DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to own Harry Potter, I don't. As much as would have LOVED it for Ms. J.K. Rowling to place both Gryffindor and Slytherin men together, she had not. No, in all the conspiracy of things, I have done what others have also and nabbed Ms. J.K. Rowling's characters and is now in the process of making them do what I want them to do...or..trying to at least. It is a very hard task indeed to ask much of a dead man, you know. Very hard.

At that, I leave you with this story, terrible as I might say. A short beginning to what's coming. This is a first attempt at...anything really. Wouldn't be too surprised on how little it'll get out there.

THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY

The winds' strength caught up in his billowing robes, making them flap loudly as they whipped back and forth behind him. Stubbornly, Harry wiped away the oncoming tears behidn his glasses, not wanting to spend another day dawdling on the past, and wiping the tear-stained glasses of his. Severus Snape had been innocent. All those years torturing Harry by taking house points, admitting him into detention one after the other, causing him, Harry Potter, to lose his cool on even the smallest of things. At that, Harry had to smile and even allowed a single tear to plop from his chin. All that time, and when death had come between them, only then did they see eye to eye; well, Snape had wanted to just see his mother's eyes. That hurt him in a way he couldn't yet understand. Nevertheless, that moment had been the longest in his lifetime; time stilling just for a breath or two so in that instance they were alone, facing one another. Nothing to say but stare into each other's eyes. And when Harry had gone to the Pensieve with Snape's memories…

I wish I could have saved you. At least you…at least…

Harry swiveled on his feet and turned to walk out of the shack, making his way back to the castle. His children had been left to the Weasley's for only a small amount of time and so he had to hurry and do what he had to do. He didn't like leaving responsibilities that were his own to other people, but he had come here not to reminiscent so he cursed inwardly at being diverted from the actual course. However, Harry couldn't find himself to object going to the death place of..

Severus…

Harry smirked, knowing that if the git had been alive this day and caught him saying his name, the hexes and curses flown his way…

"Potter," came a light-hearted voice, deemed with authority.

Harry glanced up, his mouth forming a natural grin at the person.

"Professor McGonagall!"

She stood before him, aged, though the lines showed hardly any defeat, but pure creases of her steadfast pasts. She was adorn with the same design of her high-collared robes back in his school days, instead of black, they were a light blue, almost silvery in the small light the setting sun offered. Looking closely at the material, it seemed to shimmer. Fascinated, Harry turned his attentions back to her, nodding as she opened a palm of invitation into the Entrance Hall.

Harry followed his previous Transfiguration, and Head of House professor, looking all around. It was the holidays so not many students inhabited in the area. Those who stayed back and got a chance to glimpse the Saviour of the World, broke out into whispers as the two figures passed by. Harry, even through all these years, still grimaced at the action. Quickly, he caught up to McGonagall's long strides, swallowing the bitter taste of nostalgia. Everywhere they turned, climbed, strode brought back memories; the entrance to the dungeons causing the most burn in his heart. He had been away from the castle for too long, ever since he had became an Auror, which was roughly around the time when the battle ended. Then Ginny…another burn came to his heart, this time staying to wrench at the collapsing muscle. Harry had to bite hard on his lower lip to cause another unneeded tearfall.

After what seemed like a century, they stood in front of the famous gargoyle statue glaring at the both of them.

"Mimpus Coompus," Professor McGonagall uttered and the gargoyle obliged allowing them onto the moving staircase which headed up to the Headmistress' quarters.

They were once Professor Dumbledore's, Harry sadly recollected, shoving that memory back into its place at the far back of his mind. Thinking about the late Headmaster made him think of why he wasn't there anymore, and ending up to thinking about Snape which of course brings back the shack and Snape's memories. And they all meant deaths which included… to go back in time and maybe- Harry paused on a step while entering into the office, his breath caught in his throat. There was a way! But, no, it would be absurd as all the other Time Turners had been destroyed by the ministry. Or had they?

"Mr. Potter?" Harry rose his eye from the wooden flooring and had to catch his breath before offering a small smile of reassurance to the now worried looks he was getting from his ex-teacher. He sat himself in the chair before her, wiggling into a comfortable spot making sure as to not seem so castaway in his thoughts.

Minerva, after another brief glance in the boy's direction to assure he was now paying attention, finally sat in her chair, coaxing over some books and papers from outside into the office onto her desk. She rummaged for a bit while Harry contemplated on an actual Time Turner still being in existence. It could quite possibly work.

Or you're just being a complete imbecile and dunderhead.

After all these years, why did he only think about going back into time now? It must have been because of being back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He cast his eyes about the room, drinking in the difference, or more lack thereof, in the room. Professor McGonagall had kept it nearly the same as the late Headmaster's design, just the slight change of curtains and the missing pedestal where Albus Dumbledore's phoenix once perched. Anything else was hardly unrecognizable. The shuffling and small grunt of unappreciation coming from McGonagall's direction got Harry's attention back to the present. His mind had been slipping for far too much today.

Shifting uncomfortably in the lush chair, McGonagall finally acknowledged him by placing several papers in front of him she had been rearranging since the beginning. Harry pushed up his glasses from the bridge of his nose, adjusted his sitting position by scooting more towards the edge of the chair, and began picking through the parchments.

"Take your time," she murmured softly as Harry's eyes darted over all the letterings, the words not really coming into much play. "It's been only but two years since Ginny's," Minerva paused, lips pursed, daring herself to keep going. The ashen look now displayed fully on Potter's face made it harder to do so. "Since Ginny's passing, but she did want to do this. You will think it over?"

Harry hid his face this time, bringing the request papers above his forehead so that any stubborn tears that fell would go possibly unseen. "Yeah," he croaked. "Will do." He got up then, tapping the edges of the stack to straighten them before giving a small nod of his head to the Headmistress. She only peered at him through pitiful eyes. He hated that.

"Take care of yourself, Potter. You and your children."

Harry only nodded, a smile hardly evident on his features as he tried to choke back the oncoming slaught of sadness welling up in him.

Children. Ginny's and his children. Children who will never see their mother again as they turn from infants into grown pre-teens.

Once clear from the office, Harry made his way down to the dungeons. He had been in the Gryffindor Tower earlier that day to see if anything had changed, though once taking a glance outside of the window, made his way swiftly outside to the shack. Nothing had changed. Nothing. And it took ever ounce of him from spilling out whatever breakfast he managed to get down.

These days, Harry hardly slept, always too preoccupied with work, or making sure James and Albus was in check, or cooing Lily's cries. She never cried when Ginny was around. The heartbreaking sensation took over him as he stood in front of the doors into this once Potion's class. He let everything spill then. The memories when he would dread going into the very room behind the doors, the sneers and cold comments from his Potion's teacher, the intoxicating smells that almost always manifested itself in the air, and the snide remarks Harry and his friends would get and retort back behind Snape's back.

Snape's lifeless body rocketed Harry's own as he sobbed horribly in the lone corridor, back against the doors, body dropping hopelessly to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his knees, the papers crumbling against the strain and cowered there, crying. If he had saved Snape's life, none of this would have happened. Ginny would have remained here at Hogwarts and not have a need to join the Auror group to defend whatever rights the Potions Master deserved. If…if…

If I could go back in time.

Again, the silly notion made a bubble in the hero's mind. But, from his point of view at the moment, it didn't seem so silly. He removed his glasses, cast a small cleaning spell as his glasses were tear-stained, and got up from the ground. His heart rammed heavily against his chest. Out of all the time in his life, he never thought how idiotic this idea seemed, though the adrenaline now pushing him to unfathomable limits only made it that much harder to restrain against it.

He could do it. First things first, pick up the boys and Lily.

He needed to be with them; kiss their foreheads, coax them to sleep, or wrestle on the boys' behalf (at this Harry couldn't help but smile, the glimmer of hope rising), and made sure they knew he loved them all. Each and every one of them. If Harry succeeded, he wouldn't be alone in placing the kids to bed. He wouldn't be…

You're a right selfish git, Harry. You know that, right?

But, he was already determined as he apparated to the Burrow, the parchment stack being crumpled in his grip. There wouldn't be any need for them.

If you succeeded.