A/N: For starters, just to make sure, I'm not getting any profit from doing this, it's only for my own, and hopefully for a few other's, pleasure. This will contain male/male pairing, so please, if it makes you uneasy, find another story to read.
A magnificent storm had been raviging a little village not far from London. The Ministry had been able to evacuate most of the villagers, for the eye of the storm had been concentrated on one particular house. All the buildings that were at least on a ten metre range from the house had been mostly unharmed - to be fair, only the yard and the hedge had been torn off and ripped away by the hurricane that kept surrounding the house.
No one knew what had caused said hurricane, and no one knew if there were any people inside the house when it came into existense. What was sure was that it must have been caused by an immensely powerful spell. Two weeks since it's appearance, and none of the experts who had come from all around the world had been able to get close enough to explore it more than that. The ministry had been very occupied trying to make up a cover story for the muggles about low pressure and high humidity on the area, while trying to get a grip of the truth. Which was pointless, of course, for it's creator was skilled enough to have made it almost impossible for anyone on the planet to make anything out of it, let alone calm it down. And the only person, who would have been able to do it, had been deceased for a good while. Or at least that was what the creator had been made to believe.
To understand present events, we have to start seven years ago. As all the magic stories, this one too begins in Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The great hall was packed full with tense first year students, eager teenagers, translucent ghosts and amusedly smiling teatchers. Only one face was grim: Severus Snape had been half aghast, half curious for the past few months, with the weight of this day on his shoulders. He had been counting the years for this, and now that it had finally come, he didn't know what to think.
With a frown he eyed the tremblinf first years. Right there, fourth from the left, he could see him. From behind he looked exactly like Severus could remember James looked on his first year. Unruly hair, slim figure. Severus grimaced: how could he look at this kid, how could he teatch him, when he reminded him so vividly of his arrogant and selfish father? He gritted in disdain and whatched the boy walk to the hat. A minute later, he was sitting in the Gryffindor table, just like his father years before him. Severus glowered him, picking on all the resemblance with this boy and his father, when suddenly the boy lifted his eyes and looked straight at Severus.
A strange feeling bolted in his stomach and he had to turn his gaze: those green, emerald eyes that were staring at him behind the round spectacles, were definitely not his father's. The likeness to his mother, the depth, the compassion, it was all in there: Severus realized it had felt as if it was Lily who was staring at him through the growd. This startled him so much that only when the dessert cake disappeared from his plate did he realised he had been staring at it the whole time without toutching it once. He listened to the school song and quickly fled after it. The classes started in the morning, and he had a few preparations to make - secondly, he didn't feel like seeing this boy, who made him feel such mixed feelings, any more than he had to.