Title:Sleeping Beauty
Rating:K+ (might possibly change)
Disclaimer:Harry Potter and all associated characters belong of course to Rowling and such. The poem used in the intro belongs to André Bjerke and is translated by me.
Warnings: This will be a SLASH story. In other words a romantic relationship between two males.

Notes: I actually began this story as an answer to a prompt at the LJ comm Snapeafterdh, but since I never managed to finish before the deadline I thought I'd post it here instead. WIP of course, since I just can't seem to manage to start something without making a huge project out of it.

Chapter I

Soon is all that your summer gave
blossomed away,
and your first young love
will never come again
until your garden's wild thorns
fade away.
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,
are you sleeping still?

- Sleeping Beauty, André Bjerke

I

Hogwarts has been at peace for nineteen years. The grass and flowers are covering the scorch marks once made by terrible curses, new walls have been built where old had fallen and trees are growing out of the ashes. The blood has finally been cleansed away. There are no physical remains of the terrible night that had ended so many lives. The only exception is one gigantic monument. It is carved in black stone, rising tall and imposing along the road leading up to the castle. Names are written there in shining silvery letters, names of people long dead, heroes lost in the last devastating war. If you follow the pathway leading away from the monument and walk down a slight hill you'll enter something that might remind of a graveyard. But there are no gravestones here, only plaques resting nicely in manicured grass, decorated with small flowers blowing gently in the wind.

Wandering between these plaques you will read the names of all the ones who spent their lives in the Battle of Hogwarts. Remus John Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevy, Severus Prince Snape and so many more. They're all there and they're all in peace.

Perhaps with only one exception.

People who knew him alive would not have been surprised, but all the young children wonder why Severus P. Snape's grave has no flowers and no grass. They wonder why they feel a strong desire to turn around and run every time they venture over with curiosity to explore. The rumour that the grave is cursed soon becomes common knowledge.

No one visits Severus P. Snape's grave because of this.

Nineteen years has passed and night covers Hogwart's grounds. An owl is flying low in the darkness, using her keen eyes to hunt down the rodents who dare to leave the cover of the forest. One little mouse is skilfully digging in the soil to find the most delicious seeds. It needs to be fat when winter comes; the autumn nights already carry with them the scent of frost. Just as it has found the juiciest seed and is about to set its teeth into it, a low rumble makes it freeze. No one but a mouse could have heard it, no one but the owl could have seen it. It rumbles again and the mouse drops its seed, its little heart beats furiously. There is something dangerous, but it cannot understand it. The earth rumbles and it falls dead to the ground.

Six feet underneath its prone body the myriads of insects flees. They're fleeing away from the coffin that still after nineteen years lies untouched by the elements. Another pulse spreads through the earth and the insects die. An owl falls. Further and further the pulse reaches and everything dies. Plants, animals and insects. The pulse becomes quicker, rhythmic and a gasping breath could have been heard if there had been someone left to hear it.

Black eyes open in the night; they stare unseeingly at the lid of a coffin. It breathes again. The blood pulses, reaching through the entire body as it awakens bit by bit. For each breath and each beat of its heart, something dies, until enough life has been devoured for the creature to slowly raise a hand and knock on the coffin lid.

The children had been away to school for over a month, but Harry was still not used to the silence of having just one daughter at home (regardless whether the daughter in question was both stubborn and loud-mouthed enough for five). Ginny used to comment on Harry spoiling Lily too much. Harry, of course, disagreed. Why was giving his youngest daughter whatever her pure little heart could desire, spoiling her?

On this particular evening it was quite rainy and cold, and Harry and Ginny were preparing to go to bed. Ginny bustled about in the kitchen cleaning the dishes that had been postponed since after dinner. Harry was busy brushing his teeth in the downstairs bathroom. Rock beat scissor, every time.
It had been a day like any other day. The auror department had been quiet, just as the entire wizarding community had been quiet the last two decades. A lot of readjustments had been done in the Ministry since the war, and truth be told, there wasn't much left to be done at all. Occasionally they might have to arrest a poor sod who had gotten his feet a bit too deep into the dark arts, but mostly there were just small breaches of the wizarding law that the other departments dealt with effectively and cleanly.

Spitting one last time in the sink Harry scrutinized himself in the mirror. He had seen the same face day out and day in for over thirty seven years and to him it hadn't changed at all. Perhaps his beard grew more evenly now and he had a few wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, but despite this he couldn't see any major differences. Harry knew of course that he must have changed, nineteen years is a long time after all, even for a wizard. But his eyes were still green, his hair still grew in uncontrollable directions and his nose was still as button like and immature as it always had been. Life kept on going.

Nineteen years since he needed to risk his life, nineteen years since he had to commit his first murder. He hadn't needed to play anymore live wizarding chess, babysit giants, run away from man-eating spiders or walk around in polyjuice disguise.

He hadn't spoken of this to anyone, but truth be told, Harry was bored.

A sudden knock on the front door broke the relative silence of the evening.

'I'll open it,' called Ginny. Harry frowned to himself at the late hour of the visitor and was about to put away his toothbrush when he heard Ginny's surprised scream. Pulling the bathroom door open in a rush, Harry sprinted down the hallway. Ginny was leaning against the stairs, clutching desperately at her chest in pure terror. The lack of charging death eaters made Harry confused as to what was causing her this distress; but finally he too saw the monster on the porch. He had to struggle not to scream himself.

A thin and tall humanoid creature stood on his doorstep, its breathing came in loud terrifying rasps. It was covered in a stained and dirtied cloth that once must have been white. Long black hair obscured its face, reaching past the creature's waist.

'Harry Potter,' it rasped, slowly looking up, black eyes meeting green, 'I have come.'

II

The voice might have been devoid of life, it might have been coming in nothing but ragged gasps, but it was a call from the grave. Harry was certain that his knees were going to give out on him and he reached for the wall for support. He knew that voice and there was nothing that could make him forget those eyes. He had stared into them as they died. There was no doubt that Severus Snape was standing on his doorstep, calling his name.

'Mommy? Daddy? What is going on?' questioned a sleepy voice from the top of the stairs.

'No…' whimpered Ginny in fear as Snape turned his head slowly towards the sound of Lily. 'Stay upstairs!' she called with a tint of hysteria in her voice. Finally she managed to force her muscles into animation and sprinted up the stairs. Harry automatically moved to stand between Snape and his family, blocking the way into the house. But Snape had already lost interest in Lily, and was staring at Harry again with his black, dead eyes.

'What are you?' asked Harry, glad his voice didn't waver. Snape didn't answer him, but raised a shaking hand to remove some of the long strands of hair covering his face. His hands were both covered in dirt and blood, several of the long yellowed nails had broken.

As if he had clawed his way out of a coffin Harry realized and took a step back in horror. But Snape seemed too preoccupied with his long tasselled beard to care whether Harry fainted out of fear right in front of him.

'Do you mind?' Snape suddenly asked, his voice still as raspy and hollow, 'I'm cold and quite tired after having dug through six feet of earth and then walked all the way here.'

Harry's jaw threatened to make a close encounter with the floor. Hastily he moved away from the door and watched in muted horror as Snape walked into the hallway.

'What are you doing, letting that thing into our house?' Ginny hissed, standing at the top of the stairs looking down at Snape who had found one of the hallway mirrors.

'I-it's Snape,' Harry stuttered as a way of explanation. Ginny ran down the last few steps of stairs and stood by Harry, watching Snape taking in the damage. He turned, stared at them, then at himself, and then back at them.

'How long?' he asked, his voice merely a whisper. Harry and Ginny looked at each other trying to silently plan a distraction and attack. 'Well?' Snape continued to prod. Even wearing filthy rags and sporting a beard reaching down to his waist Snape managed to look both imposing and impatient.

'You're supposed to be dead,' pointed Ginny out hesitantly, in case the knowledge would be startling to Snape, 'Voldemort killed you.'

He stared at them for a long while, making Harry's skin crawl unpleasantly on his scalp. He had been a member of the wizarding society for about twenty six years, and still he didn't know that the dead were able to rise from their graves. Not in their actual corporeal bodies, and if so, they'd be an inferi and would not be able to control their brain. Though Harry supposed that if there ever would be an inferi stubborn enough keep his mind, it would be Snape.

'I just want to know how many years have passed,' Snape eventually said, ignoring Ginny's comment about him being dead.

'Err… Nineteen years,' Harry looked at Ginny for confirmation, she nodded. 'Yeah, nineteen years.' Harry couldn't really discern much of Snape's face, but he could have sworn he'd just been given one of the looks reserved for the really dunderheaded students back in the days.

'Do you want a cup of tea?' Ginny suddenly asked, remembering that even though Snape was supposed to be dead, he was also their guest and it was rude not to invite your guests to a spot of tea. Especially if they had been digging through six feet of dirt and walked all the way from Scotland.

Snape nodded slowly, but then made a hand gesture indicating himself, 'may I borrow your bathroom?'

Harry was leading Snape down the corridor upstairs, carrying a set of towels, scissors, trousers, underwear and a comfortable sweater that he hoped Snape would like. Harry didn't know why it concerned him whether Snape liked his clothing or not. Snape, even though more alive now than previously thought, still walked with a stiff and death-like gait. He was, if possible, even thinner than before. The muscles had been waning and all his joints creaked warningly whenever he turned.

A door had suddenly opened behind them, and a little girl stood peering out at them. She was clutching her stuffed unicorn to her chest and her big, brown eyes rested on Snape. Snape stared back. Then Lily pointed demandingly, 'is that Father Christmas?' she asked. It was neither the season nor did the bearded man look much like Father Christmas at all, but it was the closest she could come to any mythical figure she knew.

'No Lily, this is not Father Christmas,' Harry tried to explain, 'he's… he's an old acquaintance, he's been travelling for a while you see. Now go back to bed.'

Lily nodded, slowly and unconvinced, at them before stepping back into her room and slamming the door shut. She was quite certain that she had managed to catch her dad sneaking Father Christmas about and just wasn't owning up to it. How stupid did he think she was?

'Lily?' Snape asked while Harry opened the bathroom door. He didn't answer at once, but occupied himself by placing the things he was carrying on the counter beside the sink.

'Yes,' he finally acknowledged, 'both Ginny and I thought it prudent.' When deciding Lily's name, Harry had never really considered having to excuse himself to Snape. He was glad both James and Al were safely at school.

Harry proceeded to explain that they mistakenly had switched the taps on the shower so the red was actually cold and the blue was actually hot, they had just never gotten around to fixing it. ("The shampoos and shower gels are in the cabinet there beside the shower, and if you want to be able to comb all that hair after the shower you better borrow Lily's conditioner. Sorry that it smells like pear and apple flowers. Oh and yes, the towels are over there, and this scrubber will help getting off some of the worst grime, it's really handy whenever the kids have been out playing in the dirt.") Harry felt he was blabbering to calm his rattled nerves.

In the kitchen Ginny was busy looking through the cupboards for the proper biscuits to serve with the tea. Her hands were shaking slightly.

'I could have sworn he was dead,' she said without turning around to face Harry who busied himself by refilling the sugar bowl. 'Do you think he has been alive in that coffin all these years?'

'No…' Harry answered grudgingly while he thought about it, 'wouldn't he have starved to death?'

'I suppose… Harry, where are those damned biscuits, I can't reach the top shelf.'

Snape had quite expertly managed to remove the long beard on his own, but his hair seemed to be posing a problem. Wisely he had not dared to cut it himself and it was full of tugs and knots, not that Harry really could blame him for that.

When Snape had finally come walking into the kitchen, desperately trying to untwine the brush from his hair, it surprised Harry to find that his clothing were actually a tiny bit too big for him. After a second, and a third and a fourth, look Harry came to the conclusion that Snape wasn't as tall and larger than life as he remembered him. Gone were the billowing cloak and the horrifying scowl, gone was all the authority he had had as a feared teacher back in school.

Now that they were at an age Harry saw that Snape was actually quite a delicate man with thin bones and perhaps no more than 5'7 feet to his name. Wearing Harry's clothes he seemed even less terrifying.

It might have been that Harry was older, maybe it was the nineteen years had passed since last they saw each other, or perhaps it was because Snape had been dead for all those years, but it was as if Harry was seeing Snape for the very first time. Snape hadn't aged a day since Voldemort had killed him and Harry wondered what magic it was that had managed to preserve him so well.

'Your daughter called me a dementor,' was the first thing Snape said as he entered the kitchen, 'and then she began questioning me about where I had put Father Christmas.' Sitting down in the chair opposite Harry he finally managed to tug loose the brush.

'Oh well,' coughed Harry slightly embarrassed, 'Lily is a bit caught up in magical creatures you see. At least you know what she's talking about, I've had enough phone calls from her teachers complaining about her throwing a fit every time they try to explain that dragons doesn't exist.'

Ginny had poured Snape a steaming cup of tea and was now wrestling the hair brush out of his hands. Harry couldn't decide whether Snape didn't want to let the brush go or if his fingers were still too frozen to obey his will. Ginny, being a mother to a ten year old girl who insisted on keeping her hair long, began working on Snape's hair without asking for permission. It looked painful and Harry winced together with Snape in sympathy.

'Why did you come here?' asked Harry after some consideration. He decided it was more polite than the more urgent "why are you alive?" which he found to be rather rude. Snape stared at him for a few seconds before he began slowly to move his mouth to form the correct words.

'I don't know,' Snape eventually answered. 'How was I even supposed to know you lived here?'

Snape was making an excellent point Harry realized. Having practically been gone from the world for two decades, it seemed impossible for Snape to know where Harry had currently been living.

'We'll just have to call Hermione tomorrow,' said Ginny as she was brushing Snape's hair away from his face. Harry couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at the idea of calling Hermione to solve yet another mystery. And of course they'd have to invite Ron too, and then things might just accelerate from there.

After having finished their tea and Snape had gotten a bit to eat, Harry showed him to the guest bedroom that Ted used to sleep in whenever he was over.

Never having been very good at changing linen, he found himself slightly embarrassed as he was twisting around in a sheet, having completely lost his way out. Eventually Snape had to ask him why he didn't just use his wand.

'Well, Ginny and I decided after we got kids that we wanted to live as close to muggle life as possible and after the war… well, it just becomes a habit to let the wand rest and do this manually.'

Snape gave a contemptuous snort and went to look out the window without offering Harry help.

'Godric's Hollow has changed,' he finally said while Harry wiped off some laborious sweat from his forehead. Joining Snape at the window, Harry came to understand what he meant. It had been during their wild chase after the Horcruxes that Harry had seen the village for the first time, and it had been a relatively small and quiet town then. Now it had expanded quite a bit, and had even gotten a Centrum to call its own.

'After the war there was a propaganda campaign lead by the Ministry encouraging witches and wizards to live in coexistence with muggles. Because of this, many of the previously small wizard and muggle towns exploded, Godric's Hollow being one of the most popular ones, because of its history and all.'

Snape nodded slowly. The sleek texture of his hair was untwining the queue, falling across Snapes face and obscuring it.

III

A terrible scream was heard across the house, awakening all the sleeping occupants.

'I want to wear the one with the pixies!' hollered Lily as Ginny tried to force on her a plain green sweater. Entering the kitchen Harry knew he had made a mistake, for it had become nothing less than a warzone. Eyeing a possible alliance, Lily managed to escape her mother's grip with a ten year old's unmatched speed and ran to hide behind her father's legs.

'Daddy, I wanna wear the one with the pixies! Tell mommy that I'm allowed to wear the one with the pixies.'

'Well, I can't see why she can't wear the one with the pixies,' Harry said trying to sound diplomatic. This earned him a victorious cheer from Lily and a reprimanding scowl from Ginny.

'You know very well why she can't wear that sweater Harry; it's for formal occasions only.'

'But daddy said I could wear it,' declared Lily and hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking each step with a jump.

Ginny threw the sweater down on one of the kitchen chairs, still glaring at Harry who started to feel slightly uncomfortable.

'It's just a sweater,' he defended himself. Because it was just a sweater and he felt it was unreasonable to start making a fuss about a little piece of fabric.

'It's not about the sweater,' Ginny grit out, 'it's about the fact that you always go against what I say and give her right in everything. She never listens to me anymore. If I ever give her an order she just runs to you and you completely undermine my authority.'

'Oh come on, not that again,' sighed Harry. They had this argument almost every day, and it was quickly giving him a headache now.

'Yes, that again!' said Ginny, 'it will be that again until you start working with me instead of against me!'

'Well… I feel you make a lot of noise about small things like a bloody sweater. I don't try to undermine your authority or whatever evil things you make up in your mind that I try to do to you. I am just being a parent here!'

'That's the problem, isn't it? You're trying to be a parent when in reality we are parents. Are you noticing the plural form there honey?'

Lily sat at the bottom step with the pixie sweater in her arms. She didn't really want to wear it anymore, not if it made mum so ridiculously angry with dad. The strange man who was neither Father Christmas nor a dementor came walking down the stairs, stopping at her step to look down at her. He was probably also hearing her parents arguing. It was a bit embarrassing, but Lily knew that all adults argued. They were allowed to, children were not, apparently.

'Mum doesn't want me to wear the sweater with pixies,' said Lily as a way of explanation and sighed. The strange man nodded in understanding. 'You have very long hair,' pointed Lily out and got up from her step, forgetting her sweater for a second. 'Can I touch it?'

The man looked a bit hesitant for a moment, but bent down slightly so that she might reach it easier. It smelled just like her hair, of pear and apple blossoms, but felt quite different. It was coarse and thick while hers was much softer and red like her mother's. 'I want just as long hair as you! How long did it take to save it?'

'Nineteen years,' the man answered, straightening his back again now that Lily was done touching his hair.

'Nineteen years?' Lily echoed heartbroken, she didn't want to wait nineteen years.

'Yes, and I am going to cut it,' answered the man.

'You can't cut it!' she exclaimed, 'it's so long, I bet it's even longer than Rapunzel's! If you cut it, how will your prince be able to climb up to take you away?'

The man's black eyes glittered curiously. Lily returned the smile.

'No Harry, I told you yesterday that I had an important meeting at the Ministry today, I won't be home until late this evening. You'll have to drive her to school.'

Mum and dad walked out into the hallway. They were still looking angry, but busy-angry.

'Look mum, I won't be wearing the pixie sweater just like you said,' said Lily diplomatically. She just wanted to see her mum smile once before leaving for work. But her mother acted like she always did whenever she was in a hurry.

'That's good Lily' she said and bent down to kiss her on the cheek, 'be a good girl today and draw me something nice at school.' And then she disappeared out the door, and Lily knew she would have something nasty for dinner since her father was making it.

'So… you have more kids?' asked the dark stranger. He had descended the last few steps and was scrutinizing the family photographs. He seemed particularly interested in the one they had taken last Easter. Lily had been allowed to wear her fairy wings on that picture, so she was quite proud of it.

'Yes, that is-… James,' said her dad and pointed at James, 'and that is… err… Albus.' Her da'ds reluctance puzzled Lily greatly. If she hadn't known better she would have said he seemed almost uncomfortable.

'Albus?' asked the man surprised and raised his eyebrows. 'He doesn't really seem like an Albus to me.' Lily agreed. She associated Albuses with sherbet lemons and things that twinkled excitedly. Al didn't really like sherbet lemons and none of his toys twinkled at all.

'His whole name is Albus Severus Potter,' explained Lily oddly proud. Again the man made an expression without changing his face. Lily could feel his shock.