AN: Thanks for reading!

One Year Later

A whole year as a girl, and despite our expansive library I can find no reason as to how it happened. I huffed and blew some of my bangs out of my face as I scowled down at the useless book.

"Little Miss?" A deep voice called from the door to the Snape's family household's library. Luckily there was a bookshelf blocking Nanny number 11s view of me. I quickly ducked behind the puffy chair I was sitting on, mentally wishing I had a wand to cast a disillusionment spell.

I had no desire to commit myself to- I checked my wristwatch for the time, 3:00pm- etiquette class. I would much rather concentrate on my books then on how to greet someone who you don't like without being rude. Apparently it's all with the eyes, I was a natural at it. At least that is is what my tutor says.

"Little Miss I know you are here." I scowled as the deep voice drawled out. I knew that beyond this chair was number 11, all dressed up in his idiotic suits. His brown hair was peppered with grey, his black eyes calculating behind his specs. He had the timeless quality that wizards seemed to have, pinpointing an age for him would be impossible. But I guessed in his late 60s. I haven't been able to get into Mum's potion room in the past three weeks, i think i am going through withdrawls. "I don't remember Miss Snape ever being afraid."

I rolled my eyes at his obvious manipulation. But still stood. Mostly because I was Severus Snape, and Severus Snape does not hide behind chairs and neither would Severance.

"Number 11. " I hissed. My arms crossing over my green dress (I was currently refusing to wear any other colour, just to spite my father who hates green. Plus it reminds me of my house, Slytherin) as I looked up, and up, into Number 11's face. Number 11 was tall and very intimidating. but not nearly as frightening as the Dark Lord (Then again, Number 11 doesn't pull out his wand and Crusio me when I anger him), so I kept this man's black eyed stare with my own as I climbed back onto the chair in the most un-ladylike why possible.

"Mrs Flounder informed me you didn't show up to class. A lady's etiquette is just as important as the lady's magic." I raised an eyebrow as he chastised me and threw a long black strand of my insufferable hair over my shoulder. I laid back in the chair, relaxing.

Idiotic Nanny Wizard number 11. He was supposed to be the best money can buy, according to my parents. Their last hope to turn their wayward child into a presentable young lady. And also the first wizard nanny. I felt a scowl tugging at my lips, if i hadn't lost control of my magic, i wouldn't even need a magical nanny.

I refused. I am not a girl. Well I am, but not on the inside. On the inside I'm 100% grown man. I refused to bow to their wishes, I am my own person. I would not grovel and beg to live my own way anymore, I will fight for it. I spent a lifetime groveling and begging in my past, and look how that turned out? So I really didn't like it when he cast a full body cast charm on me and picked me up. The bastard probably heard all about the last Nanny that picked me up. I may or may not have used wandless magic, consequently breaking his nose, and consequently getting Nanny number 11.

"when are you going to quit Number 11?" I growled out, breaking his precarious hold on me. I tried to squirm to get away but he just cast the spell once more.

"Never. Get used to me little Miss. I plan on being the one thing in your life that never changes." I scowled at his hissed words. Someone was on their last straw today, he didn't usually snap at me.

I know I have been acting childish. It's funny though, being aware of it hasn't stopped me. It's like this childish brain of mine has all these old memories of my old life, but it's still new so it acts out in disturbing ways. Like putting glue in number 11's toothbrush. Definitely not something a potion master would do, but I didn't even think of that till after it happened. My feelings over power my thoughts in this body, and mostly my thoughts are dark and disturbing. In the end I'm left with three facial expressions- glare, scowl, and pout.

Yes, I'm pouting right now.

I'm aware that Severus Snape doesn't pout, but my feelings don't really care about that. I'm upset that I haven't gotten my way, and I can't do anything about that. Ergo, the pouting. Severance Snape pouts.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously as soon as the spell wore off again, i didn't try to get out of his hold as I had noted we were going the opposite direction of my cursed playroom.

"Out. A child shouldn't be cooped up in this-this… house." Number 11 said that in a way that made me almost positive he knew more about the going ons of the home then he seemed to let on.

I was secretly pleased, so I didn't comment on the fact that I wasn't allowed out. I hadn't been out since nanny number four. We had a slight incident where I made my way to the police station and told them my father was abusive. My father of course had connections, so it was swept under the rug and I was gifted with a new nanny and new restrictions. Like a permanent place in the house till wizard school. But outside… I missed the freedom. In my past whenever I needed to leave the house, I could. If I needed to leave Hogwarts, I could. I could always leave the dark lord, I wouldn't get far, but I could leave. I missed being able to have a choice.

I was silent as he set me down in our living room. I stood still and looked up at him expectantly as he crouched and pulled out silver shoes that were hidden in his suit jacket's pocket. He grabbed my feet one by one and placed the shoes on. "We are going to apparate, have you ever done this with your mother?" His deep voice was serious and stern. I nodded once. It was a bald face lie, I had apparated before. But that was in my past. He slipped a pale coloured jacket on my shoulders and he knelt and buttoned me up. I tried to hold in my frown at him doing something I was capable of. It got on my nerves, but I didn't want to do anything that would have him resending his invitation of getting out of the house.

"Okay. Hold my hand." I grabbed his hand, my small grip dwarfed in his big calloused hold. "You ready?"

I nodded once more and then I was sucked through the small familiar hole that feels like claustrophobia in the extreme.

I opened my eyes slowly, trying to dispel the feeling of nausea. Number 11's face looked me over in concern, before determining that I wasn't going to throw up. I looked around in slight surprise, Diagon Alley. I was definitely never taken here as a child more than twice and that was just to get ingredients to replenish our potion making stock. Number 11's hand wrapped back around mine and he dragged me down the slightly busy cobblestone street for the mid afternoon on a sunny saturday of early august.

"Is there a certain place you would like to go?" Number 11' asked curiously as he walked slowly down the street.

I immediately perked up, and practically blurted out, "Books!" I coughed to try and regain my composure and then said as calmly as I could (while ignoring the slight smile of my nanny), "-I uh. I mean, I would like to go look at the books."

"Alright. Books it is then. I was sure you would rather go to… say a joke shop. Freshen up your dismal skills in pranking, but if you want to spend the whole day wasted in a boring old dusty book shop who am I to say anything." He shrugged, then smoothed down his fancy suit. Why would a nanny even wear a suit? I rolled my eyes as he blatantly tried to manipulate me. A first year Slytherin would have more success at getting me to admit that I hate the colour black then this nimwit has of trying to trick me into going into a joke shop. I ignored his obvious ploys, and dragged him into Flourish and Blotts. I immediately dropped his hand and began scouring the bookshelves for any mention of what had happened to me.

I may have accepted that this is my new reality, I might even be okay with it. It gives me chance to change the unwelcomed future. It may not be in the way I would have originally wanted to, but I will change it nonetheless. The only thing I have a problem with is the fact I don't know HOW it happened. I do not want to be doomed to live this existence for a third time, so I was left with one thing to do, research.

Number 11 dragged me away from the book store an hour later, complaining that a child needs to eat. I was not fooled. The man was bored to tears sitting in the store doing nothing but watching me be absorbed in books that no five year old should be able to read. At least he let me buy the book I was reading before dragging me off to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. I can honestly say I had only ever been in the brightly coloured room with Lily and my godson. Lily wanted to try Wizard ice cream and see if it was better than the muggles.

It was mostly the same, just more flavors and an inti- melting charm. Lily was disappointed. Draco, who wasn't allowed sweets, was not disappointed.

"So what's your favorite flavor, Miss Snape?" Number 11 asked cheerily, I glowered at the man as he ruffled his brown hair and scanned the sign with the dreadfully long list of different flavors. He frowned at the sign and then looked down at me expectantly. I sighed and tugged his hand into the small line. We waited patiently behind a boy and his father who were having a very serious debate on chocolate vs strawberry. I ignored the argument and pulled open the tomb I was looking at in the bookstore. Number 11 rose an eyebrow at the title of my book The Different Magical Belief Systems on Life After Death by Edna Tooly. Great, he was most likely going to hold an intervention on the basis that i liked to read dark books about death. I sighed (once more, just for effect) and began paging through the book, ignoring the incredulous stares i was getting.

"Hello? Um, hellllllooooooo? 'ello?" I sighed and dragged my eyes from the definition of rigor mortis and straight up into eyes that I could have done without seeing ever again.

JAMES POTTER my mind was screaming in anger, not surprising since the last time I saw the man alive he was taunting me. Like always. Of course he would be here. Why wouldn't he be? It's not like I didn't go through enough. Dying painfully after seven long years of saving this assholes dunderheaded son, only to walk into an ice cream parlor in my SECOND life and run across this- this- asshole. Given, he looks about as threatening as a baby, with his big hazel eyes hidden behind his idiotic spectacles and of course it wouldn't be a Potter if his hair wasn't the usual unruly dark brown. Somethings don't change.

"What?" I seethed. I felt a hand place itself on my shoulder and squeezed lightly. I hauled my glare upwards from the hazel eyes of Potters to meet Number 11's darker eyes. He was practically screaming in my head (if only legilimens allowed that ) to behave myself.

"Strawberry or chocolate? I like strawberry, I think it's the best in The Whole Wide World. Chocolate is so plain and boring, though it does taste good on strawberries. My mom says the only reason I loves strawberries so much is because it's my favorite colour. Red. It's my favorite. My name is James Potter by the way, this is my fath-." He is as conceited as I remember. No one actually thinks Strawberry is the best in the whole wide world, but of course only his opinion matters. Know it all gryffindor. I was saved from snarking out an answer to his obscenely long monologue as the line moved forward in the middle of his introduction and he was forced to order with his father who surprisingly didn't have the unruly mop of hair I had figured was a male hereditary trait as he was shockingly bald.

It was our turn next and I told Number 11 that I wanted a small plain chocolate ice cream as loud as I could, in the hope that Potter would hear. I grabbed the chocolate cone with one hand and went and sat down with my book at one of the many tables, I didn't look up to see if Number 11 had followed.

"Is that your dad? He doesn't look like you very much." I glanced up and saw the unruly mop and I let out a groan of pain. How is it that 5 year old Potter is more annoying than the one who stole the woman I loved? Ignoring the little demon wasn't working, maybe if I answered he would go away. I looked for number 11, and then glared when I found him chatting with Potter senior at the table across from us.

"He is my nanny," I said briskly. I died a bit inside as my plan went horribly wrong and he sat down next to me with his strawberry ice cream dripping messily down his hand. I felt disgust welling up in my body as I watched the light pink drops slide down his grubby little hands. How is it even melting? It has an ANTI MELTING charm placed on every cone. I know this because I had taken Draco to get ice cream here before and I made sure of this very fact. It was like watching a horror movie (I have seen a horror movie before) as the drip moved toward his brown slacks.

Potter laughed at that information. 5 years old isn't too young to murder, is it?

"A nanny?! Only babies have nannies. Doesn't your mom take care of you? Where is your dad?" Apparently the phrase 'ignore it and it will go away' does not apply to a chatty five year old, "Do you have any siblings? You still haven't told me your name. What are you reading? That looks super boring. It doesn't have pictures or anything? What's it about? Answeeeer me. Oh I see, it's a grown up book. Are you smart or something? Nerd. I only read books about quidditch, they have pictures. Is this book about quidditch?"

I was doing a successful job at ignoring the incessant questions with my head hidden in my book. I was calm and collected as he rattled on, until I saw a pink covered hand reach into my view. I stood suddenly, my chair scraping against the floor in my haste to get my new book away from the messy child. Book clutched tightly to my chest (in the off chance that he tries to touch my pages again), I leaned in close to the young Potter, my nose wrinkling in disgust as the smell of his melted strawberry ice cream wafted upwards.

"It is about death. Which is what you will be if you touch my things, Potter." I growled quietly, and then with a flip of my long hair I left the Ice cream shop without a glance backwards. I felt the hand of Number 11 as it pulled me to a stop. I looked up at the man, my anger still simmering just below the surface.

"You shouldn't run off without me, you could get lost or hurt. " He lectured as he pushed up his square glasses. I rolled my eyes, I wouldn't get lost and I would pity anyone who tried to come at me right now.

"I am ready to go home now." I remarked as I tightened my hold on my book and shrugged his hand off my shoulder. Memories are a funny thing. The spring up on you, and hit you with all the feelings, you felt. Leaving Potter, walking out… I did that alot in school, walking away. It never stopped them from tormenting me.

"You don't see a lot of children your age. Did you like your chat with the young mister Potter? I went to school with his dad, 'Course he was a fifth year when i started, but he was kind to me. " He recalled with a soft smile. I rolled my eyes, all Potters were in gryffindor. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if it turns out my Nanny was one as well.

"Take me home." I demanded, my hand wrapping itself on his coat sleeve. I didn't fancy running into Potter a second time today and considering we were standing in front of the Ice cream shop the likelihood of that happening increased by the second.

He seemed unsure, but grabbed my hand that was wrapped up in his jacket and apparated us home.