, that could not be avoided, but he had no other way of determining why Armillaria glowed.

There was no way he could complete all six on his own without using magic to aid his brewing, something which would throw off the results of his experiments, but he had no other way to complete his tests without waiting for Potter to return and join him in the lab again—something that might never happen. Although it would make his life considerably easier, he would not acquiesce to Potter.

Although Potter wasn't the best assistant, the lab felt oddly silent without him. The boy didn't talk much, but it was rare that an hour went by without a question or two, and the thunk of a knife against the board was a nice backdrop noise to the work of stirring. Severus supposed there was no point in dwelling on it now. He cast Potter from his mind and turned his attention back to brewing.

Using magic to stir the other cauldrons while he focused on one at a time, he attempted to give each as much hands on attention as possible but it was difficult, especially since some required far more work than others. They all glowed bright green by the time he finished and, as he examined the results, each of the six was a perfect example of that particular potion. The Befuddlement Draught was a bit brighter than Severus had seen it before, but he had spent the least amount of time stirring that directly and-

Of course! All of these potions required high levels of magic, and, the more magic cast, the more the Armillaria glowed. Moving over to the least bright potion, Severus cast spell after spell until the Armillaria's green was as brilliant as the first.

But what did it mean? Despite the belief of many fervent Death Eaters, magical ability did not vary among individuals. Severus knew he was powerful in his ability, but he doubted he had more raw power than Potter, any of the Malfoys, or even the Weasleys. Endell's genius in magic had been due to his inventiveness and willingness rather than magical strength. Moreover, Severus's blood's reaction was declining with time, and, if it were a representation of natural power, his magic was draining too, but it wasn't.

Just as he had suspected earlier, he and Endell had both been poisoned. There was no other reason to explain why they both had the same bizarre reaction in their blood. Either they'd taken the same poison—built up over months to ensure levels high enough to cause such a huge reaction—or the cure had required high and regular levels of magically complex potions. The 'T. Potion 5' he had prescribed himself had too many unrecognisable ingredients for him to know if that was responsible. He knew it contained his blood and Tegmark flowers, but nothing more.

Sometimes it seemed as though for every answer he uncovered, ten more questions came along with it.

By the time he had finished cleaning his lab, it was well into the early hours of the morning. Severus retired to his bedroom after checking to be sure Potter hadn't returned home.

Stretching out on the bed, Severus picked up his copy of Wuthering Heights. Like Heathcliff, he had taken revenge for the sins of the parents on the child. Just like Heathcliff, it had only ended badly for him. Punishing Harry for James and Lily had done nothing but bring him misery, and he no longer needed to do it to maintain his disguise, so why had he done it? He had no explanation for himself other than a jealousy that had lasted all these years afterward.

Flipping through the pages, he came to rest on Heathcliff's reaction to Catherine's death—one of his favourite parts in the book, especially when he'd been younger. He had felt Heathcliff's otherworldly despair on the night Lily died. There, near the middle of the page was Heathcliff's impassioned speech in which he had cried, 'I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'

Shooting over to the edge of the bed, Severus hauled up his outer robes and searched through them for the scrap of paper. Pulling it out he re-read the words: The truth—it is unutterable! On the other side, the number sequence: 11-3-20-20-14-2-3-4-11-9-7-21-14-5-12-15-1-4-17-10-11-3-6-14-5-12-16-9-9-19.

Fetching a blank scroll, he copied the numbers out and tried various sequences. At first he thought the sequence began with 'it is unutterable', but after hours of trying, he had not uncovered the code. He paced about the room, muttering the line in his head over and over again. Perhaps he should find the next instance of the word 'truth' and start there?

Yes, there it was! Not until he started with 'I cannot live...', the very next line, and applied a new number to each introduced letter did a sensible pattern emerge. When each number written on the parchment had its own letter, the sequence read: H-A-R-R-Y-C-A-N-H-E-L-P-Y-O-U-F-I-N-D-W-H-A-T-Y-O-U-S-E-E-K Harry can help you find what you seek.

How could he have been so stupid? Before he nearly died, he had placed Wuthering Heights on the bedside table in his bedroom with the expectation that the book would immediately come to mind as a key to the code. It was his favourite bloody book! He'd not read it in ages, but he should have remembered that line. Even worse, he had known that he would act this way if he recovered with memory loss, and had attempted to warn himself of the dangers of dismissing Harry. Perhaps that was why everyone pestered him about his relationship with the boy? He'd known he would reject Potter, and had taken every single step to ensure that it wouldn't be easy.

Severus had always known he had been wrong to treat Potter the way he did, but never had the full implications settled on him as they did now. He rubbed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall to stare at the ceiling. He had been so careful to protect Harry from everyone—even from himself. Maybe that was why he'd hidden the truth about his illness from himself. If he were forced to rely on Harry to gain answers, he would remain in his company rather than leaving.

He looked down at the parchment in his hands. Harry can help you find what you seek. Not 'may' or more importantly, not 'will'. He had known Harry had a breaking point and if pushed that far, Harry (no matter how patient he was), would refuse to offer him any aid.

He needed Harry back. If he was to solve this puzzle of his past, he required the boy's aid. There was no way around the fact; it was what he had wanted, even if he had no memory of ever wanting it.

Wednesday, 4 August, 6:25 PM

When the chime sounded, Severus dropped everything. He even left the Papio Potion on the fire, even though he knew it would be ruined if he stayed away too long. Only he and Harry had permission to enter through the Floo. Either Harry had just returned home, or he'd returned earlier and had invited a guest.

Arriving in the foyer, he found Harry hanging up his travel cloak. Without knowing Harry, he had no way of guessing what had prompted the return. Had he got over his anger? Or was he refusing to be ejected from his own house, even by self-isolation?

Harry turned around, his eyes narrowed, his face a mask that reminded Severus all too much of his own. His hard eyes stared at Severus with a coldness so intense, Severus knew more than Stinging Hexes would be cast his way should he try to touch Harry.

"I know what you're doing," said Harry, "and it won't work. I don't doubt that you'll heal me. You've always been capable of ripping me to pieces in one breath, and jumping in front of me to protect me from a spell in the next. Showing me that you have the ability to protect me doesn't make up for being an arsehole."

"Am I supposed to turn a blind eye when you do something dangerous?" He could never stop protecting Harry—it had become instinctual for him.

"No." Harry shook his head slowly. "I don't mind you protecting me. But contrary to what you might think, I don't need a protector, father figure, or teacher. I need a partner, but you've not behaved like one at all. You treated me like rubbish for no reason other than because you could. You called me names, held me down, and sexually assaulted me on my birthday, when all I did was tell you how much I wanted to have sex with you." His jaw clenched. "You will treat me with respect—as an equal—or I'll not have anything to do with you outside of work."

It was such a simple, basic ultimatum, he could see no reason to argue. He would have expected the very same himself had their roles been reversed. Besides, even if Harry refused to be anything more than a co-worker, Severus was still obtaining what he most needed. "Very well."

Harry pulled a parchment out of one of his robe pockets. "The Weasley twins gave me a list of their commissions. I can't brew them on my own. I'll need your help creating the potions." He glanced at Severus expectantly.

Ah, there it was. Harry had returned, not to renew their relationship, but because he wanted Severus's aid. Many men had sought to use him in his life, but never Harry. After how subservient Harry had been, it was a surprise, but not exactly an unwelcome one. Being desired for his usefulness as a Potions Master made far more sense than being wanted for sex. He could not deny him, not when he needed him as well. Severus nodded. "I'll help you."

Nodding, Harry turned and marched off towards the potions lab, Severus following. "The one that they're most interested in is the hair dye. They've been trying to develop a hair dye that changes colour based on moods. When people are happy, it works perfectly, but as soon as anger or sadness strikes, the colour takes forever to change. One of their test subjects got in a row with his girlfriend last week while wearing the product, and his hair is still dark red. They think it has to do with the fact that darker emotions show up in darker colours and it's easier to go from light to dark than from dark to light."

"Is the potion topical?" asked Severus as he caught up, and kept pace with Harry's quick step.

"Yes. They'd love for us to develop one that can be ingested, but they weren't sure how to target specific types of hair. Some people liked the idea of their eyebrows and body hair changing colours, but most people wanted the changes to be restricted to scalp hair. That's another thing they want us to work on. It's hard because, as you know, hair is dead. Not only do we need an agent to force the potion out through the hair, but we need the agent to discriminate between types of hair." He shrugged before he pushed open the door of the lab. "It may be impossible."

Severus set about clearing the remains of his previous work as Harry spread out scrolls on a worktable. As Severus cleaned out the cauldrons, he asked, "How important is it that eyebrows or beards don't change?"

Running a finger over his lips as he thought, Severus said, "We could force the potion to only activate above the neck. It would flow to the edges of the hair, but only dye hair that had follicles planted in the head. It would dye the eyebrow and other facial hair as well, but it may be the best we can do. Targeted effects are accomplished with healing potions." Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Severus carried on, "I know, different class of potions, but we used cosmetics to heal spattergroit, so there's no reason we can't use the ideas behind healing potions to fix cosmetics."

"Let's see...." Harry wandered over to the shelves of bases. "I think a mineral base is our best option. Silicate perhaps?"

"Yes, let's start with kaolinite," suggested Severus. "It's stable and works best at low temperature brewing, which would be ideal for this type of potion."

Selecting the jar from the shelf, Harry carried it to the work table nearest the largest fire pit. Severus moved toward him on his way to collect ingredients himself, but Harry shifted away, as if he couldn't stand to even be within ten feet of Severus. He kept his physical distance all throughout the brewing session, avoiding Severus's eyes as well. Although he didn't hesitate to ask and answer questions, give suggestions, or announce the potion states, he only spoke when absolutely necessary and even then, used abrupt, concise words.

The distance Harry kept between them didn't bother Severus too much. It would just take some time to get used to. In any case, Harry had returned home, and that was all that mattered.

Friday, 6 August, 9:54 PM

When Harry didn't show up for dinner yet again, Severus acted as if it didn't matter to him whether Potter attended or not. Paracelsus bemoaned the 'fate of the house' while Phineas just said, "You always have to make the same mistakes over and over again."

A Silencing Spell gave Severus the peace he required, and he ate while poring over the notes Harry had given him about all the potions they'd developed since forming their company. He hoped there were clues that could give him an idea about the 'T. Potion 5', but there was nothing. Had Harry investigated the T. Potion series? It wasn't mentioned in any of the scrolls Severus sorted through, but he had been given so many, and it seemed unlikely that Harry could remember everything.

After dinner, he found Harry in the office of the potions lab, doing paperwork. Still wearing his Auror robes, he glanced up once when Severus walked in, then returned to his work.

"I need," Severus told him, "to see the information you have on the T. Potion series."

The quill stopped mid-sentence and Harry lifted his head, staring at Severus with an unrecognizable expression in his eyes. For a heavy moment, they simply stared at each other.

This was getting nowhere. Severus tried again. "You do have information, don't you?"

Setting down his quill as though he suspected it might explode at any moment, Harry leant back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap.

In a controlled tone, Harry said, "Here's how this will work. I've agreed to be your co-worker. I've not agreed to more."

He knew Harry was angry about what had happened between them, but he'd not thought he'd destroyed their relationship to the point where Harry wouldn't help him at all outside of the potions lab. If Harry had hated the sex so much, why had he allowed it to happen? "You-"

Harry raised his hand, stopping Severus. "This isn't to say that I'm unwilling to give you the information you desire, but that it comes with a price. If you want to know something, ask me a question. For each question you ask, you'll take off an article of clothing in exchange for the answer."

He would never strip naked while Potter wore clothes. Never! "That's ridiculous!"

Raising an eyebrow, Harry said, "I didn't say that to you when you told me to strip in front of the portraits."

"Why? Because I'm supposed to naturally strip on command? I'm not your slave. I've been careful to treat you like a wounded, wild animal." He held up a hand, ticking off each comment with a finger. "No fast movements, let him feel in control, show deference when he gets angry, display intentions clearly.... I see now what a load of rubbish that plan was. Even Buckbeak gave me respect when I gave it to him, and he let me ride him. Instead, you just took it as an invitation to stomp all over me.

"Either apologise completely and sincerely for being a complete bastard, or strip for your answers. The choice is yours." Harry sat as still, stony, and cold as a marble statue, waiting for an answer.

The little shit. He had trained him too well—there was no way the boy he had known at Hogwarts would have dreamt up such a situation entirely on his own. Both options were abhorrent and Harry had to know that. "I'll agree to remove my clothes in exchange for receiving answers to my questions, provided that you do the same." At least if they were both naked, he wouldn't be as vulnerable.

His eyes never leaving Severus's, Harry shook his head. "I have no questions I want to ask you."

"As you have so often stated," said Harry with a quirk of his mouth, "you're not him. Not now, and you might not ever be. Besides, I already know all the basics about you. As for anything beyond that, why should I care when you've made it very clear you have no desire for anything else?"

"You rarely entirely discount anything. I'll wager you've not completely dismissed the idea of killing me should it prove to be necessary."

He had argued the same to Narcissa, but now, as he gazed at the bastard with eyes as hard as his own, he still could not dredge up the anger he would've felt if anyone else tried to force him naked. Even at his worst, even during the times when he had hurt Harry, he had never wanted him dead. Bruised, bleeding, crying, yes, but never dead. It was the primary reason he had been intent on suicide.

"I may have lost my memories," he said quietly. "But there are some parts of me that will never change."

Harry's eyes softened. Standing, he walked around the desk to pause before Severus. His exquisite eyes had a shadow upon them—a look of such haunted longing that Severus wanted to reach out and stroke the back of his neck until he turned into a melted puddle of happiness.

"There's too much that has," said Harry. "Sometimes, I don't recognise you at all." Softly shaking his head, he turned and left the room, the door shutting behind him.

Sunday, 15 August, 8:05 PM

A knock on the door of the potions lab interrupted Severus in the middle of brewing. Harry had stopped knocking a while back, and the rap of knuckles wasn't his heavy, confident tap. Turning down the fire, Severus opened the door to reveal the house-elf.

With a pinched face that looked as though he had stumbled onto a cache of rotten eggs, Kreacher said, "Master Harry will have guests over today."

"Very well," said Severus, wondering why Potter hadn't bothered to come tell him himself. Although they'd not yet regained the casual intimacy that had characterized their interactions before sex, Harry had always been polite, and they'd not argued since the conflict in the office. The guests were probably Weasleys—he never could stand the Weasleys.

Kreacher stood in the open door without saying anything, his eyes narrowed at Severus as if he were casting curses with them. Sometimes, Severus suspected that the only reason the house-elf hadn't tried to kill him was because Harry refused to allow it.

"Have you something to say?" asked Severus, crossing his arms and staring down his nose.

As Severus's work on the hair dye salve did not progress nearly as fast without Harry's help, he soon returned to an activity that took up less and less of his time: trying to uncover the mystery of his past. The more he ruminated on the subject, the more he supposed that his other self had destroyed his notes and allowed Harry to do all the research for the sole purpose of forcing his future—or was it his past?—self to rely on the boy for information. It was just the sort of manipulative, conniving thing that he would do.

Reaching into the most protected, secretive pocket in his robes, he pulled out the wooden box. He could not open it. He'd not tried destruction spells yet, but he suspected that if he tried Fiendfyre, he would destroy it rather than open it. If his growing suspicions were correct, he could not open the box—only Harry could. The thought that he would have to go and beg Potter for help filled his stomach with stone and set his jaw tight.

But if he had loved Harry, then he would have done everything in his power to protect him, and make sure that the Severus Snape who developed after the memories vanished would be one who would love Harry as well. There was no better way to do that than to force the two of them to work together: to be sure that he could not learn about his own past unless he involved himself with and trusted Harry. That meant that he would have to ask Harry for help. His past self had ensured that his future self would be reliant on Harry.

Still, he would not prostrate himself unless it proved unavoidable. He had to be sure that he had loved Harry. Harry had given evidence for that straightaway, but Severus had ignored it, leaving the photobook and vial of memories in the tower. The letters he had found in Harry's trunk had shown that he had cared for Harry more than he'd thought, but they didn't suggest the level of devotion that would require him to frustrate himself in order to make sure that he and Harry stayed together. He needed to go to the tower, even though the garden was probably now crawling with Weasleys.

Casting concealment charms on himself and the Pensieve that floated behind him, he ventured out of his lab into an obnoxiously bright day. As expected, the courtyard before the tower was full of gingers and their admirers. Not only were Ginevra, the twins, and Ronald in attendance, but William and Percy had joined the crowd as well. Ginevra sipped tea with the other women: Granger, Fleur Delacour, Angelina Johnson, and a woman Severus did not recognise. Upon Granger's lap sat one of Delacour and William's children, the other daughter resting in a pram beside the table, above which Ginevra manipulated conjured birds to flit about.

The men, including Harry and Adam, gathered near one of the pools. The small ginger boy, whose parents Severus had yet to determine, hung off of Potter as if the man were a tree, and he a monkey.

It took Severus longer to get to the tower than he had anticipated, as he doubted he could pass through the courtyard without detection, and so he was forced to take one of the side paths. As the garden had been built with little sense, paths wandering into nothing, some curling into an infinitesimal point, he spent most of his time searching for a path to the tower. After half an hour, Severus gave up and flew directly towards the base. As the door faced away from the house, he didn't worry about the possibility of anyone observing him entering, although he did cast a charm on the door to give it the appearance of stillness just in case.

The first two floors of the tower consisted of nothing but supports and a staircase. Curling and progressively narrowing like a nautilus shell, the staircase lacked an external railing. Without windows, the first two floors were lit by candlelight, and the edges of the staircase near the bottom seemed to vanish off into nothingness. As with the rest of the tower, jadeite and obsidian lined the stairs and the central pillar.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Severus stepped into the room in which he had lived and wasted away for almost four months. Everything was the way he had left it, the vial and photobook on the edge of his desk.

Sweeping over, he took his seat and picked up the photobook first. Opening it to a section towards the middle, he glanced down at the page to see a wizarding photograph of himself with Harry.

They stood in front of a desert landscape Severus had never seen before and did not recognise. Rolling hills, each a different colour like pastel balls of ice cream, stretched out behind them as they stood side by side, hand in hand. Both wore matching dopey grins, Severus's small and self-satisfied, Harry's huge. A gust of wind stole Harry's hat and the boy raced after it, jumping up in the air and snatching it as if it were a Snitch.

On the opposite page, was a picture of himself gazing out across the landscape beside a sign that read 'Badwater Basin'. At nearly three hundred feet below sea level, Badwater Basin was one of the many places in Death Valley Severus had hoped to eventually visit to collect samples. The next few pages showed more pictures of the two of them at Death Valley, including a photo of himself gathering small fish from a stream.

Turning towards the back, past the Death Valley collection, Severus opened the photobook to a section where all the pictures were of Easter Island. In one of them, they both stood before one of the monoliths, Severus dressed in sombre black; Harry, crimson. As they posed, Harry's hand wiggled over to capture Severus's, but rather than pull his hand away, Severus closed his own around Harry's.

A few pages past the Easter Island collection, Harry tossed stones into a stream of bright scarlet lava, the rocks exploding like firecrackers as they hit the fiery river. Past that, Severus stood below a patch of trees full of sleeping Howler monkeys, collecting samples from the Nicaraguan rain forest. He judged the location by the freshwater bull sharks featured in the picture on the opposite page. There, lightning flashes lit up two volcanic islands in the background as Severus fed the sharks bits of raw meat off a rickety boat.

As he turned the pages, more and more adventures and locations spilt across the pages. They had apparently traveled the world together, collecting potions ingredients and enjoying the landscapes. As time progressed, they stood closer and closer together in the pictures. Towards the end of the book, they never posed without touching each other unless one of them had control of the camera. Amongst the last pictures, detailing a trip to Antarctica, Severus pulled Harry against him for a kiss. Startled at first, Harry melted into it, wrapping his arms around Severus's waist as he pressed against him to return the kiss in earnest.

Tucked behind the page with the kiss was a bit of parchment labeled with Severus's name in Harry's hand. Picking it up, Severus leant back in his chair to read. In his flowing, boisterous handwriting, Harry had written a list of fifty reasons he loved Severus. It ranged from 'I love that you support me, even when you think I'm wrong,' to 'I love the way you look with your hair in a ponytail. A lot,' to 'I love going on holiday with you.'

Since he'd woken, he'd never understood why Harry had entered into a relationship with him. Without money, looks, or power, Severus had nothing to offer a potential mate. None of that mattered to Harry. Harry had loved him without reservation simply for who he was, rather than what he had or could become.

His heart in his throat, Severus re-read the note three times before he tucked it into his robes. He returned to the photo album, his fingers lingering over the photos of the two of them together. There were so many little things he'd not noticed moments before, both on his face and on Harry's. He'd loved Harry just as feverently as Harry had loved him. Although in the earlier pictures he'd focused on the exotic landscapes and unique ingredients, as time progressed, Harry had become the focus of his world.

While the thought of Scott and Harry together still turned his stomach, each picture where Harry showed delight on his open face sent his heart fluttering, as though he himself were experiencing the joy. How could he have been so foolish to assault the one person who accepted him for who he really was?

Opening the vial of memories, he poured them into the Pensieve. After checking to be sure that no one could approach him without his awareness, he dived into the collection of memories.

Severus, wearing Muggle black trousers and an equally dark jumper, knelt in the garden, planting a batch of Alihosty. Unlike the current garden, this patch of earth was smaller, closer to the house, and did not surround a tower. Based upon the lack of tower, Severus assumed the scene before him had taken place before he he'd become ill.

A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he glanced up to see Harry meandering over, carrying a cup nearly identical to the one on the ground besides Severus's feet.

"Kreacher's made dinner," said Harry once he reached the edge of the planter box.

Not glancing up from his work, memory-Severus said, "I'll eat after I finish this."

Setting his cup besides Severus's, Harry knelt down beside him and picked up a discarded trowel. "Why don't you just do this with magic?"

Severus shook his head. "Magic is not always superior, Mr. Potter. This way I can best assess the temperature, content, and richness of the soil. Hand me that weeder."

As Harry reached for the weeder, his eyes focused on the tool, Severus switched their cups. Unlike the rest of the features of the memory, the movement of the cups was fuzzy, as though Harry wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but later guessed how and when Severus had switched them.

Oblivious to what Severus had done, Harry worked alongside him in silence. Severus only spoke to give directions, and Harry only in response to them.

After a short moment, Harry sat back on his heels and fetched the cup closest to him. Taking a large swig, he nearly spit out the contents, but forced himself to swallow it down. "Ugh, this isn't mine. What are you drinking?"

Severus's hands paused. He turned slowly, his eyes fixating on the cup as soon as it came into view. "Did you drink from that?"

Eyes darting between Severus's face and the cup, Harry set it down as if it were about to bite him. "Yes. Why?"

Severus shook his head. "Alihosty is bisexual and the males are extremely difficult to obtain. That type of sex-potion works on both humans and plants, so I decided to bring a sample to the garden to feed to half of my plants."

"It won't work," said Severus. "You can't clear it from your stomach because it works upon skin contact with humans. I'm afraid you'll be female by the end of the day."

"Don't worry." Severus sat back and brushed his hands together. "I can brew you the antidote. We just have to wait for the Amorphophallus to bloom."

Harry crossed his arms up high over his chest, as if assuring himself that no breasts had started to grow. "How long will that take?"

"What!?" Flying forward, Harry clung to Severus's arm. "You have to help me! I can't last two months as a girl! You-" He shut his mouth and stared at Severus.

"You arsehole!" Harry smacked him, but there was no strength in the hit. "You are such a fucking bastard." He released Severus's arm, sucking in a huge sigh of relief.

"And you are as gullible as ever," said Severus, still smiling. "Really ... a sex-change potion that can work on contact? And I kept it in a drinking cup?" He raised his eyebrows at Harry.

Grinning, Harry scratched his arm. "It was the lack of antidote that made me cotton on. You always have an antidote."

Falling into another, he saw himself on his bed in the tower, living through the assistance of Muggle machinery. When Scott had shown him his memory, Severus had thought that he, himself, looked ragged, but the man on the bed before him was a pale imitation of that healthier man in the earlier memory. Wide circles of black ringed his eyes, his lips were almost non-existent, and his skin—never the best—was as grey as the flagstones of the main courtyard in Hogwarts.

Harry sat beside the bed, holding Severus's hand in his. Thinner than Severus had ever seen Harry before, his eyes were rimmed in dark, puffy patches of flesh.

"Tomorrow," rasped out memory-Severus, his voice so dry Severus wanted to conjure a glass of water, "I want you to remove the machines."

"But-" said Harry. He swallowed hard, and, as Severus approached the two of them, he realised that what he had assumed to be glints of light off the lenses of Harry's glasses were actually tears.

Harry made a sobbing sound and grasped Severus's hand tighter. "Don't say that! I don't- I don't mind it. I'm glad that I ... had the chance to love you."

"Oh, mon renard...." Harry shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his face crumbling. When he could speak, he whispered, 'On risque de pleurer, si l'on s'est laissé apprivoiser'."

Harry made a sound that was half laughter, half sob. When he recovered himself, he said, "'One runs the risk of weeping, if one lets himself be tamed.'"

His eyes searching Harry's face, Severus said, "I would give up everything to spend the rest of my life with you. All my magic. Everything."

With a considerable amount of effort, Severus pulled his hand away from Harry's. "Go. Spend the night with your friends."

"Please." The word sent a shiver through Harry, as though he feared it. His eyes softened, and he waited for Severus to continue.

Severus smiled at him. The small action looked painful. "I want to see you smiling when you return."

"Listen," said Severus. "I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to stay with you."

Harry stood and carefully, delicately, so as not to disturb the equipment, kissed Severus on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow. With a smile."

Another memory followed that one close behind. Harry sat at the kitchen table of Molly Weasley, bouncing a laughing baby on a knee while Molly cooked dinner. "When do Bill and Fleur leave for Peru?" asked Harry.

"In four days," answered Molly with a sigh. "I know Bill is the best curse-breaker, but still, those Moche tombs are said to be the most dangerous ones in the world. I can understand why they will be leaving the children with me, but I don't think it's safe for Fleur."

"She wants to be with Bill," said Harry, as if he understood perfectly. "D'you think I could have the children visit Severus tomorrow?"

"Carry diseases, I know. But I'd like Severus to see Dominique soon." He swallowed hard. "I mean, she's growing up fast and the pictures don't do her justice."

"Harry," said Ronald, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "You look like shite."

"There you go. He just wants to see you happy. Come, we'll have a nice night, and take him some fresh fruit in the morning."

"Then we'll steal food from the orchards on our way home early tomorrow morning."

Harry's smile looked a little more genuine. "I'll go, but I'll be home before dawn."

"Just before it," promised Ronald, throwing an arm over Harry's shoulders. "Right now, we'll get smashed!"

The scene shifted to another later that night. It was still dark out, clouds covering the sky and preventing Severus from using the stars to estimate location and time. Harry, Ronald, and Granger sat together on a beach Severus didn't recognise.

Harry asked, "D'you think it was wrong to switch to Muggle medicine? I can't help-"

"No," said Granger. "You know the potions weren't helping him at all. I think he's improved since we began the Muggle treatments. I suppose the wizarding medicine only works if you're magical and he's effectively a Squib."

Shaking his head, Harry traced shapes in the sand with a finger. "Can you believe it? The greatest mind and-"

Kreacher appeared with a loud crack. "Master Severus has fallen." He stretched out a hand, Harry grabbed it, and the scene whirled as if someone had thrown reality into a blender. When the colours straightened out, they were in the tower, staring at a crowd of Healers surrounding the bed.

Poppy caught him. "Harry, come with me," she said and, like a lost puppy, Harry followed.

"Oh Harry," she said, her eyes sad, and Harry nearly fell to the floor. Poppy hurriedly Summoned a chair for him, and he dropped into it, his hands shaking.

She knelt before him and took one of his hands in hers. "We don't know yet. We'll tell you as soon as we know. Healer Kessler found him on the floor in the centre of his room. He'd removed all of his equipment."

"I'm afraid I don't know. You'll have to ask him when he wakes," she said. She gave a soft smile and squeezed Harry's hand, but in her eyes, there was a darkness that suggested she thought Severus would never wake. "We'll try to keep him alive and comfortable as long as possible."

"You need to wait until they finish their examinations," she said, smiling gently.

Harry stared at some point past her and made no objection. His eyes blinked slowly and the green behind the lids was so dark and dull, it had almost gone grey.

Most of them were snippets of the two of them brewing, on vacation, or Severus playing pranks on Harry. It was not something he had ever considered to be amusing before, but Harry's intense reactions always gave him a smile, and he wondered why he had never thought of trying it. It was the same when he saw the memory of himself teaching Harry how to make treacle tarts. He had never imagined he could cook, much less that he'd be good enough at it to make Harry proclaim the dish the best he'd ever tasted. So much knowledge had been lost when his memories vanished! What more could he learn if given the proper time and motivation?

The last and final memory had the only bit of sex. Harry had attached it to one of the memories of the two of them in the potions lab together, as if he had suspected Severus would find it objectionable.

It began with them sitting on a side-by-side and kissing. The kissing didn't bother him. It was odd to see himself doing things he'd not remembered, but no more so than any other memories.

Compared to Harry's masculine beauty, he was old, scarred and far too slender. His former self stripped without a care, shedding his clothes with the ease of one stepping into a shower. Harry still remained mostly dressed when he knelt between Harry's legs.

Teasingly, his intense dark eyes never leaving Harry's, he laid kisses of devotion on the bulging crotch before him. He removed Harry's cock from his trousers and licked it hungrily, drawing the most amazing sounds from Harry's throat.

Severus had to turn away. He couldn't stand to see the two of them together although he didn't know why. It wasn't that it wasn't erotic: Harry's moans filled the room and called his cock to life. His body remembered even if his mind did not. But even with desire uncurling in his stomach, it still felt wrong to be watching them.

Glancing back, he saw himself worshiping Harry's body instead of abusing it. It should have made him angry to watch how he debased himself—to see himself on his knees, willingly submitting to the desires of another man.

He didn't understand it. After his mistake with Voldemort, he had sworn he would freely kneel before no man ever again. He had promised himself he would never again be subservient to a powerful wizard. He had wanted Harry on his knees, sucking cock, but he had never, ever, envisioned that he would lower himself enough to return such a favour. Just as Narcissa had told him, he had been tamed.

But try as he might, he couldn't feel any anger over it. There was only longing, longing for what he'd had, and lost. Longing and ... voyeurism. It was an odd feeling to have about memories of oneself, but as he searched himself, he could find no other reason for his discomfort. Although both bodies were familiar to him, the men inside them were unknown to him. Just as there were many things about his future self that he didn't know, there were still many parts of Harry that he'd not imagined.

He and Harry had shifted now, Harry naked, without his glasses and bent over the edge of the sofa, Severus sliding in and out of his body.

"Oh fuck yeah," moaned Harry, his hips pushing back to meet Severus. "That's perfect. Just like that."

Stroking his hand up the strong back before him, Severus said, "You want to have a child, don't you?" He scratched the back of Harry's neck and the boy nearly purred.

Severus leant forward, pistoning his hips in a slow, lazy slide. "I want you to have a child."

Too lost in pleasure, Harry said nothing for several seconds. When he spoke, he said, "Unless you know something I don't, I can't have a child with you."

Severus scoffed. "I don't want to produce offspring. Ginny has agreed to carry your child."

"Mmmm ... that's-" Harry's eyes shot open and he stopped thrusting back. The surprise on his face mirrored Severus's own shock at what his other self had proposed. "Wait? What?"

Memory-Severus flipped Harry over as he transfigured the sofa to lift the cushions waist high. As soon as Harry raised his arse up enough for sex, Severus thrust in again, holding Harry's legs in place. Gasping, Harry grabbed Severus's shoulders, his head sliding back.

"I spoke to her earlier today," said Severus, as if it were a perfectly normal conversation to be having, "and she agreed."

Harry put his hands on Severus's chest, stopping him. Blinking, he said, "You went and asked my best friend—my ex-girlfriend—if she'd have a kid with me and you didn't ask me first? You hate kids!" The twin expressions of shock and disbelief on Harry's face brought an amused grin to Severus's face.

Running his hands over Harry's calves, Severus said, "I wouldn't hate your offspring. Besides, if I have a child, I'll teach it proper potions techniques before it can walk."

"She's unattached, she's likely very fertile, she'll not try to sue you for custody, and you two are around each other often." Severus's hands slipped up Harry's chest, his fingers capturing and teasing the two pebbled nipples as he rocked his hips.

"Ohhhh...." Harry threw back his head, his mouth open. For a moment he drifted in pleasure, his hips canting, then he shook his head, renewed his frown and said, "My mum had red hair."

Severus snorted, his hips stilling, his hands leaving Harry's legs. "Don't be daft. I selected her because it's likely you'll be able to fertilize her on the first attempt-"

"First attempt?" Harry's eyebrows shot up. "How many times do I have to fuck her?"

"None," answered Severus, his voice a low growl. "We'll use artificial insemination. Do you think I'd share you?"

Harry wrapped his legs around Severus's hips and pulled him closer. "You're the only one I ever want to be inside."

They said their words with such conviction and certainty, it almost seemed as if Scott had been a product of some feverish imagination. How things had changed after Severus had fallen ill.

Smiling, Severus bent to kiss him. When their lips parted, Severus straightened his back and said, "I also selected her because I want the mother to be someone we both know very well and who'll live with us during the pregnancy so I can monitor her condition. You know that there are few individuals who I'll tolerate living in this house."

"Good." Harry helped Severus thrust with his feet, his legs forcing the thick cock deeper and harder into his arse. "It'll not look good if I take time off so soon after becoming an Auror."

Hardly able to believe the memory before him, Severus agreed with Harry when he said, "Yeah."

Adopting an equally sly smile, Harry playfully countered, "So you want another green-eyed babe to woo?"

Severus stopped thrusting and looked at Harry as if he'd turned into a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Laughing, Harry grabbed Severus's arms. His eyes glinting, he licked his lips and growled, "Fuck me, Professor."

Both Severuses wanted him. This was how his 'first time' with Harry should've been. Instead, he'd gone and bollocksed it all up. His memory-self was pounding into Harry with the same strength he himself had used, but with Harry's moans and gasps, there was no doubt how much they both enjoyed it.

Finally, he understood. He'd hurt Harry. He'd raped his lover. Harry's birthday should have been a chance for them to enhance their relationship, not rip it to pieces. Harry shouldn't have had to fight him off—he should've stopped the moment Harry'd told him to.

He didn't deserve to be here, observing the intimate love-making that they'd once shared. Especially not after what he'd done. Taking one last look at himself wrapped up in an eager Harry, he left the memory and the Pensieve.

Severus blinked to clear his vision and glanced around the tower. It hadn't changed since he'd first dived into the Pensieve, but now, he felt years beyond the man who had stood on this very floor just moments before. Crossing over to the window, he gazed down upon the people gathered in the courtyard, watching Harry have tea with his friends. Once he would have been amongst their number. He'd had a family, a profession, a lover, a home, and the respect of an entire community. He didn't remember choosing this path originally, but it was his. This was his life—his home.

Down in the courtyard, Harry laughed at something Ronald said. Severus's heart tightened. Once he had been a source of happiness for Harry too. He had no idea how he could even begin to repair their relationship, but he had to try.

Removing the concealment charm, he left the tower and stepped out into the bright sun. To the shocked silence of the gathered party, he marched over and parked himself on a conjured chair beside Harry.

"Severus!" cried Fleur with a clap of her hands. "'Ow good of you to join us! 'Ow 'ave you been?"

"Wonderful!" She bounced a smiling baby on her lap. "'Ave you seen Dominique since you've recovaired?"

Without hesitation, she stood, marched over, and plopped the child into Severus's arms.

With no memory of ever holding a child before, Severus did his best to keep from dropping her. She smiled up at him, her little white hands reaching out.

The boy came to a sudden halt in front of Severus, eyed him shrewdly, then asked, "Where's your bed?"

"He doesn't need it anymore," said Harry, his eyes never leaving Severus's face.

Victoire climbed into Severus lap, pushing aside her sister, who Severus handed back to her mother. Unsure of where to put his hands, Severus focused on preparing his tea.

"My son, Charlie," said Percy, putting an arm around the boy. "He'll have a little sibling any day now."

The unknown woman shifted, revealing her ripe belly. "I'm hoping for a girl," she said, patting herself. "It would be nice if Dominique had a playmate, although I'm sure they'll be good friends either way."

"Have you been to the new Apothecary in Diagon Alley?" asked Granger, peering at Severus over the rim of her teacup.

Settling back in his seat, Severus said, "I've not. Who owns it?" As easily as that, Severus joined the conversation as though he had always been included.

For the next hour they chatted amiably, then everyone retired to the dining room for an early dinner. After the guests left, Severus found himself alone with Harry in the parlour.

"I've watched these," Severus said, setting the vial of memories down on the table beside Harry's chair.

"It's about time," muttered Harry. Snatching the vial, he popped the cork and poured the memories back in his head. Removing the memories from the mind didn't remove them from one's recollection; it just dampened the emotional impact, as if one were watching a film rather than reliving what had happened before. Severus expected an emotional storm, and Harry's face did not disappoint. His eyes closed, and emotions flashed in rapid sequence across his features. His face contorted as various expressions of joy, pain, sorrow and regret slid across his features in quick succession. One moment, his face glowed with happiness; the next, his mouth dropped and Severus expected tears to pour down his cheeks as he clenched the edges of his armchair.

As the multitude of expressions slowed, Harry sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sitting stiff and silent. After a moment, he relaxed, a small smile gracing his lips. When he opened his eyes again, they were free of tears, but not as bright as usual.

Removing the photobook from his robes, Severus set it on the table as well. Harry smiled at it as if it were an old friend, but did not pick it up. "Don't expect me to forgive you just because you looked at these. What d'you want?" he asked, his face stony.

Severus sat down across from Harry. "I don't expect anything. I would like you to answer one question without trying to force me to do something I find repugnant."

"You showed me a memory of a night where I told you to go visit your friends, and the next morning, you were called back to the tower with the news that I had been found in the centre of the floor."

"I don't know," said Harry, scratching the back of his neck. "I never thought to ask. D'you think you were trying to get somewhere?"

"If my intention was simply to die, I would not have increased my agony by attempting to move across the room. I would've removed the equipment and let nature take its course, or used a spell if I had the ability. I'm a practical man—I see no sin in suicide and would prefer it to be effective and quick."

"I don't believe I have that information written down anywhere. You'll have to ask Healer Kessler, she was in charge of your care."

He had left his life in the hands of a Healer he had never heard of? "Why wasn't Poppy tending to me?"

"She had to work at Hogwarts. Besides, you wanted a Healer who had experience with Muggle treatments."

"I did?" If he had, that meant he had known he would lose his ability to react to Wizarding potions.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I guess you knew the potions would lose their effectiveness. I wonder why you didn't anticipate losing your memory."

Harry chewed on his lower lip, the line between his eyebrows growing dark. "Why didn't you leave any information for yourself, then? It doesn't make any sense."

"I didn't want myself to know what I had done. I told Phineas that I'd had an accident, but that he shouldn't tell me what spell had caused it."

Snorting, Harry shook his head. "That's completely mental. If you did nearly die by an accident during spell creation, then you wouldn't be stupid enough to try that one again. Even if you were worried that you would, you could just destroy the spell." He glanced at Severus. "I know you hate destroying knowledge, but even you would destroy it rather than let yourself nearly die again, wouldn't you?"

His eyes narrowed, Harry rubbed his jaw. "You make no sense sometimes. If you knew you'd lose your memories, then you should've pulled them out, stuck them in a vial, and then later returned them to your head after you woke. We could've avoided this whole nonsense months ago."

Severus agreed. His actions made no sense and he had to think before he could offer up even a halfway satisfactory explanation. "Perhaps I knew how paranoid I would be." Reaching into his robes, he removed the wooden box he had found under his desk. "I might've taken measures to ensure the truth was difficult to obtain, in the hopes that I would accept it as such, compared to a truth that arrived easily. I might've hidden my memories. This box-" He handed it to Harry. "-could only be accessed with my blood. Fresh blood. It cannot be fooled by Polyjuice."

Turning the box over in his hands, Harry stared at it in silence for several moments before he lifted it to his lips. "Mon renard," he whispered.

Severus silently watched Harry fiddle with the box for a few moments. "Why do you call me fox in French?" he asked him.

Harry smiled, his fingers stroking the wood. "It's from Le Petit Prince, a book Hermione gave me when I told her that I was trying to learn French. It's about an alien prince who encounters a talking fox. The prince asks the fox to play with him because he is sad, but the fox says he can't, for he isn't tame. He says, 'Right now, I am just a fox and you are just a boy. We have no need of each other. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To you, I shall be unique in all the world. To me, you shall be unique in all the world.'" Harry's smile widened. "The fox says that his life is boring. If the prince tames him, the sun will come into his life. The step of the prince'll be music to his ears. The wheat fields'll remind the fox of the prince's beautiful golden hair."

Lifting his head, Harry's beautiful eyes met Severus's. "Thinking of this beauty, the fox exclaims, 'Please—tame me!' The prince says that he has no time because he wants to be able to understand things. The fox says, 'On ne connaît que les choses que l'on apprivoise'. Which means, 'one only understands the things that one tames.' That's the password to your safe."

"The prince asks what he must do to tame the fox. The fox says to be patient and don't speak. He says words are the source of misunderstandings. The prince must come at a certain hour every day and wait." His eyebrows lifting, Harry stared at Severus, daring him to protest.

Severus said nothing. He had not minded the dinners; he had rather liked them. He'd not realised Harry had got the idea from a children's book, but the thought didn't bother him at all.

"Anyway," said Harry, the challenge and all trace of mirth melting from his eyes. "The prince tames the fox, but then he has to leave. The fox is heartbroken and he says that he is very sad. The prince protests, saying that the fox begged to be tamed. The fox says yes and that, even though he is sad that...." Harry's breath hitched. "He's sad that the prince is leaving, he is glad to have loved him because now the colour of wheat is beautiful. The fox says that you become forever responsible for what you tame."

"Or the prince," said Harry with a shrug. With a hard glint in his eyes, he added, "He is rather clueless about some very basic things."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "I suppose you think the best way to stop a behaviour you find distasteful is to replicate it?"

Harry pressed his lips together, the hardness in his eyes melting. "No." Returning his attention to the box in his hands, he said, "But sometimes it's the only way to get you to stop. Where and how did you find this box?"

"It was hidden under a tile beneath my desk in the potions lab office. I used blood magic to remove the tile."

"Blood magic...." Setting the box down on the table before him, Harry pulled out his wand. Casting a cutting spell on his fingers, he chanted softly under his breath, then touched his bloodied fingers to the top of the box.

White light burst from it, filling the room. When it had faded, the solid block of wood had turned into a small wooden chest with a simple latch lock on the front. Without pause, Harry flicked the lock open and flipped back the lid. Reaching inside, he removed two envelopes.

"There's one for each of us," he said, his eyes flitting between the papers in his hand and Severus's face. Moving to him, Severus collected the envelope marked 'Severus' and examined the box for anything else hidden inside. He had been so sure that his memories would be found within it! After no amount of blood, potions, or spells could reveal anything else inside, he sat down to read. Harry had opened his own letter and sat transfixed as he read it.

Breaking the magical seal, Severus unfolded the parchment. It was the same type of parchment on which he had written the other message to himself.

As much as it frustrated him to see his suspicions confirmed, it was also gratifying to know that he had been on the right track. He had hid the information and memories from himself on purpose in order to force him and Harry to spend time together.

"Show me yours," said Harry, his eye's meeting Severus's, his hand with his own letter out-stretched. Severus silently traded letters. Harry's read, "I never wanted to leave you. Be patient with me; I'm more scared and lost than I'll ever admit.

If I refuse to treat you the way you deserve to be treated, forget me. I may not ever again be the man you love and I've already caused you enough pain to last a lifetime.

"What sort of rubbish is this?" Harry jumped to his feet, and chucked the parchment at Severus. He paced the room. "I've been searching for months! I've spent days tracking down each clue, making lists, contacting every single person who could possibly help me. I've worked my arse off—trying to help you. And you- you- YOU FUCKING KNEW!"

"I don't know," said Severus, turning over both pieces of parchment, searching for hidden text.

"Self-centered bastard," grumbled Harry, the turns of his pacing growing sharper and sharper. "I've given everything to solving this and it's all just a bloody game to you. I don't know why I bother. Selfish, arrogant prick-"

"The answers are out there," Severus reminded him. "He- I hid them with the intention of them being found. I wanted to be sure that I-"

It was an easy spell to block wandlessly, but Harry had sent a silent Inflamora following behind it and Severus barely managed to dive out of the way. The chair behind him burst into flames. A rapid fire of spells followed, all cast wordlessly, Harry's mouth a snarl as spells burst from the tip of his wand: Confringo, Expulso, Diffindo, all spells designed to do damage.

Instinctively casting a Shield Charm, Severus aimed spells of his own to try to destroy as many of the spells as possible, but they were sent too fast and too powerfully for him to counteract them all. He had to send several into the furniture around him, blowing up a table, pulverizing the sofa. With anyone else, he would've sent the spells straight back at the caster, but he didn't dare harm Harry.

Just as quickly as the spells started, they stopped. Harry panted, his breath harsh in the silence of the room. Without a word, he dropped his wand, and crumpled to the floor.

His head bowed, Harry sat there, buried in the weight of his robes. As abruptly as the attack had begun, it was over.

Cautiously, never removing the Shield Charm, Severus straightened his back and ventured a few steps forward. "I did it for you. I-"

Bitterly, Harry laughed. "Don't lie to me. You've always been a bastard with a black, twisted heart." He lifted his head, his eyes dry. "Even at your best you're still...." His face twisted.

Releasing the shield, Severus knelt before him. "I kept it secret so that we would be forced to work together.... So that I couldn't leave you."

Harry stared at him, his eyes just as confused and lost as they had been when he returned with Diggory's body from the graveyard so many years before.

Severus tucked his wand in his robes so as not to provoke another attack. Harry may have thought him comparable to a wild animal, but he'd only cast a single attack spell against Harry. Inching closer, he watched Harry's face, ready to dive away at any second. The danger lurking in the other man didn't scare him at all; he had always loved the excitement of adrenaline coursing through his veins, filling his body with heat. In a soft voice, Severus said, "We'll never be able to solve this unless we work together. I made sure of that."

A low chuckle emerged from Harry's throat, but he didn't sound amused. "So, that's why you've been nice to me lately. I thought so. If you can't get something from me, you have no use for me."

Harry grabbed his wand and Severus yanked out his own. Jumping to his feet, Harry glared down at Severus. "I don't care anymore. If you had cared for me at all, then you would've never put me through this hell. I'm through." He marched off, slamming the door behind him.

Severus knelt, staring at the closed door. He couldn't blame Harry. After all they both had been through, knowing that he had deliberately suppressed knowledge frustrated him more than any other aspect. Still, as infuriating as it was, he had always enjoyed solving mysteries. That was all that potion and spell creation was, in the end. Getting to his feet, he tucked the notes into his robes, and set off to the lab to prepare for tomorrow. He refused to approach the Gryffindors for random questions, and he doubted any of them knew what he needed to know anyway. If Harry wouldn't help him, there was only one person he could ask for help.

Monday, 16 August, 10:13 AM

Pulling his travelling cloak tighter around his shoulders, Severus marched up to the door, ignoring the eyes he knew were watching him. Three short raps on the wood and her high voice answered, "Go away!"

"Mrs. Endell," Severus said into the door. "I need to speak to you about your son."

Through the door, she hissed, "I have nothing to say to the likes of you." As if it were a curse, she added, "Potter lover."

Severus sighed. There was no other way around it. "He thinks I'm a selfish, egotistical bastard who only desires to hurt him."

That had been easier than expected. After how happy she had been imagining his death, Severus had expected to spend hours on her doorstep before being allowed inside. Hiding his surprise, he swept into the room, one hand holding his wand just in case.

Motioning for him to sit, she shuffled towards the kitchen Severus could see through the open doorway. Glancing around as if it were his first time in the home, Severus took a seat in the chair.

When she returned, she passed him a cup of tea that he pretended to drink. "That boy," she said as she folded herself onto her sofa, "is the most arrogant fool I've ever met. He thinks he's above the Minister of Magic himself."

"You said you wanted to speak to me about my son?" Brigit's dark blue eyes had a sharpness that left Severus feeling as though he were under Legilimency, even though he could feel no magic directed towards him.

"Yes." He set down his teacup. "I examined blood samples from various individuals and found a peculiarity that was common only to your son and myself." Based on how shut off she was from the wizarding world, and Harry's reports on her background, he doubted that she knew much of brewing. Rather than explaining in detail, he simply said, "This oddity was purposefully introduced through either a poison or an antidote. Is there anyone who would've had motivation and ability to poison the both of us?"

She gazed at him, unblinking, over the rim of her teacup. After several silent seconds she said, "What will you do without him?"

"Harry Potter," she spat. In a softer tone she said, "You were a Death Eater, correct? He was all that saved you from Azkaban, as I understand it."

Caught off-guard, Severus said, "Well, yes. I suppose so. I had avenues of escape, but his aid did help me."

Although never one to reveal secrets unless he had to, there was something that told Severus he needed to be honest with Brigit. In his potions work, he used careful methodology, each act calculated and planned beforehand. When confronting the Dark Lord or in a situation where he worried for his life, he relied on his instinct. Although he didn't fear the bird of a woman before him, his gut told him to be uncharacteristically honest.

"I assaulted him. I've punched and bit him—multiple times. Furthermore, I don't remember him as anything other than a thick-headed student. I can't remember the past six years. They've kept it from the papers for my privacy. Whatever happened to me, the cure stole my memories. He-"

Severus had never thought to ask that. "I don't know. I suppose it was because six years ago was the last time I was near death before this occasion. There's evidence I picked the date of my previous near-death, although it could've been a coincidence since that date falls near Beltane."

She nodded, her eyes losing some of their sharpness. "The best date of the year. My son was born then."

She missed him. Watching her fix herself a new cup of tea, Severus felt sure of it. She had turned her grief to anger and bitterness because she had nowhere else for it go. His mother had done the same. Cut off from her pure-blood family, she'd vacillated between hating them for the way they treated her, and missing them. In her mind, the entire world had been against her, and she had been a helpless victim of fate and circumstance. Like Eileen, Brigit had no one. Even more so since her husband and son had both died, and her son had been a murderer. She was the only one left to mourn him and there would be no one left to mourn her after she had gone. She needed someone to acknowledge that her son had been more than just a killer.

"I've never seen a more remarkable laboratory," Severus told her. "He was, without a doubt, the best Potions Master I've ever come across—even better than I. He did things that I would've sworn were impossible, had I not seen the proof myself."

Rather than cheer her, the words turned her expression darker, the lines on her face growing thicker. "He died and you lived."

"I had money. If he'd had the resources that I did, I'm sure he would've survived. I also may not have been poisoned as much as him—his blood showed a stronger reaction than mine."

She stared at him with her unnaturally still eyes. "He wasn't poisoned. He died from an accident."

She snorted. "They'd like to think that, wouldn't they?" Shaking her head, she muttered, "They think they know everything."

Severus let her rant about the Aurors until she ran out of things to say. When she was silent again, he asked, "What sort of accident did he have?"

"My family has passed down texts for generations. That Potter boy has stolen them all now, but I had books that were full of the...." In a sacred tone, she said, "older magic." She took a sip of her tea and Severus waited for her to continue. Setting down her cup and picking up a paper doily, she turned it over and over in her hands, her hawk-eyes fixed on Severus's face. "Corey was always a bright boy, and he liked to try the old spells. He attempted one designed to unleash his magical ability. Although it worked—his magic increased exponentially—it made him sick every time he used it."

Her gnarled fingers tore at the lace doily, bits of white falling into her lap like snow. "His magic was killing him. And—even with all his intelligence—there was nothing he could do but die."

1:48 PM

Severus dipped down below the lowest cloud layer. He could see his property off in the distance, but he could think of nothing but the conversation he'd had with Brigit. Playing it over and over again in his head, he tried to find a way around the inescapable conclusion, but there was no way to avoid it. He had made the same mistake as Endell. He had tried to increase his magical power. Unlike Endell however, he had managed to save his life, but at the cost of losing his memories. Even with all that he had that Endell hadn't: wand, the best lab in the world, a whole host of Aurors, Harry, he had still nearly lost his life.

Although he had asked her as carefully as he could, Severus had been unable to learn much more from Brigit. Her son had committed suicide by Auror rather than die a slow, agonizing death. Either living without using his magic was impossible for him, or the latent magic in one's body eventually destroyed the flesh.

He still had no idea how he had managed to cure himself or where his memories were (if they could even be found), but the pressure to learn the answer to those questions did not weigh so heavily on his shoulders as it had before. He had ensured that he would never make the same mistake twice. That was why he had asked Phineas to keep the details of what he had done secret. He didn't want himself repeating the experiment and permanently killing himself.

Flying lower as the garden came into view, the house growing large beyond it, Severus shook his head. He had decided to fly home rather than Apparate in order to clear his thoughts, but his head was even more jumbled than when he had left Brigit. As he drew closer, he realised that the layout of the garden matched the disarray of his thoughts. Never having seen it from the air before, he stared down at the paths uncurling before him, darting off only to dead-end in circles or pools of water. The pools themselves were not circular, as he had assumed from the ground, but arranged in logarithmic spirals. He must have been obsessed with spirals, as he saw a few golden spirals as well, made out of plant boxes and-

Severus flew up higher, zooming towards the space of land directly above the tower. From this vantage point, as he gazed down over his garden, he could see the outline of the paths of land, vegetation, and water clearly. As he stared down at the land beneath him, he sucked in a breath, nearly losing his concentration and dropping out of the sky. The entire garden was based around a water-based logarithmic spiral composed of earth-based golden triangles and surrounded by Elder Futhark runes written in stone and flora. With the additional spirals and gemstones inside the tower itself, what lay before him was not the work of a man losing his mind, but a magical battery and concentration point! Using the power of runes and ancient magic, he had turned the land into a device to focus one single, powerful spell, and at the centre, he had placed his deathbed. Beltane, one of the most powerful days of the year, had been the perfect time to cast his Herculean spell. The note that read 'Zenith: Draco' and the purchase of the Beltane stones had all been used to give power and guidance to that single spell on that single day.

Gliding down to the top of the tower, Severus searched through the landscape, noting more and more signs of rune work and magical mathematics. No wonder he had never allowed Harry to see the plans for the garden. One look at this, and it would be obvious to anyone with a basic training in Germanic runes what its purpose was.

4:12 PM

Harry's office was surprisingly easy to find for a man who supposedly had hundreds of enemies. Then again, Severus reckoned that, as Harry's boyfriend, he was given considerations that other wizards weren't. They waved him through all levels of security with nothing more than friendly glances. Severus had half a mind to yell at them for their lax security—they'd not even checked to see if he'd been Polyjuiced, for Merlin's sake! But then, they might prevent him from seeing Harry if he gave them trouble.

Harry magically opened the door when he knocked. Glancing up from his desk, he asked, "What are you doing here?" with more surprise than anger or annoyance.

Striding forward, Severus opened his newly completed garden plan across Harry's desk. "What does that look like to you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed as he peered at it more closely. "Uh ... it makes no sense?"

Highlighting three of the runes, Severus jabbed his finger at the parchment. "What does that say?"

How could he not see it? It was so obvious! Anyone with even a basic understanding of runes would-

Of course. Harry hadn't taken Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. He'd probably never felt a need to learn about them. "You don't know anything about runes, do you?"

Although Severus hadn't meant it as an attack or an accusation, Harry took it as one. His eyes, previously wary, sparked and he glared at Severus as if he were wishing himself a Basilisk. "Am I supposed to know every single, stupid little thing?" Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms, daring Severus to challenge him.

"No," said Severus, trying to calm him. "I forgot that you'd not taken Ancient Runes." Severus pointed at more of the symbols. "The garden is full of runes. This-" He highlighted it on the parchment. "-is a logarithmic spiral. It's found all over nature: in nautilus shells, composing the arms of spiral galaxies and tropical cyclones, and in more than a few plants. It's a magically powerful spiral because energy directed into it grows exponentially." Tracing each shape on the parchment, he said, "The Fibonacci spirals, the golden spirals, the golden triangles—all of these things are evidence of a single, solitary spell of unmatched power. I was dying." He glanced at Harry who still maintained his frigid stare. "Contrary to what you might think, my magic never left me. I cast a spell that-"

"I didn't think your magic left you," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "That's how you got into this bloody mess."

He hadn't been this snotty since Hogwarts. Biting back his retort, Severus said, "No, I cast a spell on my death bed. I wasn't turned into a Squib, I always had my magic. I was probably suppressing it through potions, which was why it couldn't be detected. You see, I wasn't poisoned. Endell had discovered a spell that claimed to increase one's magical power. It works, but at the price of destroying the caster's body. Our human frame isn't meant to contain such power. Endell committed suicide rather than die a slow death from his own magic. I believe that, with all the latent magic inside our bodies, it is impossible to live with one's magic turned against the self, even if taking suppression potions. I lived while Endell died because, on that night, I cast a powerful spell that saved my life. Remember when I said to you that I would give up all my magic to spend the rest of my life with you?"

"I know I would have, had I been able. But, I had no choice." Glancing back at the parchment on the desk, Severus said, "Now, I still don't know exactly-"

Severus paused and looked at him. Harry's right cheek was twitching, his robes clenched in his fists. He stared in the direction of the desk but he wasn't looking at it. "This is all your fault," he said, his voice dark and low.

Harry swung his arm across his desk, throwing the parchment and all his papers and quills into Severus's path. Severus jumped out of the way, and Harry leapt to his feet. "You nearly died!" he yelled. "And for what? More power? Don't you ever learn? HOW STUPID ARE YOU?"

How could he begin to explain something he couldn't even remember? "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think I could do it-"

Harry wouldn't listen. Shaking his head, he spat, "FUCK YOU! You're a selfish bastard! Why did you kill my mum? Because you wanted more power!"

Severus pulled back as if Harry had physically struck him. Even though he had accepted his blame in Lily's death for decades, hearing it from Harry called forth a surge of guilt so strong, he felt he might be sick. His mouth dry, his heart in his stomach, he could only rasp out, "That was different."

"No," said Harry, his eyes harder than Severus had ever seen them before. "It's the same fucking thing. Power is the only thing you ever care about."

Once it had been true. He had lost Lily for that reason, but not anymore. He would've given up everything for Harry! He couldn't explain why he had been foolish enough to dabble in such a dangerous spell, but he knew lack of care for Harry hadn't been a part of it. He'd seen enough of the memories and pictures to know that he had loved Harry just as much as, if not more, than he'd loved Lily. "That's not true. If it were, I wouldn't have forced the two of us to work together. Remember what I said, I-"

A strange, bitter laugh emerged from Harry. "It's never good enough. Nothing's ever good enough for you."

Harry jerked back. "YOU ALMOST KILLED YOURSELF! For what? For power! And all that time ... all that time ... you knew. You knew it was your fault and you hadn't the courage to tell me because you were too fucking proud! You couldn't admit to me that you fucked up."

"Oh, don't bullshit me, Snape. That may not have been the only reason, but it was one of them." Harry stepped forward, his face only a foot away from Severus's. "Tell me now. Say it. Say, 'I'm sorry, I made a mistake.' Apologise."

Severus didn't miss Harry's use of his surname. What did surprise him was how it stung. He shook his head. "You expect me to apologize for something I don't remember doing, something that I don't believe I would've done. It's possible Endell somehow manipulated the text of the spell to ensure that I would suffer the same fate as him. You even admitted I couldn't have made a mistake."

Rolling his eyes, Harry said, "It doesn't matter if you say you wouldn't—that you don't remember—because you did do it." Harry glared at him. "You didn't care that it nearly killed Endell, that it could've killed you. You still tried it. You-"

Harry acted as if he'd gone through with the experiment in order to hurt him. "I might not have known what happened to Endell! If I'd known it would kill me, I certainly wouldn't have tried it."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" asked Harry, his voice climbing in volume. "You took the risk of it killing you, because it meant you could have more power! That's all that seems to really matter to you, isn't it? Power. Tell me, what the fuck do you need more power for? Tell me!"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right. You still did it. You still did something that would kill you and take ...." Swallowing hard, Harry scrubbed at his arm, his eyes darting to the scroll on the floor. When he met Severus's eyes again, he looked younger than he ever had at eleven. Beneath all his anger and bluster was the orphaned child who'd had too many loved ones die and leave him alone once more. Abandoned himself, Severus finally understood. When Lily had died, he'd been so angry at himself, but also angry at her because she was all he'd had, and she had left him.

As cautiously as he would approach a Hungarian Horntail, Severus slid forward and lifted a tentative hand to touch Harry's arm, but dropped it when Harry glared at him. In a soft voice, Severus said, "It was never my intention to leave. I did everything in my power to come back to you, to stay with you."

"But you didn't," said Harry, his eyes staring at some point past Severus's hand. "Not all of you."

"There are some parts of me that will never change. I've always been protective of you."

Harry snorted, his dark eyes meeting Severus's with a challenge. "And physically and sexually assaulting me was just a way to show your protectiveness?"

Hearing those quiet words sent knives twisting through his gut, more painful than any insult Harry had hurled at him. He said nothing, but looked away, unable to meet Harry's accusing eyes. A wall of silence fell between them until Severus spoke, "I know I hurt you, just as I knew I might. I found a note that I'd hid for myself in case I wasn't as ... cooperative as I needed to be." He Summoned the parchment with the map of the garden and folded it up. Reaching into his robes, he produced the coded piece of paper and held it out to Harry. "The code is in Wuthering Heights. Have you read it?"

Wordlessly, Harry shook his head. He took the paper, holding it with both hands as if he expected it to escape from him at any moment.

"The part where that is from reads, 'Do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you. Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'"

"That bit of parchment," said Severus, "reads, 'Harry can help you find what you seek.' As Phineas noted, I am careful with my words. I did not say 'will'."

Harry scoffed. "It took you that long to decode it? Pathetic." He thrust the parchment back at Severus. "You should find yourself the easiest person to solve."

The jabs were like paper cuts, but Severus ignored them. Accepting the parchment, he said, "Not when I deliberately frustrate myself."

Pulling out his wand, Harry restored the room to order with a lazy flick. He stepped past Severus to his desk. Without looking at Severus, he said, "I'll be in the library at seven. We need to talk about the newest batch of commissions."

"I'll see you then." With a swirl of his robes, Severus left. Harry's tumultuous mood swings had apparently calmed and there was no reason to provoke another violent outburst.

7:00 PM

Harry strode into the library the moment the clock announced the changing of the hour. It was so perfectly timed, Severus suspected he'd been waiting behind the doors for the exact moment.

Kreacher appeared as if on cue, transforming and setting the table for dinner. Paracelsus burst into applause, and even Phineas wore an expression that almost looked like joy.

"Finally!" said Paracelsus when Harry took his seat at the table. "I've never met two more stubborn people in my life."

"Don't rejoice too soon," said Phineas in an oily tone. "Knowing those two, it will be months before they end their pointless bickering and acknowledge their feelings for each other."

"Poppycock," rejoined Paracelsus. "Fancy a flutter? I'll spend a month in the south hall if they don't start shagging each other over that table like a pair of satyrs on Amortentia within the next two months."

"Thanks," muttered Harry as he snatched a roll off the platter before him. "Right now, I'm half tempted to do it just so I've not got to hear him for a month."

Severus didn't dare allow himself to hope. The way Harry had spat out the words 'do it' as if it were abhorrent to him didn't bode well. To distract himself, he asked, "Why not just bar him from the library?" as he served himself roast lamb before sending the platter over to Harry.

"He was a gift from Narcissa. He acts as though he's mental most of the time, but he does know a great deal about ancient magic. He's been a help more than a few times with our potions. Narcissa gets annoyed when he's not in the library when she visits."

Of course Narcissa would be responsible for the miserable excuse of a man. Severus shook his head. "She always has to have her way."

In the midst of drinking, Harry shrugged. When he put down his cup, he said, "She was the one who got us together."

Severus could feel his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Of all the people he'd ever thought who might be responsible for that, he'd never imagined it was Narcissa. "She did?"

Harry nodded. "After the war, the Malfoys lost a lot of money, and you were the only person from 'our' side who didn't just tolerate her. She wanted money and power and I reckon she figured I would help you more than I would help her. At first, you refused to borrow my money and you hadn't much of your own after your legal fees, so you borrowed what little they had left. You returned it to them, of course, along with plenty extra. They owe everything they now have, to you. The reason I didn't go to them for a loan was because, if you weren't here, I wouldn't be able to control them as well. I don't trust them."

Which was wise of him. Severus knew that if the Malfoys could steal all of Harry's money and get away with it, they would do so.

"Lucius is the latest person who has hired us for commissions. I'd like you to check over the contract before I sign it."

"We'll sign it," corrected Severus. "Even though I consider Lucius a friend, I don't think you should ever sign a contract with him alone."

Frowning, Harry set down his fork. "If you think he's dangerous, I don't want to sign anything at all."

"There's nothing to worry about when you're careful. I'll take care of it, I know how to deal with them."

Thursday, 16 September, 6:34 P.M

Severus drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Four minutes past the half-hour. Four minutes late. He should have guessed Harry would be late for their date; he'd not shown any interest in Severus's attempts at reconciliation. Having held several grudges for decades, Severus was all too familiar with a man's need for revenge, but after a month of getting nowhere, he was beginning to suspect that Harry had no intention of ever forgiving him.

He'd researched rare plants in France and invited Harry to accompany him to collect them, intending to take him to all the traditional romantic spots. Harry had refused, stating that he had his monthly Quidditch game that weekend. Severus's next attempt had been no more successful. After spending hours in a Quidditch shop and perusing Quidditch magazines, he'd settled on a book on ancient Quidditch matches and placed it on Harry's desk. Harry hadn't said a word.

Even when he'd travelled all the way to Yellowstone Park to collect rare archaea from the middle of a hot spring, and delivered his gift in person, Harry had taken the vial as though it would burn his fingers, and stared at it in the same manner he looked at flobberworms.

Maybe Severus would've had more luck if the treacle tarts hadn't burnt. Cooking had seemed so easy in the abstract sense—it was brewing with food and spices. Yet, the treacle tarts ended up a soggy, sticky mess. It didn't help that Kreacher followed him around the kitchen, grumbling and complaining the entire time he attempted to bake.

At least Harry had agreed to meet him at the restaurant after work. It was a start—albeit a small one. Severus had spent a week preparing for their date since Harry had owled back his response. First, the restaurant had to be selected. As Harry would be heading to dinner straight from work, the chosen place could not be too formal. He'd found the perfect restaurant—romantic without being ostentatious, casual yet elegant, the wine list superb and the food splendid. He'd ordered the best treacle tarts on the continent that he could find, and brought them to the restaurant to be carried out with his own, hand-made vanilla ice cream. Ice cream was relatively easy to brew, but it had taken him two weeks before the product achieved satisfactory quality.

"Sorry I'm late," said Harry as he strode across the restaurant, followed by Adam.

What the bloody hell was Adam doing here? The professional Brazilian Quidditch player spent an inordinate amount of time around Harry.

"Oh." Harry stared at the table set for two. "Could we pull up a chair? I ran into Adam when I was leaving the Ministry and-"

There was no point in refusing. Harry had already decided to bring another man along on their date. As tempted as he was to leave, Severus forced his expression into one of polite indifference. "You'll have to ask the staff. I didn't realise you intended to bring a guest."

"It's all right," said Adam with a smile that showed his perfect white teeth. "I'll go."

"No," said Severus, unwilling to let Harry off that easily. "Harry invited you. You're welcome to stay."

As it was early for dinner, the maître d' simply moved them to a table for four. Harry sat across from Severus, beside Adam. Why Harry spent so much time with the burly Quidditch player was beyond him. The man lacked any subtlety or tact and spent an inordinate amount of time discussing Quidditch with Harry. He asked a few standard, dull questions of Severus, and, upon receiving the pat answers such trite inquiries deserved, he quickly lost interest in anything but his food and Harry.

Just after the waiter walked away with their empty plates, Adam announced himself too full to even consider dessert, and Harry did likewise. When the waiter returned carrying the prepared delicacy, Severus confounded him from underneath the table, and he walked past them to deliver the tray to another table. They split the bill three ways and shook hands, Severus crushing Adam's in his.

Adam turned to Harry. "I had a smashing time when you stayed over. Please feel free to visit anytime."

So that's where Harry had gone! After that night, he'd fled straight to the home of a handsome, rich, famous Quidditch player. How could Severus ever hope to compete with such a perfect man? There was nothing he could say or do. He Apparated home.

Harry appeared by his side with a loud crack. "What is wrong with you? You were such an arse to Adam!"

"Only to sneer at him!" argued Harry, marching shortly behind. "You spent the entire evening insulting his intelligence."

It hadn't been hard to do. "The only thing he has room for in that thick skull of his is Quidditch."

"That's because you refused all attempts at conversation! When someone says, 'I hear you and Harry picked up some new projects. What are you working on now?', you don't just say, 'Potions.' If you had given him more than single curt words as answers to his questions, or asked him something that wasn't insulting, you could've had a decent conversation! He's friendly, kind, and-"

Severus would not stand to hear a list of why Adam was so damned perfect and why Harry found him attractive. In the doorway, he whirled around to confront him. "If you desire another partner, take one! I don't care! Don't waste-"

"Oh!" Harry stormed forward and slammed the door against the wall. "So that's what this is all about! How old are you? Twelve? Not everyone in the world wants to fuck me despite what you've convinced yourself. You're the one who hired an escort. You-"

Harry's brow furrowed, the anger in his eyes replaced with confusion. "How do you know about that?"

Turning around, Severus strode towards the edge of the patio. "I found his business card in your trunk."

Ah, Harry had thought he'd been referring to the time when he'd met Scott and pretended to have fucked him. Harry had claimed that he didn't believe Severus had been serious when he'd said he'd hired an escort. But had he really believed it all this time? Such naked jealously halted Severus in his tracks. No wonder Harry'd been so angry. Turning to glance at Harry, he said, "I didn't touch him. What does it matter if I did? You'll not have me."

"I should just take your abuse, then?" Harry threw out his arms. "Hell, go ahead. Why don't you tie me down this time? I'll scream and beg you to stop and you'll just fuck me harder and call me a whore-"

He couldn't bear to hear it. "Stop it! I can't erase what I've done, but I've tried to move beyond that. What do you want me to do? What will satisfy you? Do you want me to apologise? I'm sorry! There! Are you happy?"

Crossing his arms, Harry shook his head, his eyes cold. "Words are meaningless from a manipulative bastard like you. You need to show your contrition and really mean you're sorry, you selfish bastard."

"I don't want that!" he insisted. "I want you to treat me like a person—not an object! You need to treat me like someone you want to date!"

Exactly what he'd spent days trying to do! "You fool! What do you think I've been doing? Do you think I invited you to dinner so I could talk to Adam?"

Harry's eyebrows knitted together and his arms uncrossed. He stared at Severus with confusion, then said, "It was ... a date?"

"Stupid?" Harry's hands clenched into fists, his eyes fiery. "You're the proud, stubborn bastard who's too stupid to say, 'I'm sorry I was such a fucking prick, Harry. Let me make it up to you by taking you on a date.' How the fuck was I supposed to know it was a date if you didn't tell me?"

Harry sputtered. "I don't know, but you've told me a hundred times you think Quidditch is a silly sport!"

Shrugging helplessly, Harry said, "You handed me a jar of smelly, slimy orange stuff that looked like something Buckbeak tossed up and said, 'Don't touch it or it'll kill you.' What am I supposed to think of that?"

"You brew with me. Surely you can appreciate rare and difficult to collect ingredients."

"Not when you don't tell me what the fuck it is." He saw Severus begin to object and continued on, "Yeah, you said it was called—whatever it was called. But I don't know what it was. I'm not a Potions Master. I don't know shite about rare ingredients. Look-" He threw up his hands. "-this is pointless. Even if I did muck up your planned date by bringing Adam along, you should've known that he's not interested in me at all. Even if he was—you should trust me to be loyal! You had no right to be a bastard—to either of us—and I don't want to be with someone who's an absolute prick to my close friends, even if you've stopped being a prick to me."

Running his hand through the tangled mess of his hair, Harry sucked in a deep breath and said in a softer tone, "Thanks for the book and the...."

Harry bit his lip, and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting around the garden. Glancing back at Severus, he said, "D'you want to eat dessert together later? We can talk about the Malfoy commissions."

"I'll see you in the library at nine." With that, Harry turned and walked away, his robes billowing behind him.

Sunday, 19 September, 10:43 PM

Severus glanced over the photos crowding the mantelpiece. There, on the far corner, were several of Charlie, including one of Harry and Charlie dancing at William's wedding. Neither of them had any grace, but they didn't care—Harry was too absorbed in Charlie and Charlie in him. Harry had been smaller then, a skinny, awkward boy, his pale slender arms half the size of Charlie's thick ones.

They'd been in love as much as he and Harry'd been in love, but Charlie had died defending Harry. He was just another loved one of Harry's to pass away, protecting him. Severus couldn't even claim that for himself. Why had he undertaken such a dangerous project? He had everything he could want: a handsome, rich, powerful lover; a thriving business with his own well-stocked private lab; and a steady supply of friends and acquaintances. He would've had to have been mad to give it up, mad to give Harry up.

Even if Endell had tampered with the spell or otherwise caused his downfall, he'd still been foolish enough to experiment. He'd allowed his perfect life to go to his head and became lazy enough to make an error.

He wanted that perfect life back. Since their row after the date, he and Harry had begun to chat and spend time together outside of the lab, but it hadn't gone back to the casual intimacy they'd shared before.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway behind him, and he turned away from the pictures to see Harry enter the room.

"I've never been as fond of the gingers as you." Severus turned back to the pictures. He'd agreed to attend Granger's birthday party at the Burrow because it had seemed the proper thing to do. He didn't mind the first few hours, but even with ample amounts of whiskey, he could not tolerate them for too long.

Harry strode across the room. Scanning the pictures, he plucked off the shelf the one of him with all the Weasley boys together. Another picture from the wedding, he stood wrapped in Charlie's arms. Smiling at the picture, he said, "Six years seems like a lifetime ago. At the time, I thought myself an adult, but when I look back now, sometimes I can't believe I managed to defeat Voldemort."

"Notwithstanding Dumbledore's terrible mess of a plan, all you had to do was to be willing to lay down your life. In the seven years I've known you, you've never shown any restraint or sense of self-preservation. At eleven you unknowingly attempted to thwart the Dark Lord. At thirteen you were surrounded by Dementors who tried to suck out your soul, and a known murderer was supposedly intent on killing you, yet you repeatedly sneaked out of the castle. How you managed to make it to seventeen alive is beyond me."

Harry smiled slightly and put the picture back on the mantelpiece. "Yeah, but I had a lot of help." He turned back to Severus, his eyes brightening. "Who would've thought such a beautiful doe could come from an ugly, old man?"

With anyone else, it would have been an insult and he would've been furious, but Harry had the look of a mischievous imp and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Who would've thought that such an arrogant, stupid brat could've learnt to follow directions?"

"Oh...." With a glint in his eyes, Harry slid closer. The scent of that exquisite cologne wafted off of him, quickening the pace of Severus's heart. Stopping a mere foot away, Harry said in a husky voice, "I learn well under certain types of instruction. Perhaps you'd would like a demonstration of what I've learned?"

He said nothing, but Harry must've seen a look in his eyes, for he smirked and continued, "I'm sure I can teach you a thing-"

"Harry! What're-" Ronald stopped in the doorway. "Oh," he said, blinking at the two of them. "Uh, we'll be cutting the cake soon."

Shrugging, Harry said, "I can't miss that," and strode out of the room, past a startled Ronald.

Tuesday, 21 September, 7:34 AM

When Strix arrived with a letter that was possibly mistakenly addressed to Severus, he knew exactly where to find Harry. Although the boy only used to work out every other day, Harry had taken to spending every morning in the gym, whether workday or weekend. It was impossible not to notice that his efforts were paying off. It had been almost two months since Severus had last seen him naked, but already he'd sculpted his torso beautifully. Still lean and trim rather than bulky, fat clung to his body only where it enhanced him, leaving the rest of his form supple yet strong.

Harry had become a beautiful work of art—a sublime beauty unmatched by any marble. Severus's very own Ganymede.

It was hard not to think of Harry as his, even though Harry wouldn't let him touch him. There had been many moments of close encounters, but never so much as a graze. Never did Harry allow any part of Severus's body to get closer than within a foot of his. It was the only time Severus wished for a smaller lab. It wouldn't have been so bad if Harry didn't insist on walking from the gym to his room every morning, wearing shorts that barely covered his arse. The most frustrating part of his beauty was that Severus had once possessed it completely. If he'd not, he would have dismissed Harry as out of his reach—an impossible ideal he could never obtain.

But Harry had given that body to him! Eagerly, openly, he'd begged to have Severus run his hands over those firm abs and lean thighs. He'd crawled across the floor to have a chance to taste Severus's cock even though his own was perfect. A perfection that Severus hadn't even had a chance to catch a glimpse of since Harry's birthday, when he had forced his will upon Harry, and expected him to enjoy it. If Harry did get hard in Severus's presence anymore, he kept it well-hidden, even with the flimsy material he wore during his workout.

Although their friendship had improved considerably to the point where they'd had a few successful dates, there was still a wall between them that Severus could not penetrate. He enjoyed the friendship, but it wasn't enough, he needed more.

Steeling himself, Severus pushed open the door of the gym and strode over to where Harry perched on a rowing machine. Keeping his eyes on Harry's face rather than his sweaty pectorals, Severus thrust out the letter. "This mistakenly came with my post." He suspected that it was meant for him, but it was better to be sure, and, if it was for him, he had no idea what it meant or what he was supposed to do with it.

Standing, Harry wiped his hands on a towel and took an unnecessary step forward to collect the letter from Severus. The letter contained a case number with an Auror name Severus vaguely remembered as former student—Brian Millburn.

"Oh," said Harry, his eyebrows rising. "This is for you. Brian wants you to consult on a case. It's probably one that deals with potions. We're not allowed to print the details on out-going post, so we give our consultants the case number and Auror name, and you go into the Ministry of Magic and ask for the details. They'll give you an edited case file without the names of the people or any other identifying characteristics. If you decide to take the case, you let them know and then they'll set up an appointment for you to meet Brian and learn the details." Harry glanced up at Severus. "I'm surprised he asked you."

Severus took the letter back from Harry's loose fingers. "I'm a Potions Master who has consulted on Ministry cases before. I see no reason why he shouldn't."

"It's just odd because I normally get the potion cases," said Harry, frowning as he scrubbed his hair with his towel, making it even more barbaric. His glasses were askew, his face red. He stood close enough that the musky, pungent smell of him filled the air, crowding out Severus's thoughts.

The towel stopped. Harry's gaze darted to Severus and glanced over him. After a pause, he resumed rubbing the towel across his neck and said, "That's what happens when you work out. You should try it sometime, you could use some muscles in those stick-like arms of yours."

Severus's gut tightened and he scoffed. "We are wizards. We have no use for brawn, and the cultivation of such is a waste of time."

One moment he was standing in front of Harry, the next he was on the floor, Harry on top of him, hands lightly squeezing his neck. How could a man so slender and short be so strong?

Severus had no doubt Harry could kill him. But he wouldn't—he wasn't that type of wizard. But he could.

Harry flew up in the air by his ankle, but not before he tightened his fists around Severus's neck, dragging him up too. Unable to breathe, unable to see, Severus released him, casting a Stinging Hex on the hands crushing his neck.

He slammed into the floor, Harry pinning him again: one hand on each wrist, his sinewy body laid flat over Severus's.

"Cheater," chuckled Harry, his breath stirring the hair near Severus's ear. "I said no magic. Push me off of you without any magic."

He had learnt to duel for his life, not in games, and the smell of salt and earth radiating from Harry made it impossible to think. If only the illness hadn’t sapped his strength! There was no way he could push Harry off of him without magic unless he used a potentially deadly counterattack. Those strong fingers could have broken his neck, but he couldn't hurt him. He couldn't hurt Harry even as the other man killed him.

"No." Scrambling off, Harry escaped out of Severus's easy targeting range. "I said no cheating!" He stood, straightening his back, and said, "You made me like this, you know."

"Mental?" Severus stood up and brushed off his clothes, trying to ignore the full cock threatening to burst through his smalls.

"No, this body." Harry strode forward. "Ordinarily, I would've had to spend hours here-" He waved his hand around the gym. "-to maintain it. You developed a potion for me to drink after each workout that helps build, shape, and maintain muscles without getting bulky. I used a modified version on your body after you became bed-ridden so that your muscles wouldn't atrophy. What do you think?" He flexed his biceps and grinned. "Is it working?"

Inexplicably drawn forward, Severus let his gaze openly feast upon the bared flesh before him. Most of Harry's sweat had transferred to his robes, but there were still patches where Harry's skin glistened: his shoulders and across the small patch of hair on his chest, down his sides and over his biceps.

Harry grabbed his wrist with capable fingers. "I didn't give you permission to touch me." There was a hard strength in the vine-snake green of his eyes, but the coldness and anger had melted away days ago.

Refusing to back down, Severus met his eyes. "You asked me if it is working. As a Potions Master, I need to examine the...." 'Merchandise' and 'subject' would probably get him nowhere, so he settled on, "...patient, in order to give an honest assessment."

His grip relaxing, Harry released Severus's wrist. He unflexed and flexed his arm, his eyes never leaving Severus's. "All right then. Go ahead. Touch it."

Severus needed no other encouragement. Shooting out a hand, he wrapped his fingers around that well-chiseled limb. The coiled muscle sat beneath the skin, tense and sturdy. He could feel Harry's power, his strength. Despite the fact that he was just touching Harry's arm, he'd never been more turned on in his life. It didn't help matters when Harry said, "D'you feel how hard it is?" in a deep, rough voice.

Swallowing hard, Severus said, "The potion appears to be working satisfactorily on your upper arms."

Shifting, Severus spread his hands flat over the other man's chest, just above the burnt sienna nipples. Harry's quick heartbeat pulsed through his fingers, mingling with his own. Although some men had pectorals large enough to look more like breasts, Harry's had a nice small swell that subtly emphasized his masculinity. Sliding his hands down the flesh, Severus dipped his thumbs in the ovoid scar on Harry's sternum. Scott had thought the scars detracted from Harry's beauty, but Severus thought they only enhanced it. From the 'I must not tell lies' carved in his hand, to the wisps of white across his torso and limbs from various unknown injuries, to the lightning bolt jutting across his forehead, they all were perfect.

He cupped Harry's pectorals, feeling the nipples pebble beneath his palms. "It appears to be nicely formed." He brushed his hands back and forth, enjoying the contrast of the soft skin and the peaked nipples.

Harry stared at him with the expression of a hungry dragon. It was obscene to be so craved. He half-expected to be thrown to the floor and pounced upon at any moment.

His breath hitching in his throat, his eyes concentrated on Harry's, he let his hands drift down Harry's torso, brushing his thumbs over the nipples as his fingers trailed over the well-defined hairless abdomen presented to him for exploration. Lower and lower, his fingertips slid across the swells and dipped into the shallow valleys of Harry's abdominal muscles. His fingers brushed the top of Harry's shorts, and Harry shoved him away.

"I'll be late for work." Harry turned, Summoned his clothing and wand, and strode from the room without a backwards glance.

Severus stood in the gym, hard and wanting, feeling as though he'd been stopped in the middle of sex even though he'd not done anything more than touch Harry's muscles. Collecting the letter from the floor, he headed straight to his room. He needed a shower.

Friday, 24 September, 1:23 PM

After nearly a week of teasing, Severus had had enough. Harry would approach close enough to touch, and occasionally allow an above the waist touch, but their contact was always interrupted by something. Either Harry rushed off to work, Kreacher interrupted with dinner, or one of the many guests who always seemed to be coming to their home cut short their time together. In the potions lab, Severus focused on brewing, and, at dinner, Harry only remained seated as long as Severus did.

Harry was so bloody obvious in his games, even the portraits were well aware of what he was doing. Phineas handed out excuses for Harry to use to escape, while Paracelsus offered to leave so the two of them could get some 'much needed privacy'.

Not that Severus minded at first. Just as Harry pretended to not want him, he pretended that he didn't want Harry. He knew he would have Harry eventually, and the days of play were just an extended bout of foreplay. Cat and mouse was always a fun game to play—especially when one didn't know exactly which position was held by whom. However, his resolve to outlast Harry had been broken the night before when Harry had come in all dirty and sweaty from an impromptu Quidditch game, invited Severus to wash off his back, then left to return to his friends.

Now, as Severus strode through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, having just solved Brian's Auror case, he decided he deserved a reward. Admittedly, it had been an astonishingly easy case to solve—anyone with the basic understanding of how Datura poisons worked could've pieced the clues together, but no matter. He had solved it and he wanted Harry for his prize, subtlety and games be damned. Besides, a Gryffindor like Harry would probably appreciate blunt bravado and brutal honesty over crafty manipulation.

At his knock, the door swung open and Harry blinked at him in surprise. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Severus marched into the room, shutting the door behind him. "I've solved my case. Datura poisoning."

Severus swept across the room, grabbed Harry, and pushed him against the desk. "I want you."

A tremor ran through Harry as he sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes glowed, but his lips curled into a sneer. "So? Why should I care?"

The little cock-tease. He'd been wanting it for days. Severus grabbed his hair and kissed him.

Harry shoved him back. "Don't ever do that again." He pushed away from the desk. "I'm working."

"Not anymore." Severus again shoved him back against the desk, using his groin to pin Harry in place. Harry smacked him hard across the face. Ignoring the fiery pain in his cheek, Severus kissed him once more.

Roughly, Harry kissed him back, his teeth scraping against Severus's lips, just enough to hurt a little. Suddenly, he kicked out his legs, knocking Severus back.

"No," he panted. "You can't just decide that you want me and I'll give you whatever you want, when you want it. It doesn't work that way.''

Severus swooped in again, grabbing him and holding him tightly. "But I want you." Wrapping his arms around Harry, he pulled him against him and growled in his ear, "I need to have you."

Severus pulled back, meeting Harry's angry eyes. "I know I don't. I don't know why you want me, but I know you do. You've been teasing me for days and I can't stand it any longer. I need to have you."

Harry's eyes flashed hot, a smirk playing at his lips. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

Harry grabbed Severus's hair and tugged on it. "I know that. Tell me what you want to do to me."

"I want to bury my cock deep in your arse." Severus leant forward and gently bit Harry's earlobe, drawing a shiver from the other man. Licking and nibbling on the flesh between his words, he whispered, "I'll fuck you so hard and deep, you'll not be able to think about anything but my cock. Nothing but my cock in your arse."

"I'll wrap my hand around your cock and I'll make you come," Severus said, grinding his hips against Harry's. Harry groaned, his eyelashes fluttering, his fingers yanking hard on Severus's hair while his other hand curled around Severus's back to hold him in place. "You'll come with my cock deep in your arse, fu-"

Someone knocked on the door and Harry shoved Severus away. Smoothing down his robes, Severus conjured a chair and sat in it.

Kingsley glanced at Harry, gave Severus a quick, curious look, then asked Harry, "Am I interrupting?"

"No! No." Harry scratched the back of his neck and stepped back, motioning for Kingsley to enter. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Severus." Kingsley nodded at Severus who gave him a nod in return. Turning his attention back to Harry, Kingsley said, "I'd like all the available Aurors to gather for a meeting on how we will divide up the caseload, as a few individuals have expressed problems with our current system. I read the report you filed last week, but do you have anything else to add to that?"

Harry had recovered himself and looked the perfect Auror. He shook his head and said, "No, not at all."

"All right, I'll see you in ten minutes in the Cliodna meeting room." With a wave of his hand, he left.

Standing, Severus swept over to him. "I'll see you tonight." With that, he grabbed Harry, kissed him, and left.

6:02 PM

When Harry finally stumbled out of the Floo nearly five hours later, Severus was waiting for him in the parlour. They took one look at each other, and flew towards each other as if drawn by gravitational forces. Furniture only impeded them, and Severus flung it to the side, clearing a path.

Although he had imagined this moment over and over, nothing in his mind could compare to the reality of how it felt to hold Harry, smell him, and taste him. He wanted to sink inside the other man and just lie there, entwined together for hours. How could he have endured so many months without him? He didn’t care what it took—what he’d have to do—he would convince Harry to let him have him.

Harry seemed to need no persuasion at all. He had already stripped out of his Auror robes and wore only a white button-down shirt and black trousers. The thin layer of cloth was just enough to trap and intensify the smell of him. His strong arms wrapped around Severus, his mouth seeking every inch of Severus’s jaw to lick and kiss. He shoved Severus against a sofa, climbed on top of him, and pinned him against the cushions.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, his hips grinding down against Severus’s, a wicked grin playing across his face.

Severus yanked him down for a bruising kiss before he answered, "That meeting took too damn long."

"That meeting was over hours ago," said Harry with a feral glint in his eyes. "Tell me again how much you want me." His fingers tore at the buttons on Severus’s frock coat. "Do you want me so much that it hurts?"

"Oh, yes." His chest burned and boiled as if it were about to erupt. He couldn’t stand the idea of Harry walking away from him—not when they’d come so far. "Harry, I need you."

At the sound of his name, the hardness disappeared from Harry’s eyes and he pressed his mouth hungrily against Severus’s, his tongue claiming Severus's and drawing a moan of desire from both of them. That recognition of mutual want was enough for Severus to pull back, cast a spell, and yank open Harry’s shirt—now free of buttons. Harry gave a half groan, half whimper, his pupils wide and his cheeks flushed pink.

"Merlin, you’re so fucking sexy," he groaned, his fingers tearing at Severus’s buttons. "But goddamnit, why do you have to wear so many fucking clothes? How the fuck-"

Severus popped open Harry's trousers, casting the spell on his own clothing as he did so. He sat up and Harry yanked back the fabric with an infectious hunger.

A pop sounded next to the sofa, and there stood Kreacher. "Master Harry, visitors have arrived."

"What the bloody-" Leaping off of Severus, Harry scrambled for his clothes. "You're not supposed to show them in when I'm busy!" he yelled as he pulled on his shirt, and transfigured a zipper to close it.

Severus glared at Kreacher. Although he suspected the house-elf had invited the guests in just to interrupt the two of them, they had to be sufficiently important to even attempt to show up at Harry's home unannounced. While Harry hopped around, pulling on his clothes and cursing, Severus left to see whom he could yell at.

Ginevra and Adam stood in the foyer. Upon Severus's entrance, Ginevra ran over and threw her arms around him.

Abandoning Severus, Ginevra focused her attack on Harry. "Adam proposed!" She shoved out her hand, displaying a bright blue sapphire flanked by diamonds.

They were dating? Severus shot a glance at Adam, who wore a stupid smile on his face, even though his fiancée was draped over another man.

"That's wonderful! Congratulations!" Harry grabbed her and swung her around and the two of them laughed. "It's perfect!"

"I know!" She grabbed Harry and held him at arm's length. "And Adam said that if you wanted to...." Her eyes flickered over to Severus. "...do that thing we talked about last year, he'd be fine with it."

"Oh!" said Harry, his eyes darting back and forth between them. "Well- uh, that'll not be for a while yet."

"Will it?" Her eyes trailed down Harry's body, taking in the disheveled state of his clothing.

Ginevra gave Harry a sly wink and she smacked him on the arm. "Well, don't invite us in, then!" Breaking away from Harry, she slid over to wrap her arm around Adam. "Let's tell your mum," she told him. "And leave these two alone to have some fun."

"See you later." Adam waved at them before he and Ginevra disappeared into the Floo with a flash.

Severus stared after them, still surprised that the two of them had been dating. He had noticed that Ginevra hung on Adam's arm on occasion, but she draped herself over Harry more. "She spends more time on your arm than his," observed Severus, knowing he was in dangerous territory with his comment.

"We are best mates, and she lives with him, so she sees him more than me." Harry strode over, stopping within arm's reach. "He's the only bloke she's ever lived with and not wanted to kill within the first week. He makes her happy." Reaching forward, he grabbed Severus's hands and placed them around his waist. "But enough of that. Weren't we in the middle of something?" Harry tilted his face up, his lips enticingly close.

Severus bent down and kissed him. Slowly, the sense of urgency broken, they headed back to the parlour, kissing and stumbling over their feet. Once in the parlour, Harry pushed Severus back. "After what you did, I require proof that you've changed your ways. I want you to suck me off."

"Sit, then." Severus shoved him back into a chair. Bending to his knees, he undid the fastenings on Harry's trousers and pulled out the cock trapped inside. Even if Harry hadn't requested it, he would've sucked him off. There was something undeniably erotic about the fat flesh pulsing in his hand. Shifting forward, he sucked in the musky smell of Harry and tasted him with a long, slow swipe of the tongue.

Merlin, it was huge. How would he ever fit it down his throat? He'd try his best. Grabbing the base, he perseveringly sucked down the length of him.

As Severus gagged and choked, tears dotting his eyes, Harry chuckled and said, "Sit, I'll give you a lesson. I forgot I was the first guy you ever slept with."

Although he had read a fair few books on gay sex in order to prepare for Harry, intimacy in theory was nothing like it in practise. Besides, he'd never turn down head from Harry. Switching positions, Severus settled back in the chair while Harry stripped off his clothing.

Settling between Severus's legs when he finished, Harry said with a cheeky grin, "You must address me as 'Professor' while I'm teaching you."

"Mmm," Harry purred. "I love the sound of that." His fingers roamed up Severus's frock coat.

Harry swallowed back a laugh and adopted what he probably thought was a serious expression, but had too much amusement in his eyes and twitching lips for Severus to take him seriously. "I had a three year internship, and I've practised on myself for over a decade."

"Practiced on yourself?" Severus arched an eyebrow and released Harry's hands. "I didn't realise you were that flexible."

"I wish!" Harry grinned. "I'm not only a Professor of oral sex. I'll teach you many things." His fingers worked down the buttons of Severus's frock coat. "Now, giving head is about more than just the penis. If we're having a quickie in the loo or something, that's one thing, but when we do it properly, the recipient should be naked."

Severus helped him remove the frock coat and undo his trousers. Watching Harry bent over, untying his shoelaces, was enough to send his heart pounding with the expectation of what was to come.

Sitting back, Harry's eyes roamed over Severus's bared body. He licked his lips, met Severus's eyes with a calm strength, and said, "The most important thing to remember is that I don't want obligatory head. Sometimes it's unavoidable, but if you are just sucking me off to get a chance to fuck me or because you feel that you owe me—don't. I want you to suck me because you love it. I'm doing this because I lo- I care about you. Giving you pleasure—watching you squirm—nothing makes me happier. If I just wanted my dick sucked, I could get that. I want you. I want you to want me. Because of that, what you do with your mouth is only secondary to what you do with your eyes. Watch."

Lowering his eyes to the prick before him, Harry leant forward. Slowly, he dragged his tongue from the base of Severus's cock to the tip. The feel of Harry's warm, talented tongue sliding up his shaft was enough to draw a moan from his throat.

Pulling back when he finished, Harry lifted his eyes, and repeated the action, his intense gaze never wandering from Severus's. Fuck! Harry looked like an incubus ready to suck out his soul.

Smugly, Harry said, "When you suck me, keep your eyes on my face. Show me how much you want my dick—how much you want me."

He did it again, slowly, teasingly, and, for Severus, to have those eyes staring at him made him feel like he was the only thing that mattered in Harry's world—the only thing Harry had ever wanted.

"Don't just touch my dick," said Harry, his hands roaming and caressing Severus's thighs. "Massage my bum, finger me, pinch my nipples, play with my balls...." He cupped Severus's balls, rolling them in his fingers. "When I get too close too soon, massage my balls away from my body. The pleasure isn't from the orgasm, but from seeing you enjoy it." He smiled up at Severus and played with the soft sac for a moment longer before he continued, "Use your tongue all over me. Rim me, suck my balls, lick my thighs. Use that gorgeous nose of yours too. One of my favourite things you do to me is when you use your nose to stimulate the buried part of my cock."

Placing a finger on the tip of Severus's cock, Harry dragged it down. "Your penis doesn't end at the balls. It goes beneath them." Hooking his hands under Severus's knees, Harry pushed his legs up and apart. He buried his head in Severus's crotch, shoving his nose in between the balls.

"Nnn...." Severus bit his lip, his cock spitting out pre-come. None of the books had mentioned it, and he'd never discovered it in his own explorations.

Harry's tongue swiped out to stroke the skin as he rubbed his nose up and down the sensitive flesh. His hands joined the sensual assault, scratching Severus's arse, petting his thighs, and massaging his calves.

Severus had no idea so much pleasure could be wrung from his body without a single brush against his cock. Merlin! Harry knew when to press harder, when to scratch with his nails, and when to caress the flesh with tenderness. They had barely started and already Severus's body was vibrating. He couldn't stop admiring the man kneeling before him, but especially those eyes!

He'd always loved the beauty of those eyes, but never had they been erotic by themselves. As much as Harry's body spurred his pleasure, it was those eyes that left him panting and clutching cushions. Harry wanted him. Harry loved him.

Unable to control his desire any longer, Severus grabbed Harry's shoulders, pushed him back, and swooped down to plant a hungry kiss on Harry's soft lips. Harry melted into the kiss, his hands still roaming over Severus's thighs. After far too short a moment, Harry yanked away.

Smirking, Harry pulled down Severus's foreskin with one hand. "This part here-" Harry licked it with the tip of his tongue. "-is called the frenulum. I think it's the most pleasurable part to stimulate. You like it when I lightly bite it. I like it when you lick it like this." He closed his mouth over the head of Severus's cock and flickered the tip of his tongue over the delicate skin. Up and down. Up and down.

The things Harry could do with his tongue! After so much teasing and build up, Severus's balls grew tight, eager to spill their load, but Harry circled a thumb and forefinger around the top of the balls and massaged them down. The glint in the green eyes showed he knew exactly what he was doing.

It was easy to lose himself in the pleasure of those talented hands and mouth. But through it all, even when Harry slid him along the edge of the precipice, he never lost track of who was the source of his sweet agony. Harry's voice faded to a meaningless buzz, and Severus could only nod as Harry demonstrated technique after technique, with his teeth, tongue, lips, and fingers. The smell of the sofa, of the paint, so many little things mingled with and overrode the scent of Harry. All he had left were Harry's touch and gaze, and those eyes were the focus of his world.

When Harry swallowed him and hummed around him, Severus nearly shot off the cushions, but never did he lose track of the exquisite shade of green. It was only when Harry again took him deep enough to press his nose into Severus's pubic hair, massaged his balls with one hand, stroked his belly with another, and did something with his throat to send vibrations shooting up and down the shaft, that Severus lost total control, closed his eyes, and came.

Harry guided him through the wild ride, pulling pleasure from him so intense, he felt as though he would split in half.

When his heart finally stopped trying to burst from his chest, he opened his eyes to see Harry still on his knees, and still with a look of pure sex on his face.

A vial flew across the room towards Harry, and he snatched it from the air without looking. Pouring the contents onto the fingers of his right hand, he leant forward and wrapped his left hand around Severus's spent penis, sucking the organ into his mouth again.

After such an intense orgasm, Severus didn't think he had the possibility of another erection for hours. Unperturbed by the non-reaction of the soft flesh, Harry worked and worked and coaxed it back to life. One hand busy between his legs, the other clinging to Severus's cock, he teased Severus back to hardness before climbing in his lap.

"We'll have more lessons later," he said with a grin. "I want to have you now." The grin faded and the hardness returned to his eyes. "It's a shame you were such an arsehole and mucked up what was your first time inside of me, as far as you knew. It was the worst fucking I've ever received, and I'm not just referring to the physical pain." Harry paused, as if waiting for a response, and Severus didn't need Legilimency to know what Harry wanted—what he needed.

Severus cupped Harry's face in his hands, his eyes focused on Harry's. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "I've also read books since then, to be sure that I don't cause you any pain."

Harry's face relaxed and his eyes lost their hard glint. "Mmm ... good," he said, reaching out to caress Severus's cheek. With that, Harry bent forward, and gave him a soft kiss before pulling back.

Reaching down between their bodies, Harry took a dick in each hand and pressed the tips against each other, rubbing the glans up and down. Slowly, he pushed his foreskin up and around Severus's glans, the warm, spongy skin enveloping Severus like a soft glove made of the purest silk. Pulling back down, hand over hand, he rolled Severus's foreskin over his own cock and squeezed, trapping the delicate flesh between his warm hand and erect cock.

Severus gasped, his fingers grabbing onto Harry's arms. He'd never been so intimately connected to another person. Harry held him both inside and around that exquisitely tender band of flesh.

"Your body remembers." Harry alternated between enveloping Severus in his flesh or burying himself in Severus's, going deeper and deeper with each pass. He took Severus inside of his soft skin and rubbed their glans together, around and around, their pre-come giving the foreskin a slick glide. Pushing back his foreskin, he rolled Severus's over their joined cock tips and rubbed his cock around in circles.

Fuck! Not only could he feel Harry's thick prick rubbing against his own hardness, but also the intense, sensual stimulation of his foreskin—both from the cock moving inside and the hand pressed around it.

Abruptly, Harry released both of their dicks, called his wand, and transfigured the chair: widening it and creating two posts behind him with flat, rectangular tops. Lifting his arse, he grabbed Severus's cock, pulled up his bollocks, and planted his pucker on the top of Severus's manhood. Closing his eyes, he threw back his head and pushed down. Although Severus hadn't forgotten the tight heat of Harry's body, the previous experience was a pale shadow of this glorious new one.

Harry's arse took him easily, stretching even as it held a firm grip. Bliss swept across Harry's face as he settled himself down onto Severus's cock. This was how it should have been. This was how it should always be. He scratched the back of Harry's neck and was rewarded with a deep moan, Harry's eyes rolling back in his head.

"Fuck yessss...." breathed Harry, his face screwed up in pleasure. He sank deeper and deeper, sucking Severus inside his impossibly tight body. "Fuck! Fuck, I love your cock!"

Severus hauled him forward for hungry kisses, scratching at the back of his neck the entire time. Harry scratched Severus's neck, bit him lightly, and kissed him back. Pulling away after a bit, he planted his feet on the back of the chair and his palms on the hand rests. Using his legs, Harry pumped his hips, his cock waving in the air as he fucked himself on Severus's dick.

The sinuous movement of Harry's thighs as they flexed and unflexed mesmerised Severus. Never had he appreciated those slender but muscular limbs so much. His hips rose up to meet Harry's downward thrusts, and he let his hands roam over Harry's legs and groin—playing with his balls, teasing his cock, stroking his thighs, trying to draw from Harry the most delicious sounds of pleasure that he could.

Although Harry's body held him tight, the centre of Severus's thoughts wasn't on his cock. Somehow, Harry's face had become a mirror, and each bit of pleasure he saw in the other man was as intense as his own. He felt his own moans, every gasp, and each flash of ecstasy reflected back to him in Harry's eyes. His only desire was to drive Harry higher and higher and return to him every bit of pleasure that he felt.

Leaning forward, he sent them both tumbling to the floor. A hasty transfiguration created soft cushioning to catch them, but the sudden fall startled Harry, who clung to Severus. Placing his hands on either side of Harry's shoulders, Severus pounded into him. A stream of curse words and love phrases poured from Harry's lips—his eyes wild. Severus barely felt the nails tearing up his back. There was only Harry.

All too soon, Harry's body squeezed him in rhythmic contractions and warm come shot out between them. Harry's orgasm stroked Severus's cock, and he drove even further into his lover, overcome by waves of bliss, not wanting Harry's pleasure to end. Still canting his hips, Severus bent down for a sloppy, desperate kiss.

Panting for breath, his body limp, Harry weakly pulled Severus against him, their sweaty chests rubbing together. So caught up in Harry, Severus failed to notice he was still hard until Harry squeezed around his cock. Pulling out, he reached down to finish himself off, but Harry pushed him onto his side and shot a hand down to wrap around his wet cock.

"Fuck, I've missed you," whispered Harry, his hand sliding over the red, swollen skin. "You've no idea how long I've dreamt of this. I still can't believe you're alive. I keep thinking that I'll wake to find you gone again."

Smiling, Harry quickened his hand. His eyes never leaving Harry's, Severus came.

Bending down, Harry licked Severus's stomach clean. "Mmmm.... Let's eat and then have a go in our bed afterwards."

Saturday, 25 September, 1:13 PM

Severus woke with an arm splayed across his chest. He never slept past noon except when he was sick, and his mouth felt dry and dusty. Carefully disentangling himself from Harry and the sheets, he slipped from the bed and plodded to the bathroom. After a night of sex, he had fallen asleep, woke at seven AM, woke Harry with his mouth, and then shagged for three hours before falling back asleep. Now, his stomach rumbled its dismay at being so empty at such a late hour. Ignoring it for the moment, he grabbed his mouthwash.

Harry soon stumbled into the bathroom. Wearing nothing at all, he yawned and stretched like a house-cat before scratching his belly and blinking at Severus. The left side of his head had the hair sticking straight up while the right side went to the right, the back clung to his scalp and his fringe couldn't decide which way to go. Peering at the vials and toiletries scattered over the sinks, Harry rearranged his side. "Believe it or not, these skin lotions are yours." He shoved the containers back over to Severus's side. Almost as an afterthought, he pushed the razor over, too.

Shaking his head, Severus put toothpaste on his toothbrush. "Nonsense, I never shave with razors."

As his toothbrush was in his mouth, Severus just raised an eyebrow at Harry. What was with his continuous need to argue about these pointless little things, even now?

Letting the subject drop, Harry turned back towards his reflection in the mirror on his half and put toothpaste on his brush. "D'you want to try to break our old record? Eight times in one day."

5:56 PM

By the time they finally made it to the library, it was late enough in the day that they decided to have an early dinner.

"Ha! I knew it!" cried Paracelsus as soon as they both walked in together. "What did I tell you?" he asked Phineas excitedly. "I knew they couldn't last two months."

"Once we finish with this newest batch of commissions," said Harry, "we should go on holiday."

"You should," said Phineas, his voice dry. "I've heard Athens is lovely this time of year."

Ever since Severus had realised that he had been nearly killed by an accident, Phineas had been in an even more sour mood than normal. Severus had no idea why he should be so disgruntled, other than he had hoped to string him along for months with his annoyingly cryptic clue. Although the exact spell that had caused him to fall ill remained a mystery, he understood why it needed to remain such, and hadn't responded to any of Phineas's provocations.

"We've not been to Athens in a while," said Harry with a shrug as he buttered his toast. "Why don't we go next weekend? I can ask for Friday off."

Phineas looked smug and Severus, unable to imagine what he was so pleased about, agreed, "I see no reason why not."

Saturday, 2 October, 2:13 PM

"I forgot how much I love Athens," said Harry in a mix of Greek and English as they left the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, stepping out of the sanctity of the museum into the bustle of the city. "A city full of baklava and statues of gorgeous, starkers men is the perfect place for me. I think we should get some more."

Severus pulled out the wizarding map that he had enchanted to look like a Muggle map. "If you mean nude male sculptures, I think four is more than enough. If you mean baklava, we ate lunch less than two hours ago."

"I'm hungry again." Harry pressed against Severus's side as he peered at the map. "Where are we going next? The Acropolis?"

"We can go there next. Have you enough money for a taxi? It's far too crowded to Apparate."

"Uh...." Harry pulled out his wallet and counted his euros. "I have no idea how much they cost or how much these things are worth. Why don't we take a metaphory mesa?"

"'Leophorio' is bus. I think you mean 'metaphoriko meso' which is a means of transport, from the word 'metaphora'....."

The spell is a metaphor. Severus had assumed Phineas had meant the literary term. He'd never thought to translate the word! Metaphor: to carry across; to translate from one domain of significance to another. It was possible that he had taken his memories out, and put them somewhere in the garden or tower. If his magical cure required him to cleanse his magic, he might have sent the magic out and through the garden, only to have it return to him, removed of impurities. His memories might have gone along with them, only to be trapped at some point in one of the many pathways. There were multiple pools and other areas of magical concentration where it was possible they had become stuck.

"Severus?" asked Harry, jarring Severus from his thoughts. "Severus, what's wrong?"

Severus shook his head. As soon as he returned home, he would investigate the matter, but for now, he would try to enjoy this moment with Harry, and ignore the burning desire to solve the last mystery that remained. "Nothing. Why don't we just walk? It's only about a half hour away, and you can buy more baklava."

"Good idea, we'll see more of the city too." Harry led the way, chattering about the exhibitions they had seen in the museum. Severus wandered beside him, trying to concentrate, but all he could think about was the unconventional garden and the obsidian and jadeite tower.

Sunday, 3 October, 9:13 PM

Severus spread the map of the garden across his desk. After hours of research, he had only been able to determine that the pools were concentrated points of energy. If his memories were contained within them, he had no idea how to find or recover them. Harry, knowing nothing about that type of magic, had been no help and had left, after dinner, to visit the Lovegood family, who had just returned from a trip abroad.

Paracelsus glanced up from the book in his hands. "The monthly staff meeting at Hogwarts."

Severus could not do any research with so much of what he needed missing. "Where are my books on gemstones?"

"Oh yes," said Paracelsus, shutting his book. "We had many a long conversation on their properties. You couldn't brew, so you had to make do with other interests."

Severus flipped the map vertically, sending it closer to Paracelsus's portrait. "I believe my memories might be hidden within the garden or the tower. I've used a variety of gemstones in its creation that I believe I used to cast the spell that saved my life." Magically highlighting them on the map, he listed off each gemstone. Pulling out the list Harry had given him earlier, he read those too.

"Ah, yes," said Paracelsus after he had heard the list. "I know all of those. Basically, bloodstone is also known as 'The Martyr's Gem', and it's used in spells of healing, especially magical illnesses. I suggested that you grind it up and use it in a potion to help heal your body. You were interested in increasing your ability to cast spells, and I suggested emerald for enhancing memory and mental focus. When you first asked me about emerald, I thought you meant to marry Harry, as emerald is often used in marriage ceremonies due to its association-"

Paracelsus would babble on for hours if Severus let him. "What about the other stones that were purchased in small quantites? Golden beryl, staurolite, and tanzanite."

"Golden beryl is often used for concentration and willpower, staurolite to enhance your magical ability, and tanzanite for protection and focusing." He paused, scratching his head. "What were the ones that you said composed the tower and walkways of the garden?"

Severus pointed to each on the map. "Obsidian—black obsidian and jadeite composed the outside of the tower, while blue obsidian lines the inside. Quartz lines the pathways, and opal, the pools. Moonstone is buried in the floor of the room."

Paracelsus nodded. "Quartz, obviously, is used for channeling. Jadeite—you might've ground that up too—is popularly used in healing spells. It has the ability to bind things together. It can act to heal wounds and convince the body to accept foreign material, if necessary. Black obsidian helps to ground and channel spells—to make sure they are cast at their intended target. Blue obsidian also helps with direction, as it can be used to form a connection with the target. It's good for astral travel, giving it purpose and direction."

"Of course," drawled Severus. The problem with Paracelsus was that there was so much rubbish in amongst what was useful. "Go on."

"Moonstone is a stone I knew you'd have difficulty using," Paracelsus wagged a finger at Severus, humour in his eyes. "But you wanted to learn about it anyway. It requires intuition and emotion rather than logic. Another stone used in marriages, it bonds individuals together and-"

"Marriage is very practical," insisted Paracelsus, but he continued, "It helps protect the travelling wizard. Oh! I almost forgot. It can also be used in healing potions, as it stabilizes a critically injured individual and stimulates rejuvenation."

Scratching his chin, he said, "Let's see...Opal is used for many purposes. Like blue obsidian, it is also used in astral travel, as it helps facilitate communication between the worlds. I've heard claims that people can use it to remove and reinsert the soul, but I could never get those potions to brew correctly. The soul's a messy thing to work with. After all-"

Tuning Paracelsus out, Severus re-examined the map, running his fingers through the garden's spirals. The spell is a metaphor. Metaphor: to carry across from one domain to another.

It couldn't be. It was impossible. Snatching a quill, he yanked a piece of parchment to write a letter to Harry. His quill paused over the parchment. He needed to be careful about this.

That night, when Harry returned home from work, Severus took him to bed straightaway. He fucked him twice. The first time he took him slow and sensual, with Harry whispering his name and coming soundlessly between their joined bodies. The second time he had him hard and rough, Harry cursing, biting, and clawing up his back like a savage creature.

Afterwards, they lay together, Harry nestled against Severus's larger body, his eyelashes fluttering on Severus's chest as he tried—and failed—to stay awake. Unable to sleep himself, Severus held him all night, hoping to prove himself wrong in the morning.

Monday, 4 October, 6:13 PM

"Hullo!" Harry kissed Severus on the cheek, and plopped into the chair Severus had set in front of his lab office desk. Running a hand through his tangled mess of wind-blown hair, he said, "What did you want to see me about that couldn't wait until seven? Is it about whatever you were obsessing over last night at dinner?"

Handing him the scrap of paper, Severus said, "Everett is a reference to Hugh Everett, a physicist who first proposed the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics. Derided at the time, his theory later gained credence, as have other multi-universe hypotheses, also known as parallel universes. You see, work on quantum mechanics has revealed that-"

"Severus," said Harry with a chuckle, holding up his hand. "No techno-babble. Tell me in the simplest terms you can."

Sighing, Severus sat down in his own chair. "There are parallel universes. Some have a structure similar to our own while others are vastly different. In these other universes our doppelgängers live parallel yet divergent lives—some similar to us and others not so similar. I am from a parallel universe. I am a doppelgänger to your Severus Snape. I had my own Harry who was different from you. Your-"

"This is not funny." Harry shook his head, his eyes steadfast behind the lenses of his glasses. "I know that you like to have a laugh by tricking me. But this-" he waved his hand.

Severus had known this wouldn't be easy. It hadn't been easy for him to accept, and he'd seen all the evidence, asked all the questions to try to prove it wrong. "I'm serious. Did you date Cho Chang?"

"No." Scoffing as if Severus had asked him if he'd dated Draco, Harry said, "She cried all the time. Why would I date her? I was jealous at the Yule Ball because I wanted Cedric, not because of her."

Of the things that were most variable between the universes, romance headed the list for reasons Severus couldn't explain. "In my universe, you did. In my universe, you never dated Charlie. You never broke up with Miss Weasley as far as I was aware." Harry shook his head, but Severus kept speaking, "The only time you were apart was when you left to hunt the Horcruxes with Granger and Mr. Weasley."

Harry threw up his hands. "All of your memories have gone to shite. Charlie was there when Nagini bit you. He saved your life!"

"He didn't. I died." Severus pulled out a strand of memory and dumped it into the Pensieve he had set up on his desk. "Look at my memory. Charlie was never there."

Eyes narrowed, Harry stood, grabbed the bowl, and shoved his head in the surface. After several minutes, he yanked his head out, and collapsed back into his chair. He slowly shook his head, his eyes staring at some point past the desk. "This is wrong. Something went wrong with your mind when you got sick."

"No," Severus gently corrected him. "In my universe, I died. My soul left my body, and was pulled into this universe. Your Severus, the one whom you had a relationship with, knew that he wouldn't be able to survive with his magic turned against him. Magic is linked to the soul and, as long as he lived in this body, his magic would eat him alive. He guessed that one of his doppelgängers had died in that moment in 1998, and set up a spell to bring me through, and put me in his body. I assume he traded places with me, and died in my body. He had a body and corrupt magic, while I had a dying body and whole magic. He gave me a chance to live after he died."

"No." Harry stared at the Pensieve. "No. No. No. NO!" He jumped to his feet and paced. "That doesn't make any fucking sense! Even if you lived in another parallel universe, you can't just jump across time!"

Softly, Severus said, "Time is not linear. Ever since Einstein showed that time is relative with his General Theory-"

"They work by creating a mini-black hole that warps the fabric of space-time. Likewise, the spell that he cast was so powerful, it warped space-time and pulled me through, not only from another dimension, but also from another space-time coordinate. Such things are simple enough if you understand the physics and mathematics. Of course, the power required to do such an act is...." Severus shook his head. "It's incredible. If it wasn't for the tower and the garden, it would've never worked. I imagine his increased magical ability helped as well. Without-"

"That's.... It's impossible! I mean, with Time-turners, you don't inhabit your old body, there are two of you! If you were pulled across, then there would be two of you! There should be two of you! How can you make it so just the soul goes across? How d'you know that the magic isn't linked to the body?"

"I know that magic isn't linked to the body because I wouldn't be here if my magic were linked to my body. I would've died. My body didn't come across because it died in my world, and his spell ensured that my soul would inhabit his body."

"Look." Severus pulled out the list he had compiled. "All of our discrepancies that I've gathered so far. Most of them are little things, but there are some big changes. Tonks married Lupin in my universe and gave birth to his son." He had not attended the wedding, but he pulled out the memories of hearing of it along with the single picture that he'd seen. He had no proof of their child beyond Voldemort's word. It wasn't much, but he figured it would do more to convince Harry than any of the smaller things, like preferred potions ingredients or shaving methods. "I also accidentally cut off George Weasley's ear trying to save Lupin." Pulling the memory out, he placed it in the bowl as well. "When I saw Mr Weasley, I assumed he had somehow found a way to have it healed or it was a fake, but I gather that in this universe, it was never lost."

"They didn't at first. They were very familiar to me, but I could tell they weren't what I remembered. The two of us are doppelgängers similar enough that our differences are no more than what can be expected if a wizard goes through a period of heavy stress or illness. Patronuses aren't the only type of magic that can change under harsh conditions. I assumed the differences in my magic were due to my infirmity. That was why Kreacher never paid attention to the difference either."

"Was his," Harry jabbed an accusatory finger at Severus, "magic different when he woke?"

Kreacher peered at Severus with his nose wrinkled as if he couldn't stand to look upon him. "He is not the same, but he is Severus. Do you want me to kick him out of the house?"

Harry said nothing. Draped in the chair as if he were trying to disappear into it, his gaze remained fixed on the Pensieve.

"Here's what I- he used each of the gemstones for," said Severus, laying the scroll on the desk. He pulled out more to lay on the desk, announcing each one: "The list of each rune and how they help, the architecture of the garden, the astronomical considerations he used to try to collect a doppelgänger who would 'fit' within this universe, and the potion he probably developed in order to prevent his body from rejecting me. The Transmundo Potion. Have you ever wondered why so many herbs used in Memory Potions grow in the garden? I theorise he found a way to bring and implant my memories along with my soul as well. Since the soul and memories tend to be linked, it may not have been possible for me to survive here otherwise."

"That's enough," said Harry, holding up a hand. "I believe you." He raised his eyes to meet Severus for the first time since Severus had told him the truth. His eyes had that same lost expression Severus had seen before. In an oddly steady voice, he said, "My Severus is gone. He's never coming back."

Severus had always known it, but hearing those words on Harry's lips seemed to pull reality in, and the full weight of what had happened settled on him like a thick cloud of cauldron smoke. Just as he had feared, his entire relationship with Harry had been a sham, a shadow of a genuine bond that he had attempted to carry out in the memory of a now-dead man. There was no reason for the two of them to carry on a relationship together—if Harry would even want to. He was not Harry's Severus, and he could never be that man. Even though he had believed the illusion wholeheartedly, his belief had not been enough to make it reality. Never had he felt more set apart from Harry and the world before him. This wasn't his place. This wasn't his life.

"Did you..." Harry stared at the Pensieve again before looking back at Severus. "...have any idea? Could you have guessed?"

"No. There were small signs, I could've guessed if I knew a fraction of what he'd done. But, I had no idea. He hid it too well. If I had known, I would've never...." He waved a hand at Harry. He never would have tried to take a dead man's place. He never would have tried to sustain a relationship that had already passed. It wasn't that he'd not enjoyed his time with Harry, but that man had not been him. Even though his affections for Harry had changed over the last few months, he would never have attempted to replace what had come before. He would have approached Harry on his own terms, as the Severus Snape that he was, not as an imitation of another.

Harry stood, glaring at Severus. "I don't want you," he said. "I wish you weren't here. I wish he'd just died. I wish you'd die." Pushing past Severus, he walked from the room.

His chest achingly hollow, Severus watched Harry leave. As much as he wanted to follow, he had no right. There was nothing he could do.

7:00 PM

"I've worked it out," Severus told Phineas. "I know I'm not the Severus Snape you knew."

"What's going on?" asked Paracelsus. "What are you on about? Where's Harry? Did you do something again?"

"I don't need to know!" he said, jumping from his chair and hurrying to the edge of his frame. "Harry carries the weight of the world on his shoulders! If you've hurt him again—if whatever you've done has convinced him that you're beyond his reach forever, he'll destroy himself if he has nowhere to unleash his pain! You must go to him. Now!"

"Severus," said Phineas, "don't be a fool. The only ones who could possibly understand Harry at a time like this is the dead."

"Charlie!" cried Paracelsus, wringing his hands. "He must be with Charlie! Go! Quick!" He shooed him towards the door.

Severus burst through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, shattering the glass ahead of his flight. Up, up, up he flew, high until he broke through the wards. As soon as he could, he Apparated to Godric's Hollow where he assumed Charlie to be buried. He had seen a Weasley plot on the way to visit Lily's grave.

Cursing aloud, he dashed to the main building in order to find a map. In the growing dusk, the light was poor and there were far too many tombstones to try to read them.

The map revealed the location of Charlie's grave. He Apparated there, not caring if he splinched himself due to the lack of never seeing the location. Thankfully, the map served as guide enough and he landed in the grass with all parts in place rather than in the middle of a tombstone.

Harry was nowhere in sight. The wide, thick tombstone read, 'Charlie Gideon Weasley; Beloved son and friend; 12th December 1972 - 2 May 1998.' Harry had to be here. Crouching down on his hands and knees, Severus felt around, patting the earth and stone.

It wasn't until he touched the grass behind the tombstone that he felt fabric his eyes couldn't see. Plucking the invisible cloth between his fingers, he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry lay on his side, his eyes shut. Swooping in, Severus snatched him up, and felt for a pulse with trembling fingers. The slow, steady beat of Harry's heart almost arrested his own, and he cradled Harry to his chest, just savouring the feel of holding him. The abnormally slow, but rhythmic beat meant that Harry'd taken some sort of sleeping potion. He could still die if too much had been taken, but he was still alive and, after everything, Severus would never let him go. His hands and magic sliding over and into Harry's shirt and jeans, Severus searched for a bottle or vial to learn what Harry had ingested, but didn't find a thing. The boy didn't even have his wand on him.

Supporting Harry's head on his left arm, Severus bent his head, and sucked in the smell of Harry's breath. Definitely an Alouatta hair based sleeping potion, either taken recently or in large quantities. Gently prying open Harry's mouth, Severus swept his tongue inside. Dreamless Sleep. He'd recognise the taste of it anywhere, it was his personal favourite and he himself had been addicted once. Harry would've had to have ingested large quantities for it to be poisonous, but without having observed the boy since they parted company, it was impossible to know for certain how much he'd taken, and his heart could stop at any moment.

The realisation of that fact calmed Severus's own heart, focused his mind, and stopped his hands from shaking. He was a Potions Master. He might've mucked things up beyond repair with his words and his actions, but he knew, more than anyone, how to save Harry from potions.

He laid Harry in the grass like a sleeping infant and pulled off his outer robe. Out of habit, he had restocked his potions satchel the previous weekend and, knowing Harry's propensity for taking sleeping potions, had added a few extra ingredients. On top of the gravestone's base, he prepared his lab: fire, make-shift cauldron, and preparation block. Casting a spell to amplify Harry's breathing and heartbeat in order to monitor them, Severus set to work on the most important potion of his life. The rhythm of Harry's heart was a metronome that drove him forward, pushing him to work with the utmost care and patience.

"I'm destroying all of your sleeping potions the moment I return home," Severus informed Harry's sleeping form. "I'll not let you ruin your life."

The potion turned deep red and Severus shut off the flame then spelled air to whisk away the heat. Scooping Harry up again, he cradled him against his chest and trailed his fingers through the shock of black hair.

"You're the only thing that matters in this world—the only thing that has ever mattered in any world."

The potion faded to a soft pink and Severus plucked it off the tombstone and, tilting Harry's head back, pressed it to Harry's lips. Massaging Harry's throat to prevent asphyxiation, he focused on the closed eyes to gauge the reaction. The moment the slightest tremor ran through the line of black lashes, he pulled the vial away, returning it to the tombstone. Shifting Harry to gaze at his closed eyes, he rested his hand on Harry's chest.

Green appeared. Fuzzy, confused green, but green nonetheless. For several agonizing moments, Harry stared at some point beyond Severus. Then, he whispered, "Sev'rus?"

Stroking the soft skin of Harry's cheek, Severus said, "I gave you a potion to counteract the Dreamless Sleep."

Harry's eyes closed again, but his heart rate soared towards normal. Holding Harry in his arms, petting his cheek, Severus waited for him to fully wake.

Harry's eyes opened again and, for a split second, there was a flash of pure joy. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, grief swept it away. Harry yanked himself out of Severus's arms, clumsily scrambling to the other side of the tombstone, his body slowed by the remains of the sleeping potion still coursing through his body. He curled against the marble, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms.

Helplessly watching, Severus felt as though his guts were being yanked out by a particularly vicious curse, no matter how much he reminded himself that he didn't deserve Harry's anger—that he wasn't responsible for this. He understood why Harry refused him, but it didn't make the piercing hole in his gut go away. Unable to imagine what he could even begin to say to ease Harry's anguish, Severus busied himself with putting away his equipment.

Severus said in his best 'Professor' voice, "And let you destroy yourself? I think not."

Harry threw back his head, striking the marble. "It matters to me! That fucker! He thought he could fix everything, the arrogant bastard. Impotent? No matter, I'll just get you a new sexual partner. Dying? I'll just get you a new Severus." Harry sucked in a breath, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't want a new Severus! I want my Severus!" His voice broke and the tears flowed.

Harry bent forward, burying his face in the grass. His hands clawed at the earth, tearing up bits of soil and grass. Sobs racked his body so violently, it seemed that he would fly apart. Severus didn't know how long he sat there, watching Harry pour out his pain, but when his tears finally subsided and his body no longer shook with each breath, Harry sat up and said in a small voice, "I wish he'd died. I wish he'd died and stayed dead because now—I've lost him twice. I knew he was dying. I was ready. I was prepared. I was not prepared for his bloody ghost to live with me! He lied to me. He lied to me and tricked me. He didn't keep it a secret because he wanted us to work together—he kept it a secret because he knew I would reject you!"

"No!" Rising up on his knees, Harry banged his fists against the tombstone. "He didn't! If he had, he'd have never left me with a strange man in his body! Who knows who could've come through? What if the closest Severus had been a sadist who would've loved to torture and rape me? What then?"

Severus could not answer. He'd hurt Harry himself. Would the other Severus have ever done that?

Harry sank back down. "It was all based on guilt. He knew it was his own damn fault. It's his fault that..." He swallowed. "He left me."

Sweeping over to Harry's side, Severus knelt in the grass and extended his hand, palm up. "Come back home. I need to flush the rest of the potion from your system and you could use a strong cup of tea."

His eyes staring at the grass, Harry shook his head. "No. Go. I'll come back later."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I wasn't trying to kill myself or anything stupid like that. I just wanted to sleep." He fiddled with his sleeve, looking at everything but Severus.

Harry's eyes finally met his own. Bloodshot and shiny from the tears, they were hard but empty, like long, dark tunnels. "Go away."

"Oh, shut up!" said Harry, his face contorted into an ugly sneer. "You are nothing. You are a dead man walking around in another dead man's body. How sick is that? You're a freak. A-"

"Fuck you, arsehole! You don't belong here. You're worthless! You should be dead! Go and kill yourself!"

Severus clenched his fists. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Not even his father.

Harry jumped to his feet and spread his arms wide. "Will you hit me now? Go on, try it!"

Harry wanted to be hit. He wanted to be insulted, beaten, maybe even held down on the tombstone and raped. He wanted someone to hate other than his lover- no, other than himself. He needed someone to blame, someone else to take the pain that was eating away at him. Severus had wanted it himself twenty-two years ago, and he'd found his scapegoat in the Dark Lord. For too many years he had been consumed by the guilt of that moment, hoping to be free of it by turning his anger outward, but the self-loathing had never left him. If anything, it had mixed with the rage and multiplied.

In a low, even voice, Severus said, "I'll not be your monster. If you desire to play the martyr, find someone else." Before Harry could respond, he Apparated home, calling Kreacher as soon as he arrived.

"Alert me the moment Harry returns," he told the house-elf as he marched to the bedroom. "And don't let him near any sleeping potions."

"Yes, Master Snape," said Kreacher with a rare respect. He vanished without a sound.

Starting with their mutual bedroom, Severus collected every single sleeping potion he could find and destroyed them all. There were a few potions scattered amongst the toiletries that could be mixed together to form sleeping potions, and he removed all trace of those as well. Just to be sure, he hid all alcohol behind heavy wards, and set protective measures over the lab as a precaution.

After checking to be sure that there were no dangers lurking in the garden, he fixed himself a strong cup of tea, set up wards around the edges of the property to alert him should Harry pass through, and positioned himself in the room at the top of the tower.

It wasn't until tendrils of gold lapped against the clouds closest to the horizon that Kreacher appeared shortly before the wards rippled indicating Harry had returned.

Although Severus had never researched house-elf powers, he knew they had abilities beyond wizards, particularly when it came to protecting the members of their wizarding families. "Can you monitor him without being seen?"

"He needs to go to bed without sleeping potions. If he takes any, alert me. If he does anything stupid or dangerous, alert me. In the morning, bring him his favourite food for a meal. He may not want to eat, but we cannot let him ruin his health."

If Harry took sleeping potions every night, and had for several months, he would suffer from withdrawal. Heading to his lab, Severus set about brewing a potion to help ease Harry off of them.

Tuesday, 5 October, 7:13 AM

Ginevra jumped out of the Floo, worry written all over her face. "Where's Harry? What's happened?"

"Come." Severus motioned for her to follow him into the sitting room. "It'll take a moment to explain."

Following him into the sitting room, she perched on the edge of an armchair and clutched her hands in her lap so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

As clearly and succinctly as he could, Severus explained that he was not the Severus she remembered. At first, she just stared at him blankly, her eyebrows drawn in. When he explained what his other self had done, her brown eyes flew open, and a hand clamped over her mouth. She fell back against the chair, her face draining of colour.

Although he wanted to protect Harry's privacy, he couldn't let him hurt himself, and mentioned the situation with the sleeping potions as well. After he had said as much as he thought she needed to know, he waited for her response.

She stared at him. For a heavy moment, she said not a word. When she finally lowered her hand from her mouth she whispered, "He's gone? Completely?"

Severus slowly shook his head. "I suppose he decided to cast only the spells that were absolutely essential in order to remain alive as long as possible. Removing the memories may have drained him." Or the other Severus had hoped the new one would never discover what he had done.

"Oh, Harry!" Her hands flew to her mouth again and tears pooled in her eyes. "Oh! Oh, Harry!"

Nodding, tears still flowing, she jumped up, slid onto the sofa, and threw her arms around him. Shocked, Severus held himself stiff, unsure of what to say or do.

That thought had never crossed his mind. In his universe, they thought he was dead. There, they had held a funeral and buried his body. He'd never be able to tell them he'd not died, and Harry would never know the potential of a relationship that had been lost.

Gently prying Ginevra off of him, Severus said, "We were never lovers. I'm sure the Harry I knew is alive and happy now, and that's all that matters. He's probably with the other you at this very moment."

She gave a choked laugh through her tears. "You must be joking. As much as Harry loves the idea of having a family of his own, sooner or later he would've realised that he would never enjoy creating a family the traditional way. Sometimes Harry can be terribly oblivious. I knew he was gay barely a month into dating him." Patting his arm, she stood. "I'll go talk and to him. Thank you for owling me. Don't worry about him, he's strong."

9:02 PM

When Severus heard the knock on the door of his potions lab, Harry flashed through his mind, even though the knock hadn’t been his typical rap. He pulled open the door, quashing the disappointment that made no sense at all since he'd not expected Harry anyway.

Ginevra gave him a small smile. "He’s insisting on working. He works too much. You should go and talk to him."

Turning around, Severus headed back to his worktable. "I think it’s best that I leave him alone for the time being."

Severus scoffed. "He needs the man who looks like his dead lover? He wants to see the living spectre of a future that'll never be?"

She strode into the room, stopping on the other side of the work table. "You love him, don’t you?"

He couldn't say what he felt. He loved the idea of a relationship meant for him—a world where he had what his heart desired. But it wasn't his world. Harry wasn't his lover—he never had been. He had allowed himself to live in a fantasy for a moment, but that was just all it was. "I don’t hate him."

"Right," she huffed. "So you love him. If you were faking—if you were just stringing him along and playing with his affections as some sort of game-"

"All right." She threw up her hands in defeat. "But think about this: maybe the core that makes you who you are, is the same between you and your other self. Maybe only memories died with him, and not the part of you that makes you Severus. You love him because it doesn't matter what universe you are in—you'll always love him."

"We are nothing more than the sum of our memories. My doppelgänger and I share similar lives, but we diverged from each other the moment different experiences took us apart. Yes, we shared a great many similarities, but I have no desire to attempt to be a man I never was. Harry wants the man he loved, not me. He shouldn't be forced to accept a substitute simply for similarity in form."

She sighed. "You claim to be different, but you're just as stubborn as he was." With a swirl that sent her copper mane flying, she marched from the room.

Wednesday, 6 October, 6:13 PM

"Good evening," replied Severus. He poured the ground-up rose quartz into the cauldron, but it didn't matter to him how the potion turned out.

"I'm sorry I said those things to you," said Harry from the doorway. "You didn't deserve it. It isn't your fault you're here. I took my anger out on you, and I shouldn't have. I'm so sorry." After a long pause, he added, "I'm not angry at you."

Wandering into the room, his eyes roaming over the shelves of the potions ingredients, Harry trailed his fingertips along a worktable. Severus let him move, pretending to concentrate on his potions.

After far too long, Harry's voice shattered the oppressive quiet. "Emilie knows a lot about physics, and she said that the type of spell he used requires the cooperation of the other person. It wouldn't have worked unless you'd been willing to come. She said," Harry paused as if gathering his thoughts. "She said that because he set the coordinates so specifically—to ensure he'd find, and draw here, a Severus that closely matched himself, but who died that night in the shack—it's amazing that it worked at all. It shouldn't have worked by the laws of probability. The odds were astronomical."

Severus hadn't quite the grasp of mathematics necessary to calculate out the chances, but he believed it. "He wouldn't have been able to do it without the garden or his increased power."

Harry stared at a jar of wyvern hearts. "How much longer do you think he would've lived if he'd not cast it?"

"Please, stay here," said Harry, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, and meandering over to lean against a workbench, his eyes tired. "He destroyed your home, and spent your money. You shouldn't have to live as a pauper because of mistakes that weren't your own. This is your house. If anyone should leave, I should.

Harry just shook his head. "Besides…. I know it's selfish, but it'll be easier for me to get over-" His breath catching in his throat, he lifted a hand to his mouth and gave a weak cough. "Easier to get over this mess if I see you regularly, rather than infrequently. Please? If you- if we can't be together as lovers, let's at least be friends."

It wouldn't be easier for him. To live with Harry, but forever be apart from him would be hell. He couldn't refuse him though, not when he knew how much he was needed. If he couldn't fix it, then he would have to endure it. "I'll take the room across from yours."

"Fine." Harry rocked on his heels and pursed his lips. "If you want to take your dinner somewhere other than the library, just let Kreacher know. I've told him to regard you as equivalent to me. I'll see you around."

Severus said nothing. The shutting of the door behind Harry echoed softly throughout the room, sealing their separation with a soft click.

Monday, 24 January 2005, 8:15 AM

Harry clutched a liana and gasped for breath. "Bloody hell," he said. "I know I'm in shape. How can you move so damned fast?"

Severus swept over to him. "You cast a Featherlight Charm on your bag after you packed it, right?"

"Yeah, but that was hours ago, and we've been hiking through a sauna since then." Pulling his wand out of his pocket, he waved it at his face to remove the sweat.

"You're soaked." Severus ran his finger down the sweat and humidity-soaked T-shirt arm of Harry's shirt. "Why don't you use drying spells?" The clothing waterproofing spells were not practical in high humidity as they often trapped water between the skin and the clothing.

"You decided to come here in the middle of a monsoon." He flicked his wand at his boots. "Drying spells don't have much of an effect if you get wet again five seconds later."

"Here." Setting down his own bag, Severus Summoned his potions satchel. "I invented a treatment for clothing which retards liquid absorption to prevent potions accidents. You'll still need to whisk away any fluid that leaks between your skin and clothing unless you cast spells to form airtight seals." He paused. The clothing had to be removed in order to be soaked in the potion, as it would stain skin if directly applied. Although Harry occasionally had worn nothing but shorts around him, the potion wouldn't work correctly unless Harry soaked every article of clothing, down to his socks and smalls.

If Harry undressed, it would be the first time he'd see Harry naked since early October.

Severus nodded. "It'll stain your skin otherwise. The more clothing protected, the better it works."

They were in the middle of the Gunung Palung National Park in Borneo, and the nearest humans were Muggle researchers on the other side of the mountain, but Severus set them up anyway. Turning away from Harry, he conjured a large bowl and poured in the potion. As repeated use of cleaning spells reduced the effectiveness of the potion, he had brought more than enough to soak his clothes several times, and had plenty left over for Harry.

"I know you can fix almost anything," said Harry as he walked over, pulling off his shirt. "But aren't the tropics the last place I should be starkers? After what happened in Brazil last month—"

"Don't worry. I set up more than just privacy wards, and besides, Indonesia has far less dangerous flora and fauna compared to other tropical forests. Place all of your clothes in the bowl."

Harry sat down to pull of his boots. "My Severus didn't have a spell like that. Or if he did, he didn't use it in rainforests."

Severus made no comment. At first, the comparisons had bothered him, as they indicated that Harry was constantly measuring him against the other man. However, after months of it, the bite had faded, and he now saw it as similar to when he tested different classes of healing potions, trying to determine the properties of each in order to understand the differences. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the sting of Harry using the expression 'my Severus' had never faded. Try as he might, he couldn't put aside his feelings. He wanted to be Harry's Severus, not the Severus that Harry still seemed to long for.

Harry silently undressed, dropping each article of clothing in the bowl. When he yanked off his boxers, his thick penis hung flaccid between his legs, and he gave Severus a small smile, as if embarassed by its appearance.

Having applied the potion to his own clothes thousands of times, Seveus could prepare and dry garments in seconds, but the sight of Harry naked was such a rare treat, he told himself that, as this was the first time he had soaked Harry's garments, it would not be remiss to let them remain in the bowl longer than usual.

Conjuring a chair, Harry sat, pulled up his legs, wrapping his arms around them. The sounds of gibbons filled the air, and he stared up at the treeline.

"Gibbons?" Harry straightened his back, dropping his feet to the ground. "I saw them at the zoo, but they didn't sound like that."

"It's different in the wild." Severus stood. "Would you like to see them? We'd have to fly up into the canopy."

"Sure!" Jumping off the chair, Harry darted over and threw his arms around Severus's neck.

His heart stopping at the sudden pounce by a naked Harry, Severus couldn't think or speak for a moment. All he could do was feel the heat of Harry's warm body seep through his robes, and smell his intoxicating scent. When he'd proposed the offer, he'd imagined that he would fashion a broom, but flying Harry up himself was a far better idea.

Wrapping his arms around Harry's waist, he buried his nose in Harry's tousled hair, and whispered a Featherlight Charm. Holding Harry tightly against himself, he cast a sticking charm just to be sure he wouldn't drop the other man, and lifted them off the ground, soaring straight to the emergent canopy.

"They're defending their territory," Severus told him, his breath making the dark mop even messier. "They live in monogamous pairs and sing to defend their land from rivals."

His eyes transfixed on the swinging pair, Harry murmured. "They aren't at all like the monkeys we saw yesterday."

Severus had purchased a book on primate evolution to research the non-human Polyjuice Potion line they wished to develop, but as much as he wanted to share his newfound knowledge, he also wanted an excuse to keep Harry in his arms longer. He knew better, but he couldn't resist. Running his fingers up the small of Harry's back, he said, "The lumbar process shortens." Brushing Harry's upper back with featherlight touches along the way, he lifted his hand to Harry's shoulder, and massaged it. "The head of the humerus rounds to allow greater rotation."

His intense eyes fixed on Severus's, Harry lifted his arm. Severus trailed his fingers down the muscular limb. "The arms elongate, and the olecranon process shortens." He brushed his hand over Harry's elbow, letting his palm slide across the skin. Pressing his hand flat against Harry's arm, he stroked down to Harry's hand. "The fingers elongate and the thumb shortens." Harry curled his fingers up, brushing over Severus's palm, chasing after the hand as it trailed away.

Swallowing hard, Severus traced back up Harry's arm, and ran his hand flat across his upper chest, enjoying the contrast between hard bone and soft skin. "The clavicle lengthens, and the chest-" He spread his fingers on Harry's chest. Harry's heart pounded hard against his hand, and his eyes were so vividly green, a light seemed to shine from within them.

His breath catching in his throat, Severus said huskily, "The chest widens and flattens."

"What else?" asked Harry, his voice deep. He placed his free hand over Severus's, his fingers warm.

With a start, Severus realised they were in the understorey and would soon hit the forest floor. Flight by magic required a high level of concentration, and he'd been so wrapped up in Harry, he'd not maintained the height. There was so much more he could say. He could say, 'no tail', and Harry might allow him to brush his fingers along the top of those perfect buttocks. He might even be able to lay Harry out on the ground, and convince him to allow him to demonstrate all the pelvic changes that'd led to bipedalism.

His feet hit the ground and reality intruded. He wasn't Harry's Severus. He refused to be.

Stepping back from Harry, he glanced down at the clothes still steeping in the potion. Pulling out his wand, he evaporated the water, and said, "You should dress now. We'll attempt to collect hairs from them tomorrow."

After a pause, Harry said, "Right." He walked past Severus to his clothing and pulled it on. "Have we finished our list of plants?"

As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, they continued their search. When evening arrived, and it was time to make camp, Severus charmed the tent to float next to a mangrove forest. Inside the small, three-room tent, they ate dinner, reviewed their notes for the day, and prepared for bed. Severus retired to the single bed first, and Harry shortly joined him, both of them wearing pyjamas.

"Nox," cast Harry as he slipped under the covers. They always started the night apart—each man on his own half, but every morning, they somehow found themselves entwined.

Now, Harry scooted to the edge of the invisible line dividing their sections, and stuck one of his legs onto Severus's side, touching Severus's leg. Shifting slightly, Severus let his right arm rest against Harry's.

Severus lay in bed, enjoying the warmth of Harry's body and listening to him sleep. There were so many beliefs and behaviours he'd shed since he realised he was living another man's life, but the one thing he refused to relinquish was his affection for Harry. Once he'd allowed it to happen, his relationship with Harry had been the most natural and important aspect of this universe. Even though he wanted more, just being with Harry was enough to make him happier than he'd ever been in his entire life.

Sunday, 27 March, 4:23 PM

"Of course," murmured Severus, rising from his chair and escorting her to the floor. When the waltz began, he cast Muffliato, and swept her around the floor. "Not a year ago you told me that you wouldn't eat with the Weasleys. I didn't expect to see you here." He wasn't sure which was odder: that the Malfoys attended Ginny and Adam's wedding or that they had been invited in the first place.

She smiled. "My dear Severus, how long have we been friends? I realise you cling to your opinions stubbornly, but there is no reason to assume that I do the same."

She was the epitome of everything that was Slytherin, and he knew she wouldn't have bothered to come unless she saw a future benefit to herself or her family. Perhaps she wanted him to re-negotiate the contract he and Harry had signed with her husband. Raising an eyebrow at her, he said, "There are some opinions on which I will not change, but you cannot claim that I'm not adaptable."

Pretending as if she didn't hear the brush-off, she smiled demurely. "Oh, of course. I did not mean to imply that you've not the potential to evolve. You've always been marvellously skilled at re-inventing yourself. Or, at least, I assume you were. It is hard to know how much of you I know."

"I did expect that answer." She stepped away for a twirl and returned, her body pressing disconcertingly close against his. "Now, you must answer a question I have heard whispered around. Are you dating Harry?"

After six months and nary a peep from her on the issue of Harry, he thought she'd lost her interest. "No."

An eyebrow arched. "You live together, work together, travel together, attend events together-"

"We've separate rooms," he interrupted. Never mind that they shared a bed—albeit chastely—on their regular travels

"My apologies." If she had been anyone else, he would've believed the look of apology on her face. "It's a shame that he can't accept you for who you are."

He twirled her with more force than necessary, knocking a strand of hair astray. Giving him a sharp look of warning, she patted it back in place and re-took his hand.

"My ... you are touchy. I admit you've confused me. A change in his affections is quite understandable and an acknowledgment of that was not intended as an offence. You must realise by now that I quite like Harry-" It was his money she liked. "-and wish him nothing but full health and happiness." And his coffers full of money to enrich her own.

They danced quietly for a few measures before she said, "I suppose...." as a false look of innocence spread across her features. "You must explain it to me, for I simply can't understand why your opinions of him would change, knowing what you now know. Unless you were merely pretending for the sake of convention—which would be entirely understandable—then I would expect you to remain constant in affections."

"He loved him. Harry does not give his heart lightly. To accept another man—even a similar one—so soon after the death of his lover would be an insult to his memory."

"Yes," she drawled. "I suppose mourning for at least twenty years would be preferred."

He snorted. "And I suppose worry for the life of your son has been your only concern."

"You know me too well, Severus." Her gaze drifted over his shoulder. He'd thought he'd caught a glimpse of her watching another couple on the dance floor earlier, but her gaze lingered longer than usual.

Spinning her around to see the object of her attention, his eye caught on Harry dancing with Ginny. Dressed in a gown that probably cost more than what her father made in a year, her hair and makeup attended to by the best the wizarding world had to offer, Ginny was the object of everyone's attention—everyone but Severus, who only had eyes for her best man.

Dressed in elegant, form-fitting dress robes of black and cerulean, Harry spun Ginny around with a grace he'd not had at fourteen, and the two of them fulfilled the ideal of the perfect couple: beautiful, young, and passionate.

Shifting closer, standing on tip-toe to reach his ear, Narcissa whispered, "He's been watching you."

Focusing his eyes on Narcissa so that he wouldn't be caught staring at Harry, he scoffed, "You're imagining things."

"I'm not," she declared, lifting her chin. "That you've managed to keep your eyes off Harry and on me is surprising. I saw you during the ceremony."

He was saved a retort by the end of the song. Guiding her to the edge of the dance floor, he said, "In a Weasley wedding, your husband could use company."

Ginny and Harry exited the dance floor on Severus's other side. The two women glanced at each other, then walked off in opposite directions.

Scooting closer, Harry placed an arm upon Severus's and leant forward. Bending down his head to hear what Harry had to say, Severus breathed in the scent of him. He didn't wear his special cologne anymore, even on fancy occasions, but Severus didn't mind. He loved Harry's scent just as it was.

"I can't believe the Malfoys are here," whispered Harry. "Do you think they were invited by accident and decided to show up out of spite?"

"Don't be a fool, Harry," Severus whispered back. "The witches are plotting together."

Far too obviously, Harry shot glances at both Ginny and Narcissa. "But they've not gone within ten feet of each other once."

"Yes." Harry lifted his hand off Severus's arm. "But she often does." He frowned, watching her move across the dance floor.

It looked as though he were about to walk off after her, so Severus asked, "Care to dance?"

Severus took his hand and led him out onto the dance floor. Placing a hand on each other's waist, they clasped their other hands, and each took the lead, sending them straight into each other.

Nodding, Severus led the next few steps. Harry started as gracefully as with Ginny, but soon stumbled over his feet, stepping on Severus's toes as he kept trying to lead.

"We'll switch," offered Severus. He had never followed either, but it wasn't difficult to pick up, and soon they waltzed around the dance floor as if they had always danced together. Later, when it was just the two of them, he'd teach Harry how to follow.

Harry's exquisite eyes stared at Severus with an odd curiosity. "Do you like to dance?"

A smile quirked the corner of Harry's mouth. "The other Severus hated dancing. He refused to do it, even with me."

Harry'd been saying 'the other Severus' and 'the past Severus' for the last month. It gave Severus hope, but he looked forward to the day when the other Severus was mentioned no more than this universe's Charlie. "Do you enjoy dancing?"

"I love it." Harry grinned. "I don't care if I'm rubbish at it." His smile faded and he said, "I appreciate all that you've done for me these past months. When you told me the truth, I spent the first month waking up each morning, both hoping and fearing you'd left me. At the time, I couldn't decide which would be worse, but now I'm glad you stayed." His eyes flickered over Severus's face. "I don't want you to feel forced to remain in my company based upon a sense of duty. You don't owe anything to me—or him."

"My feelings towards you have never been forced by circumstance or belief in what I should experience. If this life I have now were not what I desired, I would focus my attentions on seeking what I lacked." Severus shook his head. "I've never felt responsible for any of his actions, and regard for him has never crossed my mind, except where you are concerned. I also have no intention of replacing him."

Shaking his head, Harry said, "I know you can't. Just like you can't replace Charlie, and I can't replace anyone you've lost. If any part of you wishes for my mum, it won't work between us. I want a relationship that's only between the two of us. No ghosts, no one else."

Severus's heart leapt to his throat, and he squeezed Harry's hand as he said, "You've nothing to fear there. Besides, I have no desire to be associated with the other Severus. I despise him."

Holding Harry tighter, Severus said, "He abandoned you. He cared more about spell craft than about you. I can't forgive him for that."

Harry's eyes drifted to Severus's cravat. "I know he didn't mean to destroy himself. I know he wouldn't have picked power over me. I thought about all the things that could've gone wrong. Maybe the text itself could've been damaged maliciously before Endell, or perhaps Endell sabotaged it. Maybe the spell worked perfectly, and neither of them realised how great the price would be. Maybe there was something wrong with him, or me, and he needed more power to try to fix it. I don't know. It's frustrating—not knowing exactly what happened, or why he did it."

Harry shook his head, his lips pressed tight. "I suppose...in the end, it doesn't matter. He tried the spell in the experimentation room because he knew it was dangerous. Even if he didn't mean to—even if it was set up to kill him—he still had the choice to cast the spell and, for whatever reason, he made that choice."

Swallowing hard, Harry said, "He did leave me. And he was too proud to admit that it was his fault. He set up a system to frustrate me, and keep me from realising what he'd actually done because he knew it would hurt me. He decided what was best for me on his own. Even if he did it to save me, he still should've given me the option of choosing a different way. He still should've told me what he planned to do. Most of all, he shouldn't have just dumped you into a confusing world where I'd push you into a relationship you may have never had, or wanted, in the first place!"

Severus said nothing, letting Harry speak. It was very likely that he would've never tried for such a relationship if he had remained in his old world, especially if that Harry were straight. However, even with people badgering him about their relationship, he'd never felt forced to be with Harry. It had been what he wanted—long before he'd realised it.

Harry raised his bright eyes to meet Severus's. "But I've forgiven him for that. He worked hard to bring you here, and even though it's been difficult on both of us, I'm glad to have you. As selfish as it is, I'm glad you left that universe and life for mine. Not that I don't miss him- I mean-" He paused, biting his lip. "I don't think I'll ever completely stop loving him. I think- I think I'll always miss him, just like I'll always have a part of me that misses and loves Charlie, Dumbledore, and so many other people who died.

"I know you're upset because he hurt me, but I'm glad to have had my time with him. I know he loved me." Harry gave Severus a small smile. "But at the same time, I love having you here. You're like him in some ways, but amazingly different in so many others. It'll take some time for me to adjust to your differences, but I love discovering who you are."

He lifted the hand from Severus's waist, and tangled it in Severus's hair. With a sly smile, he said, "Not to mention I love how often you wear your hair in a ponytail. And how you style it...." He lost himself for a moment, running his fingers through Severus's hair. When he caught himself, he shook his head and added, "I may sound completely mad, but even though you two have the exact same face, you somehow manage to look so different."

Part of the reason Severus had grown his hair a few inches down past his shoulders was to distinguish himself from the other man. As he couldn't stand hair in his face when brewing, he'd pulled it back in the lab, only to notice the effect it had on Harry. After that, he wore it in a neat pony tail whenever he wished to impress Harry. Lucius, who often wore his hair in a similar fashion, had called him vain, but Lucius had never seen the look in Harry's eyes when Severus strode into a room with well-groomed hair and elegant dress robes. It was enough to drive him to buy a mirror for his side of the vanity.

Those beautiful eyes now looked ready to devour him whole. Harry wanted him. Harry wanted him.

Pulling Harry tightly against him, Severus whispered, "I don't think Ginny will mind if we leave early."

In an empty hallway, Harry pushed Severus up against a wall and kissed him. Harry was hard beneath his robes, and he poured his desire into a kiss that left both of their hearts racing.

Clutching Severus tightly to him, Harry said, "You do realise I'm never letting you go."

Epilogue

Monday, 13 October 2008, 12:26 PM

"Just breathe," Severus told her as calmly as he could. Perhaps a bone removal spell would ease the pain of his left hand, but he suspected that if he dared to cast any spells around her, she'd try to bite off his head.

"Fuck you, Harry!" spat Ginny. "This is your fault too! I was crazy to do this! You better like your child, because it's the last you'll ever get!"

"Come on, darling," said Adam soothingly from the other side of the bed. He wasn't having his hand crushed. "Push and it will soon be over."

Letting out a stream of curses that would have made her brothers blush, Ginny squeezed Severus's hand so hard he thought he felt bones snap, and pushed. Over and over again she pushed until a sharp cry tore the air and Healer Kessler lifted a squalling mess of blood, water, and flesh. Severus tried to pull away, to cut the cord as they'd rehearsed, but Ginny still gripped him tightly, and Harry, sensing Severus wouldn't be able to extract himself soon, hurried over to Kessler to help.

As Healer Kessler cast a battery of cleaning and examination spells, Severus pried his hand out of Ginny's grasp, flexing his fingers. After Kessler finished her exams, she settled the infant on Ginny's chest, but the baby only screamed and kicked his tiny limbs, refusing to nurse. Instinctively, Severus reached down and gathered him in his arms.

His little wrinkled, red face smoothed out and his eyes opened in small slits, revealing deep blue eyes. His tuft of black hair stood straight up from his head as if he had been struck by an electrocution spell.

Harry pressed against his side. Wrapping one arm around Severus and offering a finger for the baby to clasp, he said, "He loves your voice."

"It doesn't matter," Severus assured him, gazing down at the new life cradled in his arms. He didn't care if the boy turned out to be ginger with bright blue eyes. This was his son. He'd collected the semen from Harry (a most enjoyable task), implanted it in Ginny, and monitored her throughout the pregnancy with home-brewed potions. He'd spent hours training, studying, preparing for this moment—for this beautiful life. His first-born son.

"I want to." It was trite, and not his first choice, but he'd suspected it was what Harry wanted, and he wanted it because Harry did. Besides, Harry's middle name was James, and if the son was anything like the father, it would be impossible not to love him.

Although Severus appreciated the offering, he had to say, "I've never liked that name."

Severus cocked an eyebrow at him. "James Severus it is, then. Would you like to hold your son?"

Harry's arms shot up, ready to accept him. Slowly, with more caution than he had ever held the most dangerous potions ingredient, Severus transferred James to Harry's arms, casting a warming spell on the still naked baby as they passed him through the air. With James nuzzled in his arms, Harry's smile widened so far, it seemed he would split his face in half. "Our baby. Can you believe it?" His eyes glowed as he grinned up at Severus.

Harry's smile was infectious. They were both beautiful. Severus kissed Harry, rubbing his son's shock of feather-soft hair.

"Excuse me, Severus," said Healer Kessler. "I'd like to go over the instructions with you before I leave."

"Of course." Severus stepped away from Harry and James to receive the scrolls she had prepared. As much as he wanted to focus on his husband and newborn son, he had taken classes to become the primary caregiver for James and Ginny, and his attention was required if he were to take that role seriously. With more concentration than he had ever given any lesson before, he absorbed every word she said.

When she left, Adam stepped over to Severus. "Babies are normally born with different coloured eyes. You won't know the true colouring for another few months."

Severus gazed at Harry propped up against pillows on the bed beside Ginny, the two of them enveloped around the sleeping James. "I'm sure they'll be fine

"Don't worry about her acting as if she won't ever do this again," Adam said with a fond look at Ginny. "My father told me that my mother said the same sort of things when she gave birth to me, but she had six more girls after that."

A knock on the door reminded them of the throng waiting outside, and Ginny sighed and said, "I suppose we better let them in."

With a flick of his wand, Severus opened the door and a procession of family and friends spilt into the room: Molly and Arthur, Ron and Hermione with Hugo and Rose, the rest of the Weasley sons with their families, Luna and Rolf, Remus, and Minerva, carrying a portrait of Dumbledore.

Over the heads of the visitors Severus caught Harry's eyes. The only other time his husband had glowed so much had been on their wedding day. He swept over to sit on the bed, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulder.

His one arm holding James against his body, Harry clutched one of Severus's hands and placed it over his chest. "I've never been so happy in my life. I feel like my heart'll explode."

Severus knew exactly how he felt. Bending down, he brushed the unruly black hair from Harry's face and whispered in his ear, "I love you. Both of you." One hand on Harry's shoulder, the other resting on his son, he gazed around the bustling, life and laughter-filled room with blurry eyes.

End Notes:

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