The Paradox of Existence

by DragonLight

Re-Posted: 12-21-2005
Rating: Explicit Sex
Genre: Drama/Romance
Summary: On Assignment for Dumbledore, in the past, Harry sees his lover from a new perspective, that of a professor.
Pairing: HP/SS
Beta: Heartfelt thanks and the deepest gratitude to Isis who worked with me for literally years on this. So no blaming her if you've found mistakes, understand! :D Thanks to Juice who was there for a grammar check whenever I needed it.
Acknowledgements: My thanks to Gaycrow, who is the biggest fan of this story and always gave me a reason to work on it. And to Sparrowhawk who never failed to give me a swift kick in the ass whenever I said I didn't want to do this anymore.

Chapter One:  Backwards and Forwards

Harry didn’t know how he had let Albus talk him into this.  He didn't want to be here.  Looking over at the assembled students in front of him, he watched as they shifted nervously in their seats and avoided his gaze.  The effect he had on these students --ones that had no preconceived notions about what he was like -- cheered him.  Severus would be proud.

He pushed away from the wall in the corner of the room, where he had been waiting for his class to enter and take their seats.  Walking past the window, he noticed quite a few students glance away, or open their mouths in silent gasps as the light caught on the hilt of the dagger he kept strapped to his thigh.  He leaned against his desk and took out his wand, casually rolling it between his fingers before facing the class.  

He wondered if any of them saw some sort of similarity between their classmate, James Potter, and himself.  It was doubtful; after all, he had grown his hair out long over the years and had acquired other scars -- besides the one on his forehead -- that distracted from his features.  But probably the largest change in his appearance had been when he got rid of his glasses.  He shouldn't worry about it too much; people saw what they wanted to see, and, if he was to believe his godfather, he was no longer a carbon copy of his father and instead was a blend between both of his parents.

Forcing himself to relax, he turned to pick up the class roster and begin.  

“I am Octavian Tyler, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Harry paused and glanced around the room again.  “You are the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins, correct?”  The silence of the class indicated that no confirmation would be forthcoming, and he glanced at the roster.  “Am I correct, Mr. Black, or is your conversation with Mr. Potter too important to answer me?”  He had been curious about his father and godfather -- had, in fact, been looking forward to seeing them while they were still students -- but they had not been present the night before at the opening feast.  He had overheard McGonagall talking to Flickwick about a flying motorcycle and arriving late and... Pushing the thought away, he focused his attention on young Sirius.  The memory had hit too close to home, making him remember his own time at Hogwarts, and he was homesick enough without actively thinking about it.

“No, sir.  I mean yes, sir.  Wait, I mean no, sir.”  All the Slytherins and a good portion of the Gryffindors snickered.

Harry signalled for quiet.  “Well, which is it, yes or no?”

Sirius glanced over at Remus, who looked away.  “What was the question again?”

A choked laugh from the other side of the room caught his attention.  “Mr. Snape, pray tell, what is so amusing?”

“Nothing, sir.”  Followed by a smirk directed at Sirius.

“Well, now that that’s settled.  Let’s move on to the seating arrangements.”

A simultaneous groan from the class greeted that announcement.

“I’m glad to know that you all approve.  All right, everyone grab your things and move to the side of the classroom.  Mr Black, why don’t you take the centre seat in the front row?  Mr. Snape, the seat to the right of him.”  He continued placing Gryffindor and then Slytherin, until the entirety of the class was arranged into a Gryffindor-Slytherin checkerboard.  Over the years, he had found this arrangement the easiest means with which to maintain control.

“I’ve heard stories about this class from the other professors.  I warn you that I will not stand for any misbehaving.  While in this class, you will listen.  The things I teach you may very well one day save your lives.  There will be no pranks.” Harry turned a glare on the four Marauders. “No snide comments.” His glare moved to Snape. “And I expect full class participation.  Homework is assigned for a reason.  There will be no pointless essays.  I did too many of them during my school years, and I will not make you repeat those useless endeavours.”  He gazed around the room.  “The last thing that you should know is that I will in no way tolerate House prejudice.  If I hear of it, a suitable punishment will follow.  Follow these rules and we will get along just fine.

“The next order of business will be a short review.”  Harry turned toward the blackboard and started to write some terms down.  “Who can tell me about boggarts?”  Without looking, he called on a student, “Mr. Lupin, will you please enlighten the class.”

“He’s positively evil.  I mean, sitting me next to Snape." Sirius stabbed at his roast with his fork.

“Well perhaps if you weren’t talking during the first five minutes of his class, he wouldn’t have, Sirius.”  

“Oh be quiet, Remus.”  

“What I don’t get is why everyone is walking around on eggshells around him.”  James directed the statement at Peter and Remus.

“You... you mean that you have… haven’t heard?”

“Heard what, Peter?”  

A sharp, female voice from across the table answered.  “Last night, at the welcoming feast, Lucius tripped a first year Hufflepuff on his way to sit after he had been sorted.  When he finally got up and started to his seat, Lucius tripped him again.  Next thing anyone knew, there was a dagger embedded in the table a centimetre from Lucius's hand, and Professor Tyler was standing over him.  It was the angriest I'd ever seen a professor, which can't be a good sign for his temperament since it was a relatively minor discretion.  He got detention every weekend for a month.”  Lily narrowed her eyes.  “Of course, if you hadn’t been joyriding you’d have known."

James and Sirius looked up at the Head Table.  Professor Tyler was sitting next to Dumbledore, laughing at some joke the old wizard must have told him.

“Are you sure, Evans?”  

“Absolutely.  Aren’t I right, Remus?”  

They looked at Remus who nodded his head as he chewed, then at the Slytherin table where the seventh year Lucius was talking to Snape, and finally to the Head table, where Professor Tyler gave them a knowing look.

James quickly averted his eyes and turned back to his plate.  “Bloody hell.”

“My thoughts exactly,” muttered Sirius.

Harry looked at the Gryffindor table.  His father and Sirius must have heard about the Sorting feast, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.  He couldn't contain the small thread of pleasure that coursed through him at the thought.  He knew all their tricks and wasn't about to let them get away with any of them.  After all, he had to amuse himself somehow.

“So, Octavian, why don’t you tell me a little more about your home?”

Harry tore his gaze from the group at the Gryffindor table.  “I've already told you everything that I can, Albus.  I'm sure that the headmaster at my previous post told you everything else you needed to know in his letter."  He smiled.   "So stop being a nosy old headmaster.”  

"What about that scar?"  

Harry’s fingers immediately sought out the scar on his forehead.  

“No not that one, the other one.”  Albus pointed to a scar that started on his right cheek and disappeared under the collar of his shirt.

“A war injury.  Not a particularly fond memory.  I had to wrestle the knife out of my opponent’s hand.  It wasn’t even that deep, and shouldn’t have left a scar, but it was just my luck that the knife had a rather nasty curse that kept the cut from being healed properly.”

“Well, I think it makes you look like quite the rogue."  Albus leaned closer and lowered his voice.  "Must be quite helpful with the ladies."  He lifted one bushy eyebrow multiple times in quick succession.

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice, eyes wide.  “Actually, it isn't.  Nor would I want it to.”  

For a moment, Albus just looked at him, and then a small smile found its way onto his face and his eyes glittered mischievously.  “So I need not warn the female members of staff then.  Just the men.”  Albus paused.  "Do try to control yourself around me, Octavian."

Harry dropped his goblet, its contents spilling across the table.  Most of the staff looked at him curiously as he muttered under his breath about annoying headmasters and bad jokes.  Albus laughed as he stood to leave the Great Hall.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry fidgeted with a loose string on the cuff of his shirt.  Albus had left him alone in the office twenty minutes earlier to take care of a 'situation'.  Belatedly, it occurred to him that Albus was probably watching him somehow, looking for signs that he wasn't what he said he was.  Since that was exactly the case, Harry had no intention of giving the Headmaster more of a reason to look into things.

Harry pulled out his dagger and cut the string off from the cuff, wrapping it around his finger and watching as the circulation cut off, turning his finger red, before releasing it.  He must have repeated that motion ten times before Albus opened the door and returned to their "meeting".

"Did I pass, Headmaster?"

Narrowed wary blue eyes met his.  "I don't know what you mean, my boy."

"Of course.  I believe we were talking about the real reason I'm here."

Albus nodded.  "The scroll.  My brother's letter said that you are a Parselmouth, a rare trait indeed."

"I find it useful on occasion."

"Can you read it?"

Harry shrugged.  "Never tried.  In fact, I've never seen the language written down."

Pulling a roll of parchment from within his sleeve, Albus held it out to Harry.  "A random selection of what we assume to be paragraphs.  Can you make anything out?  Copied by hand instead of magic, if that makes a difference."

Harry unrolled it and stared at the snake-like symbols curving across the page.

"Can I have a quill?"

Albus nodded and passed one over, a thoughtful look etched on his face.  

Turning the parchment over in his hands, Harry drew a snake in the top corner.  Visual cues always helped him focus.  "The grass is green, and life is short."  It seemed serpentine enough.  The sounds slipped off his tongue and while he was still thinking of them -- and his thoughts were still focused on snakes -- he started writing what he hoped was the same sentence.

Looking down, he saw shaky symbols that vaguely resembled those on the other side.  He flipped the paper from one side to the other trying to identify anything that looked similar.  After a minute he thought he recognized 'the', but he might have been mistaken.  The many facets of language had never been one of his strong points.  In the past he had always relied on Severus or the Headmaster for obscure translations; it was odd to find their positions reversed.

The Albus in his time hadn't mentioned that this wouldn't be easy, but what else had he expected?

Staring at what he assumed was 'the', he tried to force the part of his brain that knew Parseltongue to the forefront.  

"The we... I think this says 'the week'.  I'd need more time."  Sighing, Harry set the parchment down on his knees and looked up at Albus.  His face was a polite mask.  One that Harry had seen plenty of times directed at strangers.

Albus nodded.  "I expected as much.  It would have been nice if you could just look and start reading, but I suppose that would have been too much to ask.  I will bring this up to my colleagues and see what they want to do.  I'll get back to you over the next few days, Octavian."

Harry nodded.  Standing, he made his way to the door.  Hopefully he had given a decent performance of a neutral party out only for a profit, and, if he was lucky, the Order in this time would take him into their confidence and give him the access he needed.  This was one mission that he definitely didn't want to fail.

* Future*

“Remember, you can’t change anything.  No warning your parents, or Sirius, or Severus.  You are there to work with the past Order and to teach.  I believe we already went over the parameters of what you can tell the past me.  Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry watched as the headmaster walked over to where his phoenix, Fawkes, was perched.  "Yes, Albus.  We went over it quite a few times.”  

“You’re going because the Order needs someone who can translate Parseltongue, and I remember a Mr. Tyler -- who looked just like you -- who could do exactly that.”

“I know, Albus.”  His eyes followed the Headmaster to the window.

“Either Sirius or Severus will check up on you once a month.  They will make sure that you have everything you need.”

“All right, Albus.”  

Once again, Albus paced over to the phoenix’s perch.  “Remember, you cannot directly oppose the Dark Lord.  Stay away from him at all costs.  And don’t forget to give the impression of neutrality to everyone except the Order.  You will agree to keep their secrets.  You have no side in the war of the past, at least to the outside world.”

“Yes, Albus.”

Nine steps back to the window.  “That means you can’t take sides, Harry.  You can’t favour one House over another.”

“Like I do that now.”  

Albus paused halfway from Fawkes to look at the 25 year-old man sitting calmly in one of the plush chairs by the fire watching him pace.  “True, after your sixth year you didn’t tolerate House prejudices.  Not even from members of your own House.”  Albus paced the rest of the way to the perch.

“Severus said I had a paradigm shift when Draco blocked that curse from hitting me in the back.  Personally, I like smaller words, and prefer saying ‘I saw the error of my ways.’”  Harry sighed.  “Albus, you don't need to worry.  I know that things happen for a reason.  And even though many horrible things are happening now, I know that it could most likely be worse if I change things.  Besides, even with the loss and pain, I am happy with my life.  I don’t want it to change.”

Albus nodded.

“Is that all?”  

Albus started to nod, but then stopped and shook his head.  Sighing, Harry sank back into the soft chair.

“Just one more thing.”  

Harry raised his eyebrow, imitating Severus.  

“No propositioning the students.”

Harry laughed.  “What about the reverse?  What about if a student propositions me?”

“Harry!”

“All right, I got it.  Students are off limits.”

Harry stood and made his way to the door.  As he was reaching for the handle, the Headmaster once again called him.  “Harry, relax and enjoy yourself.  See the people you hold dear before the war changed them.  It’s almost a vacation.”  

“Yes, Albus.”  Harry was out the door, down the stairs and on the other side of the gargoyle before the realization finally dawned on him:  he would have to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts again.  He had thought that he had finally got out of that position two years ago.  With a sigh, Harry continued to move down the hallway to the Muggle Studies classroom where his students were waiting for their tardy professor.

That evening, Harry walked into the potions classroom, where Severus was privately tutoring two students.  Harry's eyes followed the movements of the long, graceful fingers as they hovered over each ingredient, as Severus explained their purpose to the young lady that sat across from him. When Harry had been a student at Hogwarts, Severus wouldn't have even considered giving anyone private tuition in the subject. Things had changed. Harry had learned what these students were just beginning to understand; Professor Snape was really a better teacher one-on-one.  

Harry waited for a pause in the lesson before quietly clearing his throat.  The seventh year Ravenclaw that had been taken under Sev's wing, so to speak, and was receiving advanced tuition in Potions, looked up.  “Hello, Professor Potter.”

“Good evening, Mr. Eytinge.  I hope I wasn’t interrupting your experiment?”

“No, sir.  I was just letting it cool before I bottle it.”

“Ah. Important step, that.  I don’t recall how many vials and beakers I cracked because I didn’t let my potions cool properly.”

“139 beakers and 257 vials.  And that encompasses all 7 years of your education.”  The pronouncement was made by a warm baritone from the other workbench.  The second year who was being tutored giggled at the look of righteous indignation that crossed Harry's face.  “That will be all for today, Ms. Ackers.  Clean out your cauldron and be on your way.  I expect you to be able to brew today’s potion flawlessly for the practical next week.”

“Yes, Professor Snape.  Thank you.”  The girl set to work.

“I couldn’t have possibly destroyed that many.  You’re making it up.”

A raised eyebrow was his only response.

“No, that is impossible, Professor Snape.  I most likely only destroyed fifty, at most.”

“Would you like me to go and retrieve my records, Potter?”

“That's quite all right.  You're probably correct.  Funny, it doesn’t seem that many.”

“Of course I’m right, Potter.”

“Oh yes, I keep forgetting, you are always right.”

“Well it is about time that you acknowledged the fact.”  The seventh year who had been biting his lip, started to laugh.  “Is something the matter, Mr Eytinge?”  

“No, Professor.”  The young man started to bottle the still slightly steaming potion.  He was on the third vial when the first one cracked.

“Like I said, a very important step.”  Harry leaned against one of the workbenches while Eytinge turned crimson, Ackers giggled and Snape glared.

“Mr. Eytinge, I will finish bottling the potion.  I’m sure that Professor Potter wouldn’t mind assisting.  His tally can’t get much worse, after all.  And, Ms. Ackers, I believe you have been dismissed.”  The two students knew a command to get out when they heard one.  

Harry moved over to where Severus was wiping away the remains of the spilled potion from the cracked vial.  He took the cloth out of Severus's hands to rinse it out in one of the sinks.

“I hold you responsible.”

“For the cracked vials, I didn’t expect anything less.  Is that two or three more to be added to my tally?”

“Two.”

“Ah.  How were your classes today?”

“I’m getting too old for this.”

Harry lifted his eyebrow on his way back to the workbench to start bottling the now cool potion.  “Old?  Sev, you aren’t old.  Albus is old.”

“Albus will outlive us all.”

“Of that I have no doubt, but he is old.  You are a child compared to him.”

“And you are an infant.”

“Severus.”  That one word held all the necessary disapproval that Harry needed to convey.  There was no way that he wanted to get into another argument about the difference in their ages.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“So how was your day?”

“I had a meeting with Albus after lunch.  It ran over.  Again.  When I returned to my classroom it was a disaster area.  I promised the troublemakers detention with you; they calmed down quick enough.  I can’t supervise their detentions, after all.  I leave tomorrow.”  Harry whispered the last three words, and he wasn't sure that Severus had heard them at all until a vial fell from his fingers and hit the workbench, shattering.

Harry immediately started to clean the broken glass and the spilled potion.  “At this rate, Mr. Eytinge won’t have any potion left.”  He noted that Severus's knuckles had gone white where he was gripping the edge of the table, his eyes fixed to a point on the far wall.  "Shall I add another to my tally?"  Harry paused.  "Severus?”  No answer.  "Sev?"  Harry went to stand behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist and laid his head against Severus’s shoulder.  Feeling Severus's muscles tense, he backed away.

“Tomorrow?”

“Severus, you’ve known for a month.  Well, almost a month.  You were there for most of the prep meetings.  You'll see me in three to four weeks.  Not even that long.  You’ll even be checking up on me, so we'll see each other before the end of a month.  We have it all worked out.  As far as you're concerned, I'll only be gone a month.  I'm the one who has to travel to the past for a year.  If anyone should have separation anxiety, it's me.”

“I see that your vocabulary is appropriately expanding.  And I do not, in any way, have 'separation anxiety'.  In fact, I'm quite pleased that I will not have to deal with your incessant infantile behaviour.”

“Well, I see that you’re in a better mood.  Don’t worry; you’ll still have Sirius and Remus to talk to.”  Severus glared at him.  “I thought we could go to dinner at the Three Broomsticks tonight.  Just the two of us.  No ‘mangy canines’ keeping us company.  You can tell me all about what I’m supposed to do in the past.”

“Harry, you know I can’t.”  Severus's voice was clipped and exasperated.  It occurred to him that Severus must be tired of having that same conversation with him.

“I know."  Harry grabbed Severus's arm right above the elbow and started to pull him toward the door.  "Come on, let’s go.  Besides, this'll be the last time we'll spend any time together for a month.”

Severus snatched his arm away and fell into step next to Harry.

Chapter Two:  The Dragon Incident

*The Past *

Harry was going to have words with his godfather when he got back to his own time.  He didn't know what he had expected, but this wasn't it.  The essay that he had just read was copied verbatim from “Excessive Arguments on Ways to Classify Various Species of Dragons, Their Fire and Their Blood” by Hugh Newtit.  Harry had become very familiar with the volume when he had worked with Charlie Weasley in Romania after he'd finished at Hogwarts.  The book was old -- although thinking about it, it had probably been published within the last few years from this time -- but it did cover all the different systems one might come across when dealing with a colony of dragon experts.  Harry regretfully marked a T on the paper and wrote a note under it.  “If you need to ask why, look in the library under Hugh Newtit and his book on dragon classification.  See me after class.”

“Bet you love having your old job back.  I know how much you missed teaching Defence.”  Harry looked up at the sound of the rough voice.

“Sirius, speak of the devil!”  Harry set his mouth into a thin line and drummed his fingers against the top of his desk.

“I’m starting to think that you spend too much time with Snape.”

“Really?  I’m much more curious about how you passed your Auror qualification exam.”

Sirius sauntered into the room and locked the door behind him.  Perching himself on one of the desks, he cast a silencing spell over the room before turning to Harry.  “Why would you be wondering that?”

Harry made a show of clearing his throat before reading aloud from the paper he had just graded.  “'Dragon classification is one of the most fascinating topics that can be touched upon by an intelligent mind.  There are many unknown facets that have yet to be discovered about dragon physiology and anatomy; however, such means are not the only way to classify these magical miracles…'  Should I even bother continuing?”

Sirius had the graciousness to flush.  “I remember getting that paper back. I--“  Sirius stopped when he saw the glare.  “I forgot.  You can’t know what’s going to happen in the past anymore than you can tell about the future.  It could sway your reactions.  So are you having trouble separating our older selves from our younger selves?”

“Not particularly.  You’ve all changed so much.  You, Remus, Severus, even Malfoy Sr., all of you seem so much more carefree.  Especially the Marauders; it’s as if none of you have a care in the world.  Well, except James.  He's still trying to find a way to convince Lily to sneak out without alerting his deranged Defence professor to his plans.  You know, I'm still trying to figure out how my parents got together.”

Sirius blanched.   “You heard that?”    

“Yes. I also heard that I’m a spy for Voldemort, I’m a spawn of the devil, I’m a day-walking vampire, that I’m ‘positively evil’, and that I’m a pissed off werewolf.  I’ll excuse the last since you were arguing with Remus that week.  You really didn’t like me in school, did you?  It seems as far as you and your friends went, I was this year's Professor Snape.”

“It’s your own fault.  You sat me next to that greasy Slytherin git.”

“That's right, how could I forget your disastrous tryst in fifth year?  Though I have to admit, certain other incidents did cinch your contempt for each other.”

“How did you find out about fifth year?  I know that neither I nor Remus told you about it.”

“Severus.”

Sirius scrunched his face into a disgusted grimace.  “Enough about greasy Slytherins and stupid students.  Albus wanted me to check on how the translation was going.”

“As well as can be expected, since I've never seen written Parseltongue before.  It’s a disturbing sight.  I haven't made any real progress because I have only had access to the scroll a handful of times since I got here."  Harry shook his head.  "It's as if I'm on probation with the Order, like they're feeling me out.  I know that they doubt my loyalties, they're supposed to, though this Albus did assure me that they would eventually stop and give me full access.  If I had to estimate the amount I've finished, I'd say about two lines.”

“Just two lines?  And why are they supposed to doubt you?”

“I have to teach myself a whole new written language, Sirius.  Just because I can speak it doesn’t mean I can automatically read it.  It's going to take some time.  The knowledge is there, it's just locked away.  At times...”  Harry shifted the papers on his desk.  "I don't trust myself, Sirius.  Do you think that you'd be able to keep from changing things if you were faced with the choice every day?  As long as the Order keeps me out, then I don't have to face that choice.  I'm here for one reason, and that is to translate a scroll."

Harry could feel Sirius's eyes on him, but didn't look up.  He didn't want to see pity or sadness or any other negative emotion at the moment.  He'd known what he was getting into when he'd accepted the assignment and he would do what he had to do to complete it.

"Before I forget, Hermione sent this.”  Stuffing his hand into one of his pockets, Sirius pulled out a small box. Casting a re-enlargement charm on it, he held it out to Harry.  “She called it a care package.  Said something about giving you a little piece of home.”  

He smiled as he viewed the contents of the box.  Biscuits and pastries and even a few of Molly's homemade meat pies.  And, knowing Hermione, they'd all have a keep-fresh charm on them.  “Tell her I love it.  That it's just what I need after reading these horrid essays.”

Sirius flinched, but nodded and pulled a set of five vials out of another pocket.  “Snape didn’t know how you’d be sleeping, said something about nightmares.  Granted, I didn’t listen very closely since it involved thinking about you and Snape in bed together and I avoid all such thoughts.  Anyway, he said to give you these and that you would know appropriate doses.  Remus said to tell you that he thinks Snape misses you.  Says he’s been an absolute grump the last couple of days.  Personally, I don’t see a difference.  Of course, Remus says it’s because I don’t want to, and that I’m as dense as ever.”

Harry chuckled.  “Did Ron come back from Austria yet?  I know his mum and Hermione had been worrying about him.”

“No, the Ministry still has him there.  Hermione says that he’s all right.  Oh, and the teachers send their regards.  Of course, most don’t know where you are, but they all miss you.”  Sirius smirked and dropped a small bag onto Harry's desk.  “Here’s your allowance, young man, don't spend it all in one place."  He chuckled.  

Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Albus said that your pay packet here should be supplemented, in case you needed to cover any unexpected expenses.  You've no access to Gringott's or any other wizarding financial institution, after all.  No savings to draw on."  Sirius shrugged.  "I don't question the old man, just do as I'm told."

"When it suits you to do so."

Sirius grinned.  "I think that’s it.  I’m supposed to be getting back.”

Harry stood and moved around his desk so that he could say goodbye.  “Are you sure you can’t stay for supper?  It's not like Albus would know.”

“Sorry, this is the testing visit.  Albus said to keep it short, and he will know.  He always does.  Don't ask me how, I don't know.  Don’t worry.  You’ll see me again in two months.  I believe Severus has demanded the next visit, and I'm sure it's for some perverted reason."

Harry shook his head.

"Take care, Harry."

“I will.”  Harry watched as Sirius withdrew the time turner from his robes, and with his wand tapped it while reciting the reversal spell -- the only way to go back to the time you left without having to live through all the time separating the two.

Harry stared for a minute at the space that his godfather had occupied, before grabbing a biscuit out of the box and returning to grading papers.  Sighing, he read the first few lines of his father's essay.  “Dragon classification is one of the most fascinating topics that can be touched upon by an intelligent mind.  There are many unknown facets that have yet to be discovered about dragon physiology and anatomy; however, such means are not the only way to classify these magical miracles…”  

And Harry had always thought that the Marauders had been creative.

“Quite a few of you disappointed me with your lack of essay writing skills.”  Harry watched as the young Sirius Black’s eyes flicked over to James Potter.  “Nott.”  The boy in the last row jumped when his name was called.  Harry walked over to him and set a parchment face down on his desk.  “Evans.”  Having finished returning all the essays, Harry leaned against his desk and surveyed the faces of his students; most were disappointed and only a handful looked content with their grades.  

“I told you that there would not be any useless essay writing in this class.  To prove this to you, the next class is going to be practical applications of what you've learned."  He was met with blank stares from the majority of the class, but only a handful of actually interested ones, Remus among them.  "Wednesday we will meet outside with the 7th year Care of Magical Creatures class by the groundskeeper’s hut.  There have been arrangements made to have two dragons with handlers brought onto school property.  I expect you to be able to classify the specimens, with back up explanations as to how they were classified.  The class following that, I’ll explain how dragon fire fits into our study of the Dark Arts.  For all of you who did not do as well as expected I suggest you revise.  No notes - after all, parchment does tend to be highly flammable.  Class dismissed.”  

Most students had already had their books in their bags and they quickly left the room, essays in hand.  As he watched the remaining students, Black attempted to stealthily shove his essay into his bag, but Snape noticed and made a grab for the parchment.  Sensing an impending battle, Harry moved to stand over the two.

“Something wrong?”  

Black shook his head before going back to shoving his supplies into his bag.  

Snape looked startled, but quietly replied, “No, sir.”  He blushed, his cheeks just taking on the barest hint of pink, before picking up his books and hurrying out of the classroom, and knowing Severus as he did, Harry was almost sure the young man was cursing his pale complexion all the way.  Not that he ever did anything to change it.  

As soon as the door closed behind him, Harry turned to see Sirius Black and James Potter shuffling from foot to foot, waiting for their expected punishment.  

Levelling a hard gaze at them both, Harry sighed and leaned against his desk.  “I’m not so much angry as I am disappointed.”  The two boys flinched at his choice of words.  Harry knew from experience that it always felt worse when teachers were disappointed than if they were just angry.  It was McGonagall's guilt trip of choice, after all.  James looked down at the toes of his shoes and tried not to look at him, while Sirius had done the opposite and was looking at the ceiling.  “I expected better from the two of you.”

James bit his bottom lip in an oddly reminiscent gesture.  “Can we have another chance, Professor Tyler?”

“The grade will stand.”  At this pronouncement the two boys seemed to deflate.  Harry shook his head.  “However, if you redo the essay by Friday afternoon so that I can have it graded in time for the practical lesson then I will see what can be done.”  Immediately, the two boys grinned and looked toward each other.  “This is your final warning.  If I ever catch either of you doing something like this again, you will find yourselves expelled so fast that you won’t even have time to say 'Gryffindor.’”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will not inform your Head of House.  This time.  As long as I have your solemn promise you won't repeat this with any of the other teachers at this school.”

“I promise, Professor.”  James looked him right in the eye.

“Good.  And you, Mr. Black?”

Sirius jerked his head in a quick nod.  “It was a stupid and foolish thing to do.  I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“Very well, then.  Off you go.  I’m sure that Madam Pince will point you in the right direction.”  The two boys hoisted their bags and started toward the door.  “One last thing."  They looked back at him.  "Stay away from anything written by Hugh Newtit.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Harry sat down in his chair as the door closed.  He had a vague feeling that he had just made himself seem like a pushover to the two boys.  Putting his head in his hands, he sighed.  The beginnings of a headache were noticeable around his temples and his shoulders.  Why couldn't he have taught Muggle Studies in this time, too?

Harry watched as Madam Pomfrey took care of the three students that had been burned during the practical lesson.  Luckily, the burns hadn't been bad; after all, he'd seen much worse during his time in Romania, but he still had no idea what had happened.    Salve and ointment applied, Poppy ordered that they all rest and she made her way over to him, waving her wand to remove the stasis spell that she had placed him under.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the tingling sensation from the spell vanished, but was soon flinching as she poked and prodded the gash on his chest.  He smiled slightly as she tutted at him irritably.

“What deluded you into thinking that wrestling a dragon would be a good idea, Professor Tyler?”

“Would you believe that I used to do it for fun?”

She made a disapproving clucking sound with her tongue.  "Take off your shirt.”

Harry leaned forward. “Why, Poppy, I didn’t realise—“

She cut him off quickly, a pink flush across her cheeks. “Nonsense.  I need to get a good look at that wound.”  

Grimacing, he lifted his arms to take off his shirt.  Finally managing the task, though with some difficulty, he surrendered to Poppy's not-so-tender mercies until a gasp from behind him made him turn.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Snape?  I already took care of those burns - is there another injury that I should be aware of?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Harry was startled at the meek tone coming from Snape.  His student's eyes were wide and his cheeks were red.  Harry's attention was drawn away from the young man, however, as Poppy grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn further around.

“Gentle, Poppy.  I didn’t hurt my back.  What’s so interesting?”  Harry felt her fingers trace the large red and gold shield on his back and then the silver snake that wrapped around it, and could guess what she was thinking.  “About four or five years ago, I went out with a friend of mine.  The two of us drank a bit too much, and we ended up at a wizarding tattoo parlour. Somehow, I was convinced to have that put on my back.  I’ve grown rather fond of it.”  It wasn't commonplace for anyone to walk around with the symbols of two Houses entwined, especially those two houses, etched permanently into his skin.  But it represented who he was and he wouldn't take it back for anything.  The Gryffindor and the Slytherin.

Her curiosity satisfied, it still took Poppy some time to clean out the wound of all poison.  The substance that coated the claws of juvenile dragons tended to be more deleterious than that of an adult dragon.  Of course, this gave them the added protection they needed while going through multiple molting stages when they shed their skin -- and therefore their protective scales -- while growing, but made them much more dangerous to people of a mind to wrestle them.  Once all the poison had been nullified, it only took a few moments for her to heal it.  

Pulling on his shirt, Harry made his way over to where the three students were in bed recovering from their minor burns.

“Who can tell me what happened?  Professor Augustin and I were otherwise engaged when the three of you got burned.”

It was James Potter that answered.  He was the only one of the four students in the hospital wing that hadn't been hurt, and the only one that hadn't listened when Harry snapped at the class to return to the classroom until the end of the period.   “Well, after the dragon escaped and you jumped in front of it, Snape backed up into one of the heat resistant posts that we were using to test the strength of dragon fire."  Potter glanced at Snape, a smirk on his face.  "Obviously, he's a coward.  A real man would have--"

Lily broke him off and finished the story.  “The post hit the adult dragons we were working with.  We didn't realize that anything was wrong until a gush of scalding air touched us.  But there wasn't any fire."

“So the dragon was just full of hot air?”  Harry smirked.  Laughter was the best medicine.  At least there weren't any critics in this time to tell him how awful his jokes were.

“Professor, where did you learn to wrestle dragons like that?”  Severus's voice broke into the quieting laughter.  James and Lily looked expectantly at him while Sirius attempted to glare at the Slytherin for opening his mouth, but failed; it was obvious that all of the students were interested in his answer.  

It took Harry a moment to decide on a course of action, finally opting for an abbreviated form of the truth.  “I used to work with a dragon colony, though only for a short time.  I would help out a few of the handlers when the smaller dragons would get out of hand.  It didn't take long to learn that a quick way of getting one back under control was to make a slight cut between their claws on one of their hind legs.  It doesn't hurt them, just gives them a bit of a shock, but they'll stop immediately.  To do it, you have to get near to their hind legs, and to do that, you wrestle them.  Takes a while to get the hang of.”

The four students looked at him with mixed degrees of awe on their faces, and Harry had to keep himself from fidgeting.  Sirius finally broke the silence, but when he did, he didn't make Harry any more comfortable.  “That must have taken bollo-- nerves of steel.  Weren’t you scared?”

“No.  I’ve had worse things happen to me.”  Harry smiled at his students before standing up although his smile didn't reach his eyes.  The last thing he needed was any sort of hero worship.  “I'd better get going.  Madam Pomfrey will have my head if I don’t let you rest.  Mr. Potter, I believe your next class starts in fifteen minutes.  I expect to hear that you attended.”  Without waiting for a response he turned to leave.

Steps away from the door, he heard Sirius's voice.  "I told you that he had to have been a Gryffindor, James.  That's a galleon you owe me."

Chapter Three:  The Consequences of Saving a Life

Entering the Common Room, James spotted Sirius sitting in front of the fire.  He glanced around and his gaze landed on Lily perched at one of the tables, studying.  At least neither looked the worse for wear after today's incident.  He breathed a sigh of relief and headed over toward the couch where Sirius was sitting.

"Did you see it, Sirius?"

"Yeah."  Sirius hadn't turned to look at him, and was, in fact, just staring into the fire.

From the corner of his eye, James saw Remus and Peter approaching; they must have just got back from their last class, though for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was.  Remus made his way over and claimed the armchair next to him before Peter could, and Peter took the space on the floor in front of Sirius, a disgruntled look on his face.

The disruption in his view of the fire must have startled Sirius out of his stupor, because he sat up a bit straighter and actually looked around at the group that had surrounded him.

"What's wrong, Sirius?"

He shrugged.  "Well, I was contemplating the fire until Peter sat his fat arse down in front of it."

"Very... Very fu... funny, Sirius."  Peter didn't smile, and instead drew off toward the side, away from the centre of the group.

No one was looking at James, and since Sirius had already rebuffed his attempt to start a conversation, James turned his efforts to Remus and tugged on his sleeve.

"Did you see Professor Tyler today?  That was bloody brilliant!"

A disapproving cough sounded from the other side of the room, and James looked in the direction that it had come from.  Lily was glaring at him.

"Sorry, Evans, did I insult your sensibilities?"

Remus lowered his voice and leaned closer.  "You do realize that you aren't convincing her to go out with you."

"It's called 'playing hard to get'.  I saw it in a Muggle film."

Remus rolled his eyes.  "Well I don't think your technique is working."

"Never mind that.  Did you see him?  Running toward the dragon with his dagger drawn and-"

"You do realize that he could have died doing that?"

James stared at Sirius.  "Ah, so you've finally decided to wake out of your stupor.  About bloody time."

The sound of a book slamming made James look over his shoulder.  Lily was standing up and glaring at the group of them.  He grinned.  A pull on his arm forced him to return his attention back to his friends.

"I mean it, James.  He jumped in front of a goddamned dragon because it was going to attack the students.  He's lucky he only got hurt."

"But it was only a scratch, Sirius, and it wasn't like anything bad happened.  Don't be so serious, Sirius."

"You do realize that's an awful joke," Remus said.

"Well, I think we should call a truce.  The Marauders shouldn't prank him anymore.  How many of the teachers would have done what he did?"

"About time, it's not like any of our pranks ever worked anyway."

"He... he always figured them out."

Remus nodded, picked a book out of his bag, and started reading.

James had thought that the last prank had been brilliant; they just hadn't deployed it at the right time.  But the one that they had thought up a few days ago would be sure to work.  "You can't mean that, Sirius."

"They're right."

He leaned back into the cushions and crossed his arms.

"Lose something, Potter?"

He looked up at Lily who was dangling his failed Defence Against the Dark Arts essay over his head.  "Shite!  Give that back, Evans."

"You really should watch your language."  Lily jerked the paper out of his reach at the last moment.  "Such a shame if Professor McGonagall found out about it.  Didn't she mention something to you about your father wanting to be kept posted about your grades?"

"I mean it, Evans."

"What will you give for it?"

He lunged forward and since the paper was out of reach tried to grab her waist, but she stepped back.  

"Think about it, James."  Lily turned on her heel and headed for the stairs.

James stared after her before turning and grinning at his friends.  "She likes me."

"Are you all right, Severus?"  Lucius made his way across the sixth year Slytherin boys' dormitory to perch himself on the edge of Severus's bed.  "I noticed that you were one of the students who got burned during that class."

He didn't bother looking up.  "Don't you have better things to do than interrupt my revision?"  After a moment, knowing that Lucius wouldn't answer and wouldn't leave, he continued, "I'm perfectly fine.  If I wasn't, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have let me out of the hospital wing."

"Professor Tyler made quite the impression on the students today."  He cut into Severus's thoughts.  "That dagger.  I never thought that I'd actually see him use it.  It's rather deadly, isn't it?"

The book shut with a snap.  "I'm glad that you've come to appreciate that dagger.  Or did you forget that the night of the opening feast I had to watch it come flying toward us?  All because of you."

Lucius waved his hand dismissively, and Severus reopened his book to flip back to what he had been reading.

"I'm talking to you.  Don't ignore me."

"I'm not ignoring you, I am simply choosing not to answer."

Glaring, Lucius snatched the book out of Severus's hands and started flipping through the pages, not really reading any.  "What is this, Potions?"

Severus reached for the book, but Lucius jerked it away, and paused to read one of the pages, his gaze skimming over the words quickly.  "This is Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Severus pursed his lips and glared.

"Don't tell me you're studying this rot again.  It's so much better to actually practice the Dark Arts instead of learning to defend against them."  He tossed the book to the side and it landed on the floor with a heavy clunk.  "Have you heard from your grandfather?  Did he send you any new curses, or hexes?  Poisons?"

"Do be quiet."  Severus started to lean over the edge of the bed to grab the book, but Lucius's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What's so interesting about Defence?"  His eyes narrowed.  "You always study, but never this much."  He paused with a smirk.   "No, it's impossible."

"Go away, Lucius."  Severus's gaze hardened.

"You like the Defence teacher."  Severus could see Lucius thinking of ways to use this information to his advantage.  "Why?  He certainly doesn't like the Slytherins at all."

Severus leaned back, his shoulders slouching.  "That's just it.  He doesn't particularly like any of the Houses, he doesn't take sides.  He doesn't prejudge us."  He reached over and grabbed the Defence book.  

"There has to be more to it than that.  Something to be gained."

Severus sighed.  "There isn't anything to be gained, but I don't expect you to understand that."

Lucius glared.

"It's his eyes."  He lifted the book to go back to his reading, but Lucius's hand fell on top of it, holding it in place.  There was no way he'd be left alone until he answered.  Even if he did feel like he only had an idiot's answer.  His eyes.  "There are shadows in them, deep shadows that aren't natural, that had to have been put there because of something, some pain that he went through.  And then there are times, during class when he's teaching, his eyes will spark, and that cold façade just melts."  Severus closed his eyes.  "I can feel his pain."

Lucius snickered.  "That's classic, that is.  Severus Snape has a crush on a teacher.  What happened to teachers being too old?  Or is it different when you think that the professor is attractive?"

"Shut up."

"Fine.  But what are you going to do about it?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow.  "I'm going to do nothing."

Lucius shook his head.  "You should check the school rules.  Last I saw, there were no rules against teachers and students fraternizing."  Standing, he straightened his robe and put on his most condescending expression.  The one that always got on Severus's nerves.  "Another trip to the library can't possibly hurt your reputation."

At the sound of the door closing, Harry looked up from where he was sitting contemplating the scroll in front of him.  He sighed in frustration, and pushed it away from him before returning the Headmaster's scrutiny.

"It's all right, Fabian, you can leave.  I would like to have a word alone with Octavian."

"'Course.  'Night, Octavian."

"Likewise."

The Headmaster took his seat after Fabian left and pulled two scrolls toward him -- one was the un-translated section of scroll Harry had been given and the other was his translation.  He briefly wondered if the Headmaster could read his writing, but then shrugged it off.  In the confines of the small, windowless room he'd been placed in, he felt like a student that was being tested instead of someone who held the key to deciphering Voldemort's plans.

Albus narrowed his eyes.  "How goes the translation, Octavian?"

The tone of voice and the look on his face were so familiar to Harry.  He'd seen them many times during the course of watching Albus question those he was suspicious of, but never had that look been turned on him.  He might as well be under Veritaserum for all the good lying would do him at the moment.  Not that he had any intention of doing so.

"As well as could be expected, Albus."  The deliberate use of the Headmaster's name put Harry at ease, and he motioned toward the parchment that Albus held in one hand.

Adjusting his half-moon glasses on the tip of his nose, Albus scrutinized the parchment, his eyes flying over the words.  Harry knew what he was looking at: the list of titles that Voldemort had given himself.

"Quite a pompous man Voldemort is, don't you think?"

Harry nodded.

"I suppose the phrases still in Parseltongue couldn't be translated."

"Not unless you want me to write a dissertation on the social structure in snake colonies."

"I see."  Albus returned to his reading, finally looking up when he reached the end, though there wasn't that much more translated.  "Attack plans?"

"As far as I could gather, yes."

"Any given timeframe for it?"

Harry shook his head.  "I'm afraid not.  It's what I was looking for when you came in, but I hadn't had any luck yet.  By all appearances, he just moves onto the next plan.  My guess is that he just kept the information to himself in case something like this happened.  After all, we have the scroll and someone to translate it."

"We?"

Harry coughed.  "I might not be fighting alongside the Order, sir, but I still am translating a scroll that will hopefully bring down the Dark Lord."

"For a price."

"All men have a price."

"You could be lying.  This," he held out the translation, "could be fake.  There's no one to tell us otherwise except the man who wrote it."

Harry nodded.  "The only way you'll know is if you take into account what I have translated."  There really wasn't a point to bringing up whether or not he was trustworthy.  If Albus didn't think so, he wouldn't have let 'Octavian' anywhere near the scroll.  But that didn't mean the man was going to take any chances, hence Fabian to keep an eye on him while he was working.

"I will inform the Weasleys about the possibility of an attack and arrange for a safe house.  Hopefully we'll be in time."

"Hope is all one can do in such situations."

Albus nodded.  "Sleep.  It's already past midnight, and I believe you've been working on this since shortly after dinner.  I've arranged for some tea to be left in your rooms.  Good night, my boy."

Standing, Harry headed toward the door.  Albus patted his shoulder on the way out, and Harry drew some comfort from it.  Saving the Weasleys was as important to him as it was to the Order, but he could never show that.  It would be worse than devastating to him if he had somehow skewed the timeline and had translated that plan too late.  It was certainly a thought he'd prefer not thinking about.

"Good night, Albus."

*Future:  Harry's Seventh Year*

Harry stretched, his back arching slightly off the bed, before he twisted toward Severus, settling his cheek against Severus's shoulder.

"Have you been possessed by a deranged feline, Potter?"

He turned his face so he could press a kiss to Severus's sternum and smiled.  "I've never heard you complain about it before."

"Obviously I've never been in my right mind before."

Harry shivered at the light touch of Severus's fingers down his spine.  "And you are now?"

"Of course.  Which also explains why I am about to kick you out and send you back up to Gryffindor Tower.  I should never have even let you down here tonight."

Harry rubbed his cheek against the chest beneath him, his tongue darting out to lick at one nipple before blowing a stream of air on it.  He both felt and heard Severus's sharp intake of breath, and he smiled.

"I could just stay here."

"You have N.E.W.T.s tomorrow, in case it has slipped your diminutive mind."

Harry frowned.  "Only my Defence one, and you know perfectly well that I can pass that in my sleep."

"Nevertheless, you should have spent the evening studying."

Harry sighed and rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows.  "Why?"

"Even someone as advanced as you in the field could do with a basic review, Mr Potter."

Harry scrunched his nose.  "Don't call me that when we're in bed.  It's... just don't."

"Then I would suggest that you stop complaining."

He breathed in deeply.  "Then you should stop trying to kick me out."

Severus narrowed his eyes.  "Go to sleep."

"I have a first name, Se-ver-us."

Severus brushed his fingers through Harry's hair, pulling at it and forcing his head to turn up to face him.  "Good night, Harry."

Harry grinned and settled back against Severus's side.  The room was quiet, and he was nowhere near tired, so his mind wandered.  No matter the situation, Severus was in some way or form looking out for him.  Severus was either on his case about studying for exams or pulling him out of a situation that would most likely get him killed, and Severus was always doing such things.

"Why?"

"I'm afraid that you've forgotten over half of your question.  And you are supposed to be sleeping.  Do not force me to change my mind and send you back to the Tower."

"Why are you always there pulling me out of danger?"

"It's my job; after all, you are my student."

Harry made a face.  "Not because you love me?"

"Impertinent brat."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but dropped the subject.  He ran his hand down Severus's side, settling it on his hip, and with his thumb, he rubbed small circles over the bone.  "I think I might.  For sure.  Where you can't say it's a silly infatuation that I'll get over."

"You're confused.  Obviously the lack of a proper night's sleep has addled your brain.  This will be the last time you spend the night before any exams."

"Then it's a good thing that tomorrow is my last N.E.W.T."

"At last, Harry Potter leaves Hogwarts.  It's what the entire teaching staff has been waiting for."

"Your sense of humour kills me, Severus."

"If only."

"I don't know why I put up with you."

"When you've figured it out, please inform me.  I will be delighted to know what ailment of the brain consumed you so many months ago."

"You're a prat."

"I should kick you out of bed for that comment, Potter."

"But you won't."

"I'd suggest that you close that mouth of yours and-"

"-go to sleep.  I have a better idea."  He leaned up until he was close enough to run his tongue along Severus's bottom lip.  "Something much more satisfactory than sleep, and a much better use for my mouth."  Closing his lips over Severus's, he drew him into a kiss.

Chapter Four:  Odd Friendships

*The Past*

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly before turning his attention back to the papers he had spread out in front of him.  A headache was looming right behind his eyes, and he wished he could just forget about the lesson plans that he was working on and go soak -- and perhaps fall asleep -- in a hot bath.  Unfortunately, that was not an option.  Sighing, he picked up his quill and wrote some notations in the margins.

He didn't even realize that someone had walked into the room until a shadow crossed the paper.

Immediately, he looked up into a face he did not know. How could someone sneak up on him like that, he wondered.  There weren't many people who could, and none of them were in this time.  Muttering a curse, he slipped his hand down to his wand and pulled it out of its holster.

"Can I help you?"

"I should be offended, I really should."

He knew that voice.  "Malfoy."

Malfoy's face fell into the lines of his familiar smirk.  "But what shall I call you?  Potter or Tyler?  Or maybe Octavian."  Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.  Only after Harry had brought his hand back above the desk, sans wand, did Draco turn and lock and silence the room.

"Where's Severus?"

Draco brushed his hand through brown hair that really didn't suit him.  "Couldn't make it."  He picked up a paperweight that was holding down a stack of parchment, and Harry was forced to settle a book in its place.  "How have you been?  Working hard?"

"Why couldn't he make it?  What happened?"

"Can't you make my life simple for once and just answer the questions, Potter?  You're like that mangy godfather of yours, gnawing at a bone."

Harry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, not saying anything, and he wouldn't until he had his answers.  

"He's in the hospital wing, not that he didn't try to get out, mind you, but Poppy would have none of it.  He had a bad run in with the Cruciatus at the last meeting.  Apparently the Dark Lord wasn't appreciative of his not knowing where exactly you were sent on assignment; after all, it's not like you could just vanish off the face of the planet."  Draco glared.  "I hope you're happy.  Severus is going to skin me alive for telling you."

"Thank you, Draco.  Why didn't he want me to know?"

Draco shrugged.  "He said that you would worry too much."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Well someone has to worry about the git.  He certainly doesn't worry about himself.

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Draco's eyes narrow.  "Headache?"

He nodded.

"How bad?"

"A non-Voldemort caused migraine.  I've been getting them off and on for the past month."

Draco heaved a sigh.  "You do realize that if you had told Sirius then Severus would have made up some of the potion you take.  Why you didn't insist on bringing some with you in the --"

"The first one set in about a minute after Sirius left.  I've tried the stuff that Poppy gave me, but it wasn't strong enough.  Which is why I didn't bring any.  I was hoping that I'd be able to wean myself off the stuff that Severus brews so by the time I got back, I could take a lot less of it."

"And as usual, your brilliant plan isn't working."

"Shove it, Malfoy."

They glared at each other, more for show than because of any actual animosity between them.  Harry was the first to look away, and he knew, without turning his gaze in Draco's direction, that Draco was smirking about it.

"I assume that Albus wants an update."

"You shouldn't be surprised.  Since the beginning of this thing, he's been saying that he has no intention of abandoning you in the past for a year."

"I assure you it's out of no love for me, Draco.  He just wants to make sure I don't screw with the timeline, and the best way to do that is to have people keep an eye on me."

Draco's face softened.  "Sirius is right; you've been spending too much time with Severus.  His dour outlook on everything is rubbing off on you."

Harry shrugged.  "So what does he want to know?"

"Did you feel him get called?  Is the bond affecting you?"

Harry looked at him.  "If it was, would I ask why you had to show up?"  Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply and forced himself to relax.  "Sorry.  We're in different time periods, so of course I couldn't feel anything.  I'm not bonded to the Severus of this time."

Draco dropped the paperweight haphazardly on the desk and placed his palms flat against its surface to brace himself.  "I keep trying to figure out why the two of you did that."

"It was just a blood rite, Draco.  You can read all about it in the library."

"In the Restricted Section."

"We aren't students anymore."

"In the Dark Arts books."

Harry shrugged.  It was something that Draco didn't understand, couldn't understand, and they had been through it enough times that Harry just didn't feel like rehashing the whole thing.  As it stood, Draco knew more than most about the bond between Severus and Harry.

"The translation?  Albus wants to check your progress with his memories."

"It's still a slow process.  I'm supervised every session, but I now have access to the entirety of the scroll.  As far as I'm aware of, the Order still has doubts about my trustworthiness, and a few are adamantly against my viewing the scroll at all, but Albus has enough sway to gainsay them."

Draco nodded and headed over to a chair, propping a foot up on the desk.  "So how are you getting along with your students?"

"Fine."

"Been following Albus's last directive?"

Harry narrowed his eyes.  "Did he put you up to asking?"

"More like demanded it actually.  Didn't tell me what he meant though."

"Then you can tell him that young Master Snape is just fine, and that I haven't done anything untoward."

Draco laughed.  "He's forbidden you from carrying on with a student?  Well that shouldn't be a problem.  If Severus is anything like he is now then he must be one obnoxious prick for a sixteen year old."

Harry shrugged.  "He's quiet in my class, and has been since shortly after the year started.  If I can read my students properly-"

"And you have been for years."

"-then I'd say he has a teenage crush."

Draco placed his fist over his heart - overdramatic, but then again, Draco was always one to exaggerate.  "It must be killing you to watch him fall for someone else."

"Not at all.  I believe that he's developed a crush on me."

Draco guffawed.  "I don't believe you."

"Ginny Weasley first and second year."

Draco shook his head.  "Snape?  A crush like that?  Impossible."

"He's the first to come to class, and the last to leave.  Shows up in my office at least twice a week to ask the most ridiculous questions.  Questions, I might add, that he knows the answer to perfectly well.  He never takes notes in class."  Harry looked at Draco.  In his opinion the last was proof enough, but he continued.  "I can feel him following me with his eyes every lesson.  It's unnerving.  Not to mention he blushes every time I acknowledge his presence with the least bit of kindness."

"And he talks about you constantly."

"I wouldn't know.  If I'm anywhere near him he won't talk, doesn't matter who he was chatting with before."

Draco sat up.  "Who would have thought that Snape was once a normal teenager?"

"Was I that bad during sixth year?"

Draco shrugged.  "I never noticed, and, from what I understand, neither did Granger or the Weasel.  Speaking of whom..."  He rummaged through the pockets of his coat and started to pull out various things.  "The box is from Granger, and she said that Weasley would be home by the time you got back.  Why you would want to even talk to that red-headed moron is beyond me."

Harry rolled his eyes upwards.  He might get along with Malfoy, but Hermione and Ron... He didn't think there would ever be anything resembling peace in that quarter.

"Severus sent you some more Dreamless Sleep and Pepper-Up and whatever else it is you dose yourself with.  I'll tell him you need some of his Headache draught.  He sent a book too.  Said that you'd been waiting for it to be released."  Draco held it out and Harry snatched it, skimming through the pages.  "What's it about?"

"Forming barriers and shields against advanced Dark Arts using basic spells that don't require complex rituals.  Remus and Severus have already drilled the stuff into my head, but it'll be nice to know what Rupert Knight has to say on the subject."  Harry closed the book and set it down on the desk; there would be time to look at it later.  "I'll have to charm it to look like something old and boring."

"I'd just cast the blank page spell.  And if you get the locking spell just right, you won't have to worry about anyone reading it at all."

Harry turned a questioning gaze on Draco.

"The spell all the girls learned in our fifth year to cast on their diaries."

"Wouldn't know, didn't spend any time trying to figure out what girls wrote in their diaries."  Harry's stomach growled and he glanced down at the watch on his desk.  It was almost supper and he had eaten nothing since breakfast.  "Care for a bite to eat?"

"Three Broomsticks?  I want to see what Rosmerta looks like now."

Harry grinned.  "Fine, but I better not end up in another Wizarding tattoo parlour."

"Then I wouldn't touch anything harder than water, Potter."

Severus had all of the various school charters spread out in front of him on the library table.  Each tome detailed the various regulations that had been passed over the years.  Severus decided that he would go back to the oldest issues just to make sure that it wasn’t an early law that had been taken for granted and not recopied in the newer books.  So far he hadn’t found anything that would keep him from having a relationship with Professor Tyler.  

Actually there were quite a few old laws that could be interpreted in a way that would encourage it.

Of course he had to convince his professor that he wasn’t just a silly child first.  That would have to wait until after he covered the rules.  As Severus thought about it, he came to the conclusion that it was quite ordered, like potion making.  Each step had to be completed before the next.  

Shaking his head, Severus picked up one of the older books and started flipping through the pages looking for any section that such rules might be under.  If he read each book cover to cover, it could take years.

“I heard about your grandfather.  My condolences.  I know you were close to him.”

Severus jumped and the book he was flipping through fell to the table.  Looking over the pile of books, he could see Black leaning against a shelf of books.  “It happened almost three weeks ago.  He wouldn’t have wanted me to dwell on it.  Besides, it’s not like he died.  He’s just in a ministry cell.  Four months there and a 500 galleon fine.  But then you didn’t come here to talk about my grandfather.  What do you want, Black?”

“I came to call a momentary truce.”

Severus narrowed his eyes and glared.  “Now why would you want to do that?  We’ve been doing so well at hating each other.  Let’s continue.  Go away.”

“I can’t continue trying to get you angry if you never get angry.  I’ve never had this problem before.  You always rise to the bait.”  Sirius gave Snape a very insincere smile.

“I have more important things to do than to have this immensely idiotic conversation.  Leave.”

“Something’s been bothering you.  Why don’t you just tell me so I can help and then we can go back to hating each other and fighting and what not?  Then everyone will be happy again.”  Sirius sat down across from Severus.  He examined all of the books on the table.  “Why are you going through the rule books?  Trying to get us in trouble?”

“No.”

“This is my point.  Your answer is supposed to be yes.  We are the bane of your existence.  You hate us.  We hate you.  It’s the way the world works.  We make your life unbearable and you and your friends do the same for us.  Wait, I forgot, you don't have any.”

Severus raised one eyebrow and looked at the boy across from him.  “You are so simplistic, Black.  I’m not attempting to get you expelled, but trust me that I would like nothing better.  I’m just trying to find some school rules on a particular matter.  It will go much faster if you leave.”

“You haven’t been acting yourself lately.  It’s really noticeable in Defence class when Professor Tyler is lecturing.”  

Severus could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and he cursed himself.  One day he wouldn't let his emotions show so easily.  They were causing him too much trouble.

Which became all the more obvious when Black next spoke, a lopsided grin on his face.  “You’re falling for a teacher.  That’s what you’re looking for.  Rules regarding student-teacher relationships."  Black shrugged.  "Well, you might as well stop looking.”

“What do you mean?”

“There aren’t any.  You are free to pursue any teacher you like.  James and I know every single rule in this school backwards and forwards.  We researched this one a couple years ago to make sure we had it right before we started… never mind.”

“I don’t want to know."  Severus paused, his eyes narrowing further.  "Why should I trust you anyway?”  

“Consider it one last favour.  Besides, I think that you hooking up with Professor Tyler is a really bad idea.  But I can think of a few up points.”

“You said there aren’t any school rules.”

“Nothing to do with rules.  It’s a bad idea because the man is bloody dangerous.  In case you don’t remember he took on a dragon, single-handed.  Of course he might just kill you, so that could always be considered a plus.”  

“I don’t think he would.”  Severus stood and started to pile the books into a neat pile.

“Now that I’ve done my good deed for the day…” Black leaned over and knocked the pile of books onto the ground.  Smiling, he turned and headed to the exit.

Severus glared at his retreating back.  “I’m going to make your life a living hell, Black.”

Sirius turned back around, his hands in his pockets and the stupid grin still plastered on his face.  “That’s what I expect.”

*Future:  Harry age 21*

Harry paced back and forth across the living room floor of the flat that he shared with Ron in London.  Looking up, he stared at the two clocks that were hung on the wall.   There were two hands on the wizarding clock, Harry's and Ron's.  Ron's hand was pointed at 'work' and Harry's was pointed at 'bored'.  Glaring, he turned to look at the other clock.  Six o'clock. On a Saturday.  

He had to do something before he drove himself insane.  This mandatory vacation was going to kill him.  So what if he worked too much?  Someone had to cover the slacking off of others.

Mentally Harry went through the options he had for the evening.  There weren't many.  Ron was on assignment, one that Harry had put him on.  So he could blame himself for that.  Hermione was still attending classes at University.  Sirius was taking his turn teaching Defence while Remus was out of the country, working for the Order.  

And Severus was busy.

Damn his procrastination.  When Harry called, Severus had pointedly said he had too much grading to do to entertain him and would, in fact, ignore him until the pile of papers was covered in red ink.

That left one person.  Harry sighed before heading over to the fire.  Tossing in a bit of floo powder, he stuck his head in the fire and spoke Draco's name.  He had a feeling he was going to regret this.  As usual.

The Broomsticks looked the same as it had the last time he'd met Draco for drinks there.  It looked the same as it had since school.  It was something that Harry was grateful for.  Lack of change was nice in a few things.  It meant stability.

Draco was, as always when they met for drinks, at a corner table.  A bottle of firewhiskey was already sitting in the middle, and there was one tumbler upside down at the chair across from him.

"Starting without me, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked and lifted his glass in a silent toast.  "I do try."  He nodded after Harry took his seat, and reached across the table to turn over Harry's glass and pour him a portion.  "So why here?  And why me and not one of your sycophants?"

"Why not you?"  Harry took a long drink and poured himself some more.

"Oh, I'm sure that Severus could have found some way to entertain you down in those drafty dungeons of his."

“Shut up, Draco.  Or did you forget that we’re keeping it quiet?”

“Sooner or later your godfather will find out, and then the whole world will be made aware of it as he is carted off to Azkaban for killing Severus.”  

"I'm hoping for later, personally.  I don't want to have to come between those two anytime in the near future.  I have enough to deal with, thanks."

Draco shrugged.  “That still doesn’t answer why we’re here instead of you heading over to the dungeons.  Wasn’t the last visit to St. Mungo’s proof enough that the two of us shouldn’t go drinking together without supervision?”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair.  "I'd really rather not think about it.  Alcohol poisoning and blood loss should never go together.  Besides, I have to spend some time with someone other than Severus.  Didn't a wise man once say that man could not exist on sex alone?"

Coughing, Draco glared at Harry.  "Not amusing, Potter.  Don't forget I have a picture in my head to go along with that."

"Knocking on a professor's door is a very important thing to do."

"You make a lousy comedian."

"And here I thought I was doing a bang-up job."  Harry laughed, and even Draco stopped glaring and chuckled slightly.

It was nice, this camaraderie that they had built up over the years.  Once all the hate had been removed from their bickering -- a miraculous feat in and of itself -- it was fun to trade barbs with someone who would return them with equal gusto.

Harry took another drink and watched Draco watching him.  He knew what Draco was doing because he was doing the exact same thing: counting scars, and changes in appearance from the last time they had seen each other.  It must have been months.

Draco's hair was hanging down in his face, and he was much more relaxed than he had ever been at school.  His ego was still intact, however.  But then, any Malfoy without an ego wouldn't be a Malfoy.  Looking over Draco's shoulder he caught sight of the butt of a revolver sticking out of a holster hidden in his jacket.

Some things never changed.

"I miss my gun.  I miss most of my weapons, actually.  I hate relying on just magic to save my arse if I get in trouble."

Draco looked at him as he poured more whiskey into his glass, ignoring the bit that splashed over his hand because he wasn't looking at what he was doing.  "Then why don't you carry them?  Death Eaters are too obsessed with the stupidity of Muggles to ever check for Muggle weapons on a person.  Got me out of a few scrapes."

Harry nodded.  "Not always the case, but in general it's a good rule.  Unfortunately the Ministry thinks like them a little too often.  I'm not allowed any visible weapons.  So my gun is in its case somewhere in Severus's rooms."

"Damn.  You'd think they'd want to keep you alive."  Harry felt Draco's eyes rake over him again.  Looking for hidden weapons, no doubt.  "Your dagger and some darts.  Shite, Potter, have you gone barmy?"

"That's all I could hide easily.  Even now that Moody doesn't spot check me any more, I'm still in the habit of not carrying much more around than my wand."

Shaking his head, Draco emptied the last bit of whiskey into Harry's glass and signalled Rosmerta to bring a new bottle.  “Why are you even with the Aurors, anyway?  I mean, I’m sure that you’d be more use to the Order than the Ministry."  Rubbing his fingers over his jaw, Draco looked like he was thinking, but it was really too casual of a gesture for him, in Harry's opinion.  "I hear that Albus is looking for a new teacher next term."

He'd been right.  "Yes, the Defence Against the Dark Arts position."  Harry shook his head.  "He's offered me that job every year since I've come back from Romania."

Rosmerta set another bottle down between them.  "No fighting.  No knives, no... whatever else you two are carrying.  I don't care how pissed you get.  Any blood spills on my floor, and I'll just cart your bodies outside and leave them there."

"Oh, Rose, you know you'd miss us if we were to die and leave you forever.  Who would you yell at for destroying your bar?"  Draco said, smirking.

"No one, and that would be a good thing."  Rosmerta slapped him on the shoulder.  Draco alone was a common fixture in the pub, Harry knew.  It was only when the two of them were both there and there was alcohol involved that things could get... out of hand.  "You break any of my tables this time--"

"And there won't be anything left for St Mungo's to fix.  We know."  Harry grinned at her and, returning the smile, Rosmerta left them to their conversation.

"So take the job.  It'd be worth it to be closer to Severus, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know if I want to live with Severus."

Draco waved a finger at him.  "That's not an excuse.  You could live with him now.  In fact, you did live with him for a while there."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Whatever happened to that arrangement anyway?  You moved back in with Ron fast enough."

"Severus is impossible to live with."

Harry turned away from Draco's questioning stare and took another drink.  "In case you've not noticed, he's a stubborn git."

Draco snorted.  "Of course he is.  You've only realized this now after being with him for..." Draco paused.  "Bloody hell.  Four years or so."

Draco would know.  He was one of the only ones who did.  Him and Albus.  Everyone else thought something else.  Harry wasn't sure what exactly, but he didn't care either.  They never asked.

Harry took out a pen and summoned one of the napkins that Rosmerta had folded off to the side of the bar, and started drawing.  "I've always known.  The problem lies in the fact that I'm pretty stubborn too.  Makes for some nasty fights."

"Fights?  And why don't I ever see these fights?  They must be spectacular.  I'm surprised the dungeons are still intact."

Harry glared.  "We don't fight."

Draco poured more whiskey into both their glasses.  "Then how would you know?"

"I just do."

Draco nodded and drained his glass.  "Of course you do.  All-knowing Potter.  Didn't realise you did that well in Divination."  Draco snatched the napkin from under Harry's pen causing a line of black ink to go through the middle of the picture.  "What is this, and you better tell me, Harry, or I'm going to tell Rosmerta that you're drawing all over her napkins."

Harry glared and snatched the napkin back.  "The Potter family crest."  With his wand, he undid the last line that Malfoy had caused and took a drink.  A shield with a snake wrapped around it.  It wasn't too bad, if a bit shaky.  Harry drained his glass and tipped the last of the second bottle into it.

"That is not the Potter family crest."

"How would you know anyway?"

"Don't be daft.  My father."  At Harry's blank stare, Draco continued, "He had it on some documents.  Your grandfather always used it as a seal next to his signature.  And it looks nothing like that."  Draco paused to drain his glass.  "It was a sword-"

"Across a rose, that split a shield.  I know.  It looks like some little girl's romantic idealism at its worst."

Draco shrugged.  "Well it certainly doesn't look like that."

"I'm changing it to something more appropriate."

"Well I suppose as the only Potter left you can do so, not that I see a reason to, but no one ever said you had any sense of reason."  Draco smiled when Rosmerta set down a new bottle.  "So why else don't you want the teaching job?"

"My whole life is Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Makes you especially qualified, doesn't it?"  Draco refilled their glasses.

"I was planning on it actually.  Sev is right.  I'm not doing as much as I could be."

"You've already discussed this?  He's told you that you shouldn't be with the Auror division?  What happened to 'He supports all my decisions, Draco'?"

"We talked about this years ago.  It's the one that he didn't agree with.  There's an exception to every rule."

"Solves the mystery of why you moved out, though."  Draco slid out a thin stiletto from his sleeve and started toying with it.

"I wouldn't suggest carving anything in the tables, if I were you."

"Not even 'Harry Potter loves Severus Snape forever'?"  Draco smirked and balanced the tip of the blade on his finger.

"Put the weapon away or I'll take the firewhiskey!" Rosmerta yelled from her place by the bar,

"You're no fun today."  Draco flipped the stiletto and slid it back into its wrist sheath.

"Show-off."

"Haven't I always been one?  When you have a talent-"

"-make sure you abuse it?"

Draco licked a drop of whiskey from the corner of his mouth.  "There's got to be a reason that you've changed your mind other than Severus knocking some sense into you.  You're more likely to not take the job in a vain attempt to prove him wrong."

Whiskey sloshed out of both glasses as Harry poured it.

"Admit it.  You just want to be closer to Severus."

Sighing, Harry whispered, "I can't get closer to Severus."

Draco shook his head.  "I must not be hearing you right.  You live in London.  Severus lives in Scotland.  I'd say that's pretty far apart."

"Do you think we've had enough?"

"Never such a thing as enough, Harry.  Never."

"Doesn't matter where we live.  Together or separate.  We're bonded."  Harry downed his full glass of firewhiskey and then did the same to Draco's.

"Hey!  You don't go drinking a man's whiskey after giving him news that requires it."  Draco, instead of pouring more whiskey into his glass, took a swig from the bottle instead.  And then poured them each more.

Harry looked at his before shrugging and taking a sip.

"Since when?"

"About a year."

The whiskey glass almost tumbled out of Draco's fingers.  

Harry smirked and, drawing his dagger, placed the tip of it under Draco's chin and closed his mouth.  "You're being rude."

"Weapon away."

Rolling his eyes at Rosmerta, Harry turned back to face Draco who was still staring and not saying anything.  Not drinking either.

"I'm shocked."

"Then you need to drink more."

"So do you."  Draco poured the next two glasses, and the ones after those.  "I have an idea."

The bad feeling that Harry had earlier made its reappearance.

"Jesus, Harry, close your door!  That's not what I want to see when I stumble out of bed in the morning."

Harry sighed and rolled over onto his back.  Yelping, he sat up and reached around to touch his back.  He groaned.  What had happened last night?

"If you two are doing what I think you're doing that door better be shut.  While you're at it, add some silencing charms 'cause, ew Malfoy."

"Malfo-- Oh shit."  Waving his hand at the door to close it, Harry turned and saw Draco passed out next to him curled onto his side.  "Dray, wake up."  Harry prodded him with his elbow.

"I have the biggest headache."  Draco groaned.  "Of all the faces I could have woken up to, why did it have to be yours, Potter?  What happened?"

"My guess?  We got pissed and you had to help me home, but then we realized there was no one to help you home."  Harry collapsed back against the pillows and then gasping in pain, he rolled onto his side.

"Silencing charms!"

Harry glared at the door.  "When did Ron get back?  He was supposed to be gone until Monday."  Twisting, but being careful to not lie on his back, Harry glanced longingly at the bathroom door.  "And why is the door so far away?"

"I'd rather know when you got the tattoo."

Harry jerked around, biting down on his tongue as the nerves in his back screamed.  "I don't have a tattoo, I can't have a tattoo."

"Tell that to the tattoo on your back."

"Shut up, Draco.  Tell me what it is."

"Your new family crest."  Draco rolled off the bed and grabbed for his shirt, laughing.

"Oh, this has to be your fault, Draco.  Stuff like this is always your fault.  I'm going to kill you."

Draco darted through the door.  "You have to catch me first!  See you around, Weasel."  He was through the floo before Harry had even made it out of the hallway.

"Bastard."

Ron was laughing into his breakfast when Harry came into the kitchen.  "Is there a reason Malfoy just tore out of here half-dressed and with no shoes, looking rather well shagged?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then remembered that Ron -- and practically everyone else -- thought that Harry and Draco were in a torrid off and on again relationship.  Harry had no clue how that became the accepted verdict on his love life, but he wasn't going to change what they were thinking.

"Because I woke up this morning with a tattoo and decided he had to die."

"A tattoo?"  Ron stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth.  "That's bloody brilliant."  Pushing his plate over to Harry, he held out his fork.  "Want some?

Chapter Five:  Detentions

*The Past*

Severus stared straight ahead, not paying attention to anything or anyone.  He needed a plan of some sort.  Professor Tyler had rebuffed every one of his attempts to get to know him, and had caught on to his constant question-asking in his office when Severus had mistakenly asked a question that he had already answered that day during class.  After that, Tyler hadn't been nearly as patient with him.

So Severus thought up other ways that he could spend time with his professor.  Tyler never needed help, avoided dinner in the Great Hall more often then not, and was terse whenever Severus asked him any sort of question in his office or bumped into him in the hallway.

This latest plan was not one of his best, he'd admit, but it might work.  Severus had been trying to get detention with Tyler for the last two weeks.  The only one he did manage was with Black and Lupin.  It had been just his luck that Black had decided to pass notes.  And not just any notes, but ones that had to zip across the length of the room.  Professor Tyler had not been amused.

Black was an idiot.  He should know by now that Tyler never tolerated misbehaviour in his class.  It was why Severus was trying so hard to misbehave, but it was almost as if Tyler didn't want to give him detention.

This was his last chance before Christmas holidays.  There wasn't a teacher in the school that would hand out a detention to be served over holidays.  Not even Tyler.  It didn't matter.  He wasn't allowed to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas anyway.

"Mr Snape, I asked you a question."  Tyler's sharp voice penetrated Severus's little bubble of distraction.  "Do you have an answer for me?"

Severus looked down at his book, then at the board.

"Apparently not.  It seems that the grounds outside the window are more interesting than this lecture.  Pity that the grounds won't be covered on your end-of-term test."

"Sorry, sir."

Tyler nodded.  "Five points, Mr Snape.  Do pay attention."

"Yes, sir."

But Severus didn't pay attention.  It only took a moment for him to fall back into his thoughts about what to do.   Besides, if he did manage a detention for not paying attention, then so be it.  Sighing, Severus stared out toward the Great Lake.  Being a giant squid would be easier.  Much easier.  Then he wouldn't be trying to get a professor's attention.

Severus nearly jumped when a book slammed down onto the top of his desk.  "Mr Snape!  Ten points from Slytherin."  Tyler left Severus's book on the desk and folded his arms across his chest.  "Paying attention now?"

"Yes, Professor Tyler."  Perhaps angering the professor into giving him a detention wasn't a good idea at all, in any way.

"Good.  I shall tell you this once.  If I have to reprimand you one more time during this class period, you will be serving detention this evening.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."  Severus swallowed uneasily.  Excitement and anxiousness warred in the pit of his stomach.  This was it.  Any little step out of line would land him in detention even if it would normally only get points deducted.  If he wanted this, he had to do it.

Severus stared at Professor Tyler as he walked down the row of desks in the middle.  The way he talked, the way he moved, the passion he taught with -- like the class really was about life or death -- all of it made Severus want to push the limit of his relationship with him.  Tyler wasn't classically beautiful with his scars and messy hair and his lack of imposing height, but he was something, and Severus wanted to know what.

One more disruption.  Severus began tearing little pieces off the corner of his parchment and crumpled them.  Lining them all up in a neat row, he started to flick them at Black.  One hit his cheek, and then his hand, another one landed in his ear.  Each time one hit him, Black would turn and glare at him, but it didn't stop Severus.  One even landed in his mouth, and started Black coughing.

Tyler turned and looked at them, but didn't say anything before returning to teaching.  He had not, unfortunately, seen what was going on.

He didn't see Black push the pile of books off Severus's desk, and for that Severus was grateful.  He certainly didn't want Black to be sharing a detention with him.

"What do you think you're doing, you useless, idiotic Gryffindor?!"

Severus could hear Professor Tyler's sharp intake of breath from across the room.  And braced himself for a very angry professor to come bearing down on him.  He wasn't disappointed.

"Mr Snape.  I don't know how many times that I've mentioned the fact that I will not, under any circumstances, tolerate House prejudices in my class, but I do know that I've told you that if you strayed out of line once more this lesson you'd be receiving detention--"

"But-"

"No.  Be quiet.  I will see you here promptly at eight this evening.  Any further disobedience and I shall be turning you over to your Head of House to deal with."

"Yes, sir."

Severus clenched his fists as he made his way down the corridor to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to keep his hands from shaking.  He could feel the muscles in the back of his neck squeezing tight with tension, and, not for the first time, wondered if this had been a good idea at all.

That Lucius ribbed him the entire afternoon and evening didn't help.  Stupid prat.  And he'd stolen Severus's pudding at dinner since, as prefect, he decided that "naughty children" shouldn't be given sweets.

Not that Severus thought he could have eaten it, but still.

Lifting his hand, he knocked once, and heard Tyler beckoning him into the room.

The classroom looked nothing like it had that afternoon.  All the desks were piled up in the centre and the walls from floor to ceiling had been turned into tall blackboards.  Severus could feel his hands cramping up already.

"Professor, I'm sorry--"

"A minute or two tardy is not anything to concern yourself over, Mr Snape."  Tyler was sitting at his desk in the corner, marking and not looking at him.  "As you can see the room has been transfigured a bit for your detention.  If you'd please place your wand on my desk, you can get started.  The sentence for your lines is at the top left-hand corner of the back wall."

"My wand?"

"Yes, to guarantee that you do not take the quick way out.  Come on.  I doubt you want to stay here writing lines all night.  And don't write too large, and make sure that it's legible."

Severus nodded, and dropped his wand on the desk when he went to pick up the piece of chalk.  There were quite a few pieces, all a putrid shade of pink except one.  Severus hated pink.  He took the white.  It was an extremely small piece.

Severus had a feeling it wasn't magicked to work forever either.  With a longing glance at his wand, Severus moved to the back of the room where there was a small ladder waiting for him and the words "I will not insult Sirius Black during class" in crisp writing at the top of the wall.

"Professor?"

"That was the final infraction of the day, Mr Snape.  In addition, you know my feelings on House prejudice.  I thought it was fitting."

It disturbed him that Tyler hadn't even looked at him to know what he was going to ask.  A sigh escaped as he set chalk to board and started writing - and then quickly stopped.  The chalk had let out an awful sound.

He tried again.  A horrid high-pitched squeak was made no matter how lightly he pressed on the board with the chalk.  Severus glared at it, and then glared at Tyler.  He went to switch to one of the putrid pink pieces.

Half a wall of glaring pink that seemed to shimmer with sparkles later, Severus decided that he had most certainly learned his lesson.  Maybe.  Somewhat.  But regardless, he had had enough of the pink chalk.  Of course his detention wasn't over until Tyler said it was over, and he had only been writing the line for a half hour.  

This wasn't how he had thought his detention would go.  He couldn't even see Tyler at his desk since Tyler had his back to Severus , and he was on the other side of the room, and that didn't really didn't help them have a conversation.

Even when Severus had to switch pieces of chalk -- which he had to do quite often -- Tyler stayed bent over his papers marking.  The one time that Severus tried to say something, Tyler had shushed him and motioned him back to the board.

It wasn't fair.

And the sentence was irritating him.

"I will not kiss Sirius Black during class."  At least that was something that Severus could guarantee wouldn't happen.  Besides, Tyler would probably not even look at what he'd written anyway.  Just send him off.

Changing words was addictive though, and by the time he'd made headway onto the third wall the sentence wasn't anywhere near what it had once been.

Setting down his quill, Harry stretched in his seat before standing.  He hated marking essays; students often didn't have much of an imagination when writing, but just regurgitated facts that he already knew inside and out.

At least for the most part Snape had been quiet and did his lines without complaint.  And in pink chalk as well.  Harry hid his smile behind his hand.  Severus detested pink.  Always had since he was a lad of four, if Harry remembered right, and Harry knew he had.

Maybe this detention would… Harry shook his head.  No force found in the natural world would make Severus Snape and Sirius Black get along.  Not even threats from Harry had made them behave.

"All right, Mr Snape, let us see how you did, shall we?"

He heard Snape's sharp intake of breath behind him, but ignored it.  He'd probably slacked off in the middle and let his handwriting sink to the lower depths of legibility that Harry knew it could.  Even if Severus denied it every chance he had.

It became apparent that wasn't the case.  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry skimmed over the rest of the sentences.  By the end, Harry wanted nothing more than to send Severus away and hold his head in his hands, but he would not give in to that.

Unfortunate for Severus.

"Public displays of affection would not be tolerated in this classroom, so it's a good thing that you wouldn't kiss Mr Black."

Harry heard the groan and the uncomfortable shuffling behind him.  Setting his jaw, he continued his ridicule.  It never set as well with him as it did with Severus, who at times revelled in it.

"Mr Snape, I do not recall Mr Black becoming a professor.  He'd make for a rather horrible professor, I'd think."  And it was true.  Sirius spent more time yelling at his students when he was a professor than teaching them.  "As for kissing Professors, I find that a highly inappropriate action.  "As for your latest change--"

"I want to.  I'd like it very much."

"Getting… buggered by a professor is an even more inappro--"

"I don't care."

A grim smile in place, Harry stared at Snape.  "I think that you should leave, Mr Snape.  I'm docking Slytherin twenty points for this."

"I don't want to go.  I don't care.  Professor--"

"Please leave."

"No."

"Then I have no recourse other than to remove myself.  If, when I return in an hour, you are still here, I shall bring this matter to your Head of House."

"But…"

Harry didn't wait.  He turned on his heel and fled.  And felt a fool for doing so.

*Future:  Harry's sixth year*

Tightly clasping the dictionary that threatened to slide out of his sweaty hands, Harry stopped in front of Professor Snape's office.  He was being ridiculous.  He had served detention with Snape plenty of times.  And he knew his professor better now then he had any of those other times.

Then again, that was what was making him so nervous.  He had every intention of taking advantage of this detention.

He only hoped that Snape wouldn't kill him.  It was a distinct possibility, though.  Harry swallowed and opened the door.

The door ajar, Harry could see Snape bent over some scrolls, his finger tracing the words as he jotted something down on a sheaf of parchment next to him.  Research, was Harry's guess.  Snape had been doing the same thing when Dumbledore had sent him down to the dungeons over Christmas holidays so they could leave on a "favour" for the Headmaster together.

Harry shuddered.  Snape had been completely different on that trip.  Had kept Harry in check, even, and had managed to save Remus's life when Harry couldn't.

Remus said he didn't begrudge the life-debt he owed to Snape.  That there could be worse people to owe his life to.

Thinking about it, Harry realised that he was right.  Maybe.  Snape did take life-debts very seriously.  Not that he'd ask Remus for anything.  Harry was sure that Snape would rather poison himself than ask anyone for anything.

These weren't new thoughts.  Harry had been thinking about them off and on since they had gotten back from the holidays.  And about what Snape had said to him over their dinner the night he saved Remus because Harry had been too upset to do anything.

"Letting your emotions get the better of you, Harry, will never lead to anything good.  When you lose control of them, you will make idiotic mistakes, and then the consequences you're left with will be more than you can handle.  Pay attention to the task at hand.  It's even more important in life than in Potions class."

It'd been the first time he'd called him Harry too.  That alone had been enough to confuse Harry thoroughly.  The rest, Harry was still trying to work out, but it sounded almost like good advice.  And he'd called Harry 'Harry', and that was what kept going around in Harry's head. As well as the fact that he had liked the way it sounded.

Harry knew he half fancied himself in love with Snape, and if not in love at least in lust.  The first time the sound of Snape's voice entered his head when he was wanking in the shower, it had shocked him.  And had made him come harder than he had before.  Disturbing at first, but eventually…

Snape's hands, even stained with potions; Harry saw them in his dreams curling around his cock, with Snape's voice whispering in his ear.  Just his name.  The nicest Snape had ever been.  Once he'd seen Snape above him, his face calm, like it was now when he was researching, and his eyes intense.  That had been a pleasant dream.

Harry had never thought a dream starring Snape could be pleasant.

Licking his lips, he pushed the door open a little more, and stepped inside.  If he was lucky, he'd be able to stand there for a minute and watch Snape work.  More features that Harry would memorise and add to his dream repertoire.  He was most definitely in lust.

Though the first signs of affection for the snarky bastard were there too.

Harry had made a habit out of watching Snape.  In class.  At meetings.  During detention.  During private tuition.  He never stopped.  And while he was adding things to dream about, he was slowly learning things too.

Remus, while not a friend per se, was a close comrade in arms.  Albus was always treated with the added layer of respect, and to a point caring, that Harry would think of treating a grandfather with.  Malfoy was, as Harry always figured, treated as a favoured nephew.  Even if Malfoy wasn't all that bad -- he had, after all, blocked that curse from hitting him -- he still shouldn't be favoured.

Sirius… Snape hated Sirius.  Made that perfectly clear, but in some instances he did listen to what Sirius had to say.  Even if, more often then not, he immediately refuted it - and then told him what an idiot he was.

Snape was a confusing, fascinating man.  A puzzle.  And he was someone Harry shouldn't get to know.  So Harry decided that he'd like to get to know him.

"Potter, do stop staring off into space.  I trust you've brought the dictionary I requested?"

Harry nodded.

"Well then, I'm sure you have heard what this detention consists of.  I do not care what words you use, I assure you that I have heard them all before.  Begin."

"Yes, Professor."

His fingers clutched around the fat spine, Harry moved to stand in front of Snape's desk.  He only hoped that Hermione's charm for marking the pages in order worked.  She'd probably given him a faulty charm when he told her that he was going to pick his words ahead of time so he could bother Snape.

Ron had thought his plan brilliant.  But then Ron would, as long as he thought the words chosen were to embarrass and ridicule.  Not quite the case.  Harry grimaced.

"Tabby:  a cat with a striped or brindled coat.  I had a babysitter growing up who had lots of cats, some of which were tabbies.  Sun:  the star that is the central body of the solar system, around which the planets revolve."  Harry sighed.  He bet that Snape liked this detention so much because it had the potential to bore his students to death.  "Quidditch becomes increasingly difficult to play when the sun is shining in your eyes."

Snape wasn't even listening.  He was scratching at his parchment with his quill, ignoring Harry.

"Private:  belonging to some particular person or persons."  Harry shrugged.  "I always wondered what it'd be like to be someone's private property."

Snape's eyes flickered up from the table for a brief moment, and Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Taste:  to have a particular flavour.  I bet you taste like the potions you brew."  

Snape was ignoring him again.

"Lick:  to pass the tongue over the surface of.  It is always wise to start with licking--"

Snape glared.

"--when eating ice cream, Professor."  Harry smirked in return.  "Study:  application of the mind to the acquisition of knowledge, as by reading, investigation, or reflection.   It's much more important to study potions than to think about snogging."

Snape snorted, but didn't look up.  Probably thought Harry was being smart, which he was.

"Homework:  schoolwork assigned to be done outside the classroom.  Potions would be more interesting if my homework consisted of studying you."  Harry drew in a deep breath and held it, waiting for a reaction, any reaction.

Snape didn't look up at him, but his quill paused for a moment.  That could possibly be a good sign.

"Habiliments:  clothes worn in a particular profession, way of life.  Hermione said that your robes are the standard habiliments for school masters.  I think you'd look better without them on at all."

Snape snapped his quill down.  "Potter, that was two sentences and the word wasn't even used in the second."  His eyes only flickered to Harry once.

"Sorry, professor, won't happen again.  Kiss:  to join lips as in affection or love.  I've always wondered what it would be like to be kissed by someone who sees the real me."  Harry turned his face down and flipped to the next word without looking up.  He could feel his face getting hot and thought that maybe this idea of his had been rather stupid.

But he didn't want to give up.  The worst that could happen was that Snape would laugh at him and send him off to the Tower with less points than Gryffindor had had at the beginning of his detention.

"Seduction:  the act or an instance of seducing, especially sexually.  Seduction is a tricky business."  Without pausing he flipped to the next definition.  "Process:  a systematic series of actions directed to some end.  "It's a process that I'm sure I've screwed up tonight."

Licking his dry lips, Harry glanced at Snape.  He wasn't writing anymore, but his head was still bent over the scroll.  His finger wasn't moving over the words, however.

"Show:  to prove or demonstrate.  Sometimes an individual will do something stupid to show someone their feelings.  Live:  to remain alive.  I guess I'll just have to live the rest of my life without knowing your taste."

Harry knew he was being an idiot, but couldn't stop himself.  He couldn't even look at Snape to see if he was even listening.  Or if he even cared.

This whole plan of his was going to backfire.

"Habile:  skilful or dexterous.  I've noticed how habile your hands are, and I think this is a bloody awful sentence, but it fits the definition."

"It is a bloody awful sentence, Potter."

Blanching, Harry turned the page harder then he should have, ripping it.  "Lust."  Snape was going to kill him.  "To have a passionate yearning or desire.  I, uh, I…"

"Let me guess.  You lust after some Quidditch professional."

Harry looked up.  Snape was staring at him through lidded eyes.  The only time he stared at Harry like that was when he was in trouble.  Though the rest of Snape's body language didn't scream trouble.  Maybe…

No.  "No!  I, uh, I lust after the professor who haunts my dreams."  Not quite what he had originally intended, but it worked.

"I see."

Before Snape could stop him, Harry continued with the next word.  "Sincere:  without pretence or deceit.  My words have been sincere."

"Stop, Potter."

The night had been an unmitigated disaster.  Pouring himself a snifter of brandy, Severus collapsed into his chair, and stared at the fire in the grate.  There was always a fire in his rooms.

His dungeons were a cold place.  Lonely as well, if he had to be honest with himself.

That must have been why he'd been tempted by Potter-- Harry-- Potter.

He should have made sure the boy had left when dismissed.  He shouldn't have let him circle his desk.  And he most definitely shouldn't have let him kiss him.

As much as Severus would like to think that he hadn't known what was going on with Potter during that detention, he did know.  There were signs.  How nervous he was, how he couldn't meet his eyes, how he looked completely determined after Severus had told him to leave…

How he didn't leave.

Potter had gone around the desk and fallen to his knees in front of Snape before he had a chance to move and pull the brat out by his ear.  Looking down at Harry's upturned face, he saw something he wanted, but knew he was too old to have.

He wondered…

Severus hadn't thought of Tyler for years.  It was ironic that this boy with the same scar and the same eyes had cornered him in the same position he'd cornered his professor all those years ago.

The scar and the eyes were the extent of the similarities though.  Tyler had been a man, not a boy.  Harry, however, wasn't really a boy.  He was at that awkward stage between boy and man that Severus remembered so well.  He'd made a fool of himself enough that year.

And he hadn't just thought of Potter as Harry.

He sighed and covered his eyes with one hand.  The too-sweet taste of Potter's chocolate-and-pumpkin-juice flavoured kiss was still there.  Reminding him that he hadn't pushed the boy away, but had instead grabbed his arms and pulled him closer until a semblance of common sense reappeared and he pushed Potter as far away as he could.

Severus was damned.

At least Potter wasn't foolish enough to utter platitudes of eternal devotion and love.  Love doesn't exist at sixteen.

Severus had discovered that the hard way.

Chapter Six:  After effects

*The Past *

When the door slammed open, Severus looked up from the book he was reading.  It seemed that Harry had already reverted back to his undesirable habits in the two months he hadn't seen him.  Making a note to have a word with Harry about pounding around like a herd of hippogriffs, he set the book down, but Harry stormed past him, waving his hand at the door and slamming it.

Without a word, Severus stood up and followed Harry through the sitting room, stopping in the doorway to the bedroom.

Harry was there ripping at the buttons of his robe and tearing his shirt over the top of his head, all the while grumbling something so softly that Severus couldn't make it out.

He hadn't seen Harry this upset since he'd worked at the Ministry and came home cursing Fudge every night.

Something must have been gone terribly wrong.

Never a better time for a bit of humour, in Severus's opinion.

"Professor Tyler?"

Harry stiffened.  "Mr Snape, I believe I requested that you vacate my classroom, not follow me to my private chambers.  Get out, or I will tell your Head of House."

Eyes narrowed, Severus paused, trying to figure out when exactly he had shown up.  The only conclusion he could come to was the evening of one of his detentions with Tyler.  Most likely the pink-coloured chalk detention, if Harry's discomfiture was anything to go by.

Severus had hated that chalk.

Toeing off his shoes, Severus walked across the floor, and went to stand behind Harry.  He settled one hand on his hip and with his other traced the snake and watched as it calmed down from its previous agitation.  

His head bent close to Harry's ear, Severus breathed, "but, Professor Tyler--"

"I said go awa--" Harry spun around.  "Severus, you arse!"  Rubbing his forehead, he glared and stepped back.

Severus let him have the small measure of space.  "What, no welcoming kiss?"  He smirked as Harry's eyes narrowed further.

"I'm in no mood to deal with your sadistic sense of humour."

Running his thumb along his fingertips, Severus stood quietly and watched Harry.  Part of him was pleased that he'd had some sort of effect on his professor while he'd been at school.  Another part of him was quite annoyed by that same fact.  Harry should be beyond the point of being flustered because of schoolboy crushes.

But he hadn't been beyond them either when Harry had approached him, Severus reminded himself.  Coming to a decision, Severus spun on his heel and retreated back to where he had been sitting.  He could sense Harry following him, the air almost crackling with Harry's confused emotions as he wondered what Severus was doing.

The look of shock he received when he turned, hand outstretched offering a snifter of brandy, was smothered and replaced with one of understanding as Harry took a sip.

"Trying to placate my temper, Severus?  I thought you knew by now alcohol has the opposite effect."

Severus lifted one shoulder in a small shrug and took a swallow of his own.  "You deserve something decent after dealing with complete dunderheads day after day."

Harry raised an eyebrow.  "Including yourself?"

"I assure you that on this particular evening, my sixteen year old self was indeed a dunderhead.  However, should you repeat that to anyone, this time or ours, I shall have to…"  Harry's shoulders were shaking as he tried to keep signs of his mirth from bubbling over.  "Mr Potter."

Harry snickered and quickly turned and walked back to the bedroom, shucking the last of his clothing as he went.

"Impertinent brat.  Do not walk away from me while I am--"

"Scolding me?"  Harry tossed the words over his shoulder as he rooted through a drawer.

Folding his arms over his chest, Severus refused to agree and scowled as he watched Harry's search.  The brat still had no idea of which drawer anything was in and probably wouldn't until shortly before he had to leave.  It was no wonder Harry hated moving, though he had done enough of it in the past.

Severus let his eyes wander over the planes of Harry's body, pausing to admire the curve of spine and backside, the innocent tilt of his head (even though innocent was not a term Severus would apply to Harry any longer if, in fact, he had ever used such a term in regards to Harry), and even the mess of hair on top of his head.  "Do you even know what you are looking for?"  Severus went to stand behind him and smoothed a hand down his back before letting it rest on Harry's hip where his fingers clenched.  Harry was his.

"No."  Harry slammed the drawer shut and tugged at Severus's hand until it was resting flat against his stomach.  Harry leaned his head back against Severus's shoulder.

Running his chin along the top of Harry's head, Severus breathed in deeply.  Lately his rooms had started smelling more of potion ingredients and less of Harry.  Granted, it hadn't been as long as he was missing from Harry's life, but for someone who relied on his sense of smell, the change had been a disturbing one.

"You're in a right snit.  Perhaps I should just go?"  A truly idle threat and Severus was sure Harry knew that.

"You could."  But even as the words left his mouth Harry entwined their fingers.  "Or you could stay."  He sighed, shifting back and pressing closer.  The hand not caught in Severus's reached up and back to settle on his shoulder, his fingers brushing his neck.  "I'd rather you stay, Sev."

"Hm."  Severus lifted his hand to pull the fingers that had tangled in the stands of hair at his neck away.  Keeping a grip on Harry's wrist Severus moved to stand in front if him.  "I didn't think you appreciated intelligent conversation."

"I can.  On occasion.  If I try really hard."  Tilting his head back, Harry looked up at him, smirking.  Severus had always distinctly liked the height advantage he had over his Harry.  Reaching out, he ran a thumb over Harry's bottom lip and watched as Harry closed his eyes.  His.

"I suppose I could take pity on you and devise something else to occupy our time."

"Mm.  I wouldn't mind that."  And then Harry flinched, twisting his head away and drawing Severus's attention away from his lips, and to the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

Severus took a step forward, forcing Harry to take one back.  He continued pushing Harry until the back of Harry's knees hit the bed and Harry fell onto it, sitting.

"First things first.  Turn over."

Harry snickered.  "Sounds out of order to me."

"Do not be impertinent."

"Yes, Sev.  I do try not to be impertinent.  Sometimes."  But Harry rolled over onto his stomach without further comment.  Severus pulled some small vials out of one pocket and set them aside before he rolled up his sleeves and settled on the bed next to Harry.  Harry, for his part, had turned his head to look at Severus through hooded eyes as he took off his boots and set them against the frame of the bed.  "Ever neat, Severus.  How do you live with me?"

"With great difficulty, I assure you."  Kneeling on the bed, he moved to straddle Harry's hips.  Pouring a measure of oil from one of the vials onto his hands, he rubbed them briskly to warm it before setting his hands on Harry's shoulders.  He lowered his head until he could whisper in Harry's ear, "Not, however, because of your slovenly habits.  You can be quite orderly when you attempt to be, Harry."

Harry's response was a low groan as Severus's fingers dug into the taut muscles, urging them to loosen with firm pressure and soft strokes.  "Mm.  To the right, just a bit, plea-- ah!"

Severus could hear the grimace in Harry's voice as he hit the knot of tension and pressed down, but he continued his self-appointed task, and eventually could feel Harry's muscles relax under his ministrations.  His hands moved lower, rubbing oil into Harry's middle and lower back, working on the muscles that hadn't been quite as tense as the ones in Harry's upper back.  A soft snuffling sound drew Severus's attention and he leaned over. Harry's eyes were closed and his breathing had evened even out.

With a quick slap against one round buttock, Severus managed to wake Harry from his light doze.  Harry jerked up under him and mumbled that he was not asleep and that there was no excuse for Severus to do that.

"There is always an excuse for punishment in your case.  I just don't always need to find the reason prior to administering it."  Severus smirked and traced his finger down Harry's back and down the cleft of Harry's arse.  The sharp intake of breath was hard to miss, as was Harry pushing up against his finger.

Severus's stomach clenched and he moved off Harry to stretch out next to him.  He hadn't received a proper welcoming and had no intention of carrying things further without one.

Rolling over onto his side, Harry looked at Severus, the question obvious in his eyes, but quickly answered as Severus lowered his head to claim Harry's lips.  They were his along with the rest of him, Severus reminded himself with pleasure.  He loved every nuance of taste, from the intoxicating flavour of the brandy they'd share, to the chocolate that Harry must have snuck from somewhere, to the hint of berries covered by all the rest.  And under all that was the taste of Harry.  He'd never had succeeded in getting enough of it since that first taste years ago.  Severus's tongue toyed with Harry's, drawing it into his own mouth, and the kiss deepened further.  He caught Harry's sigh and held it in the timeless space that was their kiss.

Severus pressed him back into the mattress, never breaking the kiss.   Harry's hands were clenching in the fabric of his shirt threatening to rend the material, but Severus ignored it and cradled Harry's face in his hands, wayward strands of hair teasing his fingers with ghostlike brushes as his mouth moved over Harry's.

Breaking the kiss with a groan of his own, Severus rested his forehead against Harry's for a moment regaining any composure he had left, which he was sure wasn't much at all.

"That is how you properly greet a lover you haven't seen for some time, Harry."

"Ah.  Suppose I should file that information away somewhere so I don't forget it."

"These lessons aren't for my own edification."

"Course not," Harry chuckled.

As usual Harry's hands couldn't stay idle, and Severus felt them sliding under the fabric of his shirt, running along his sides and chest, pressing harder in some spots and sliding softly over others.  Knowing his body