Summary: AU. Instead of dying, Severus' soul is sent to a place he thought impossible - into the body of himself in another world. It's a world free of Dark Lords and debts to Dumbledore, but it bears a catch: no magic. SSHP slash.
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: SS/HP (main); mentions of past SS/LE, HP/GW, and JP/LE; brief mentions of unrequited HP/DM
Warnings: swearing, slash, non-magic, brief mention of past abuse
Disclaimer: Still not with the owning.
Author's note: Back with a vengeance and beginning to feel like there is no way I can cover everything I mean to in only four parts. Five might not even be enough. And that business about under 20,000 words? Well, we'll see, but I just seem to write and write, so…who knows. But I'll do what I can, and I'll stop being so damn loquacious. Because I want to end this soon; I feel very little else needs to be said. After this chapter the pace will be picking up. The last thing I want to do is keep this going for longer than is necessary and then just end up jumping the shark in Part VIII or something like that. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed…you all make my day.

-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-

A Lesson in Patience

Part III

-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-

Severus took a week of sick leave, which was only prudent when one did not know the subjects he was meant to teach. And Severus was nothing if not prudent. Well, he thought, musing on his cock-up of a dinner date with Potter, most of the time. Other times he was, admittedly, an arsehole.

Potter was no doubt immensely relieved that Severus had begged off for the week, but it nevertheless caused quite a stir among his students. Much like Severus in the Wizarding World, the Professor Severus Snape of the Muggle World did not take sick leave. Ever. It was sort of like Severus rambling, or Severus being anxious: it was something that just was not done.

His students were aghast. Rumours flew with astonishing rapidity and ferocity -- everything from the notion that Severus was dying of some rare tropical disease to the idea that he'd been kidnapped at gunpoint. Severus only knew any of this because he'd finally figured out how to work that blasted box in his study -- the one with the screen and the long board of letters and numbers and all the wires and the constant inquiries flashing across his screen telling him that his resolution wasn't optimal and would he like to go to Control Options and revise it? -- and get onto the...interweb, was it?...and check his electronic mail.

In his inbox were countless messages from both colleagues and students alike, all asking essentially the same thing in more flowery language: 'where in the bloody hell did you go?'

Severus ignored the messages, mostly because he didn't know these people and certainly did not know how he was to respond. What sort of persona had Other Severus portrayed? What did these people expect him to say or do?

And then there was the matter of the computer itself. The box was frightening to say the least, and not just because although Severus knew it ran on electricity it seemed to work like magic. Flawed magic. The thrice-damned thing kept copping out on him. And Severus did not know any of his passwords. It took painstaking hours of ransacking the study, hoping against hope that he'd written them down somewhere. He had, and for once Severus thanked his Doppelganger's apparent lack of discretion in the matter of recording personal information.

He spent copious hours poring over the volumes in his study, as well, trying to get some grasp -- however tenuous -- on Chemistry, Physics, Biology, Biochemistry and Psychopharmacology. It was really too much. He tried to use a Retaining Charm here and there, in hopes that he could magically infuse himself with knowledge he'd only begun examining seventy-two hours prior. But even a Level VII Intensity Retaining Charm was no match for the plethora of knowledge he was meant to have; it overflowed and snapped like a twig.

And when he tried to force the memories of what he'd read behind his Occlumency Shield so as to access them later, he found them weakening and decaying the second he pulled them once again to the forefront. By Friday, he knew it was time to pay a visit to Harry Potter.

Each Physics class was split into three tracks: general, semi-advanced, and accelerated. Potter taught all three, Severus knew from the time-table he had saved in his 'School Files' folder on his desktop. Usually, however, he had some help from Severus; the two of them were on constant rotation, and one week Potter might take general and semi-advanced while Severus took accelerated but then the next week Severus had both semi-advanced and accelerated so that Potter could assist with the more mundane tasks: reorganising the labs, revising the curriculum, grading lab reports, and tutoring students on the general track who were facing difficulties in the course.

Upon realising all this, Severus began to feel something he hadn't in years: guilt. Though taking the week off had been the only thing to do, he'd left Potter with all three tracks for each of the seven year courses as well as all of the other less glorified business to take care of.

Severus supposed his other courses had been cancelled, as Potter could not teach Chemistry without destroying the lab, and Biology, Biochemistry, and Psychopharmacology were very much out of the boy's league. But still -- Potter had probably been pulling ten-hour days at the school and twenty-hour days in general just to get through all of it.

So it was with an unsettled feeling in his stomach that Severus showed up in the Physics lab at half-three on Friday afternoon. Potter was working one-on-one with a girl in pigtails -- a third year, by the look of it -- on a circular motion problem. She was listening raptly, almost to the point of mesmerisation, and she looked startled when Potter said kindly, "You get it? Here, why don't you try this one on your own and I'll give it a look when you've finished?"

She nodded as though Potter's suggestion was the most brilliant idea that she'd ever heard.

Merlin, Severus thought with disgust. Thirteen-year-old student crushes were really the worst sort of crushes. He preferred to think of students as asexual creatures without desires, and he detested when they refuted that, inadvertently or otherwise.

Potter left her to it and walked over to Severus, a tight and angry expression on his face. "What are you doing here, Professor?" he asked in a polite tone that belied his fury. "I thought you were still ill in bed."

"I seem to have made a full recovery," Severus said stiffly, pointedly ignoring Potter's unmistakeable mutter of 'most unfortunately.' "I figured I would pay you a visit and see how you were holding down the fort in my absence."

"Oh, things are grand, sir," Potter said pleasantly. "Simply grand."

"No problems, I trust?"

"Nothing for you to be worried about."

"Mr. Potter," Severus said with a sigh, tiring of the back-and-forth, "I did not come here for a battle of wills and thinly-veiled resentment." Severus noticed then that the third-year was looking over at them curiously. "Perhaps we could move this discussion to a more private setting?"

"All I can offer you is the corridor, sir," Potter said frankly. "I'm not leaving a tutoring session for you."

No, Severus supposed Potter wouldn't. He frowned. "The corridor. Are there students lingering about out there?"

"It's after 3 p.m., so I doubt it. Most likely we shan't be bothered."

"Very well, then," Severus said, "the corridor it is."

"Of course." Potter glanced back at the girl and said, "Ashley, I will be right back; I just have to talk to Professor Snape about some coursework."

Outside of the classroom, Severus looked at him incredulously. "You call your students by their first names?"

"Our students, technically; we both teach them," Potter corrected, "And yes, I do."

"That is sexual harassment claim waiting to happen," Severus hissed.

"Don't be so melodramatic. I've found students respond better to the use of first names over surnames. It's more familiar," Potter replied.

"It is inappropriate," Severus said.

"This cannot possibly be what you came to talk to me about," Potter said with a sigh.

Severus took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, it is not. I came to apologise, yet again -- "

Potter muttered, "Your apologies must not be worth much, sir, seeing as you dole them out as carelessly as sweets at a Halloween Feast."

Severus gritted his teeth; it would not do to strangle his T.A. with a student just inside the lab. And besides, if he killed Potter, Hogwarts would be down both its Sciences Professors, and then where would they be? "Nevertheless," he ground out, "they are most certainly warranted. And so, I extend this one to you." Deep breath. "I apologise, Mr. Potter, for my behaviour last week. It was undignified and most uncalled for."

Potter's hard glare softened a fraction as he said in response, "Yes. Not to mention utterly over the top." He sighed. "Then again, I did threaten to kill you, so, really, I suppose we're even on that point..."

"Quite. But what a man does in his own house is far more forgivable than what he does in a guest's." Severus examined his fingernails for lack of anything better to do. Then he looked up. "Do your light-hearted banter and threats on my person mean you accept the apology? I do not see that gun you spoke of anywhere."

"Don't be silly, sir," Potter said with a smirk, "I wouldn't bring the gun to school."

"No, I do not suppose you would." Severus paused. "Is there really a gun?"

Potter's face was unreadable again. "Do you really want me to answer that question, sir? Or are you only asking so that you can assure the police, later on, that you dutifully asked but I denied its existence, thereby keeping you ignorant until it was too late?"

Severus felt something uncoil itself hotly in his stomach. He cleared his throat. "So there is a gun," he hazarded. "Merlin, Potter, why?"

"Protection," Potter replied with a shrug.

"Protection from what?" Severus asked, admittedly a tad snidely. "We live in a decent enough neighbourhood."

Potter gave a rather elegant shrug. "I dunno, sir. I've had it for a long time now, since long before I moved here." He paused. "And again I say, this cannot possibly be what you came here to talk to me about..."

Severus sighed. "No," he murmured. "I suppose not." So how best to say this? "Potter...I..." Severus gritted his teeth. "I...know nothing about..."

"...anything, sir?" Potter finished snarkily, and Severus had to restrain his urge to throttle the brat.

"No!" Severus said with a snarl, but forced himself to calm down -- they'd only just made up; it would not do to get into yet another row only minutes after repairing the relationship. "No. I know nothing about...the subjects I am to teach. As such...Potter, I require...your...assistance."

Oh, that loathsome word again. Aid; assistance; support; they were all despicable, because they were all more flowery ways of saying, 'Help me,' and Severus Snape did not ask for help.

Then again, Severus Snape had not done a lot of things before last week. Rambling; being nervous; apologising to someone who wasn't Lily or the Headmaster; cooking for himself; taking time off; asking for help...Yes. Before meeting this cheeky, twenty-two-year-old assistant teacher physics genius extraordinaire, Severus had been in control. Before last week, Severus had been a Potions Master; a Potions Master about to die via Giant Snake Bite, but a Potions Master nonetheless. Now he was just a man with a magic wand, a tongue-in-cheek teaching assistant, and a life that was quickly unravelling at the seams.

Judging by the look of Potter, however, it was no different for him. Perhaps behind the polite voice and cheeky, half-hearted threats the bespectacled young man was just as confused as Severus was? Too much had changed, and much too quickly at that.

Why did Severus care? Had Potter changed him in this way as well? Perhaps it was time to test the waters yet again, and Potter seemed the overly forgiving type. Especially if the infuriating young man was in love with him. Severus cleared his throat, affecting his most neutral of expressions. "I would like to try that dinner meeting again," he said indifferently, "perhaps, this time, even without my physical assault on your person and your subsequent verbal assaults on my life."

Potter blinked before the smallest of smiles crossed his face. "Very well," he said cordially. "My place tonight. I assume you can find your own way home?"

"Yes, of course," Severus said, annoyed. "What do you think I am, an incompetent first-year?"

Potter gave another shrug and said, "No one here doubts your competence except for you, sir. See you at 8:30."

He slipped back inside to help Ashley (honestly, what was the boy doing calling the girl by her first name? This was a lawsuit masquerading as a tutoring session!) with her disturbingly morbid problem about "a 30kg child on a tilt-a-whirl spinning at a velocity of 10 m/s," until the child accidently lets go at "a point situated at an angle of 63-degrees below the horizontal" and flies off -- so, "in which direction will the child fly and what will his final velocity be?"

Severus wrinkled his nose; if all of Physics was this ludicrous, he was certainly glad he hadn't been born a Muggle.

-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-

"Honestly, sir," Potter said, letting Severus through the doorway and into the corridor, "are you hoping to catch me unawares by dropping by a quarter-hour early every time I invite you?"

Severus frowned to cover his discomfort at the impending admission: "Actually, Potter," he said swiftly, "I haven't a clock."

Potter was silent for a moment before replying hesitantly, "Actually, sir, you...do."

Severus was about to return with something cutting about how Potter should respect his betters and oh, how Severus longed for a time when children were seen but not heard, when he remembered that Potter was not a child. And then he realised the implication in Potter's sentence.

He demanded, "You've been in my house?!"

"Yes, but with your permission!" Potter shook his head in disbelief. "God, but you are paranoid! Really, sir, you act as though I broke in one night while you were asleep just to poke about looking for clocks!"

"I was thinking more along the lines of your breaking in whilst I was out," Severus said grimly. "I would almost take more comfort in the idea of you lurking in my house as I slept -- then your blundering noise would rouse me and I could come downstairs and deal with you accordingly."

But Potter seemed unperturbed by the threat of being 'dealt with.' "I do not lurk," he said with a smirk. "I pad delicately, like a leopard."

Severus was suddenly struck with a terrifying image of Potter's face superimposed on a leopard's body; the Potter-Leopard was smirking and saying something about running away from Severus' threats; "What is my final velocity, and in which direction will I run?"

Oh dear. Severus shook his head to clear it.

"The clock is in your kitchen, by the by," Potter said conversationally. "It's in the shape of a cat."

"You must be joking," Severus said with disgust.

"I assure you, I am not; it has a tail that swishes back and forth like a pendulum, and its eyes are huge and green and they dart from side to side in time with but in the opposite direction of the tail. It's striped -- black and white. Like a zebra. I thought you ought to know." Potter paused. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, how is it that you've been telling time without a clock, in addition to not carrying a watch or pocket watch?"

Severus frowned, still thinking about the monstrous clock that allegedly hung above his refrigerator. He wondered if anyone would mind if he took a hatchet to the thing. "There is a charm," he said finally, "that one can cast if he or she wishes to check the time but no apparent clock is available."

He pulled out his wand and Potter flinched. Severus frowned; had he really shaken Potter up that badly? It wasn't as though he'd cast the Cruciatus on the brat. But then again, one's first encounter with magic probably ought not to be as vindictive as Severus had made it. Potter's blatant display of weakness still annoyed him, though. Immensely. "Relax, Potter. Do not be so twitchy. I am merely going to demonstrate how wizards check the time; I am not about to turn you into something nasty."

Or something four-footed and pad-pawed. Like a leopard.

Severus gave his wand a flick. "Tempus," he murmured, and in midair the numbers '20:25' appeared in bright blue. Severus dispelled them with another wave of his wand.

Potter, apparently having recovered from his temporary shock, said curiously, "Military time...so that you don't have to differentiate between day and night, I suppose? But I should think it would be obvious - half-eight at night looks remarkably different from half-eight in the morning."

Severus inclined his head a fraction. "Very true. However, at certain times of year and certain times of day, it may not be quite so obvious. Sunrise and sunset look very similar to one who is not particularly observant -- or who has lost a few hours here or there for one reason or another -- and during the wintertime, when night falls earlier and morning breaks later, half-past-six in the A.M. may look remarkably similar to its evening counterpart."

Potter nodded, gesturing to Severus that he should sit down in the living room. Potter set about making them some tea, and silence befell them for a long moment.

And then they heard it: the first clash of thunder.

"Oh no; this always seems to happen at this time of year; unfortunately, the power lines are shit here so who knows how long the lights will last," Potter muttered, hurrying to finish the tea before the heavens opened up and sheets of rain poured down on the tiny house. The lights flickered and died, and Potter swore softly under his breath. "I should get a torch," he said, abandoning the tea.

"No, do not bother," Severus said. "Allow me. Lumos."

The kitchen and living room ignited with light from the wand and in its bright glow Severus could see that Potter had gone very still. It was a painstakingly long moment of silence before the young man said quietly, "I don't like magic very much, sir."

Severus felt a hot spark of annoyance at that, but quelled it as he remembered that he was here for a purpose, and it was not to get into another shouting match with Lily Potter's son. Instead he settled on saying, "Why is that, Mr. Potter?"

Apparently Severus had not been able to remove all of the gruffness from his tone, because Potter locked down and his face became blank. Severus had begun noticing a pattern over his past few encounters with the young man: Potter was polite and cordial, and did not control his facial expressions much except to keep them as benign and pleasant as possible. Until he was provoked, that was. When Potter was provoked, he went one of three ways: a) smirking, b) furious sneers that made even Severus nervous, and c) the method he was employing now -- complete lockdown. Severus despised that expression, because Potter was particularly difficult to get to when he shut off like that. And while Severus wasn't a fan of Potter making threats on his life, he was not a fan of a Potter he could not provoke, either. That sucked the fun out of everything.

Potter gave another of his elegant shrugs and said indifferently, "It just seems...I dunno...too easy."

"Easy?" Severus repeated sharply. He was taken aback; he'd expected the young man to say, 'I just don't think it's natural,' or 'The whole business scares me,' or some idiocy like that. But 'too easy?' What on earth was this?

"Well...yes." Potter brought over the tea and handed Severus a cuppa. "Like you aren't really solving anything. You're just putting a plaster over it for a while."

Severus frowned. "I do not follow," he said curtly.

Potter sighed. "It's just...I assume there are spells for virtually everything, yes?"

"Magic is very thorough," Severus said simply.

Potter nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "And I assume it's not just spellwork, either. There must be more to it, different components that when combined in just the right way make up the whole of Magic."

Severus narrowed his eyes, still unsure of where Potter was leading him. Which angered him, because Severus Snape was never unsure; he was always one step ahead of the game. Always. "There are other branches of Magic, yes," he said.

"And, really," Potter continued in a deceptively conversational tone, "I suppose it's a lot like my world, isn't it. I mean, we have medicines and chemistry and physics and mathematics and humanities and all that, so...you must have your versions as well."

"Potter, where is this going?" Severus snapped.

"All I'm saying, sir," Potter said calmly, "is that you lot have found a way to progress beyond us, haven't you. And in all the same arenas, too."

Ah. So that was what Potter was getting at. "Just because we have found more efficient methods of completing tasks does not mean we do not face set-backs of our own, Potter," Severus said curtly. "You make it sound as though we wave our wands and all of our problems disappear. I can assure you from personal experience that that simply is not true. Our world is just like yours -- there is suffering and evil and heartache. Magic cannot fix everything. It even seems to create more problems a great deal of the time. By introducing more power -- as well as faster, easier ways of acquiring it -- we create a perfect breeding ground for corruption and destruction. Madness. Torture beyond anything any Muggle -- that is to say, someone like you -- could ever think possible."

Potter leaned forward. "But that's just it, Professor," he said softly. "Magic cannot fix everything. You're looking to it for solutions you just won't find unless you make them yourself. There are so many things we learn as kids -- if there's a problem, we get it sorted ourselves; if we're drowning, what better time is there to learn to swim? We pull ourselves out of it. These magical...solutions! They're just quick fixes that don't actually treat the problem. It's like I said: just a plaster. A bandage on your society's problems."

"That is a wide-sweeping judgment," Severus said snidely. "Expound upon that comment."

Potter smiled, looking at his chipped mug. "By simplifying the little things, like keeping yourself dry with Water Repelling Charms or casting a spell to light a torch when the lights have gone out in a storm -- some silly rubbish like that -- you can take comfort in those smaller things and ignore the bigger issues in your lives. Or even worse, you might begin to take those things for granted...that your cloak will never get wet again, and you'll always have that torch no matter what."

He looked up at Severus once again, an unreadable expression on his face. "And you probably pity us -- Muggers, did you call us? Muggles? -- because we can't do what you do. But it's good, in a way: it forces us to try harder to progress, to rise up to meet you. And, more importantly, it forces us to accept the little things we can't change. Like getting wet, for example, or the lekky failing during a storm. For us, there is no 'quick-fix charm' so it's an inconvenience we learn to live with. We change the things we can and accept those we cannot, and just keep faith that the less than pleasant parts of our lives will pass. And they will. Things cannot possibly stay the same forever; the universe wasn't built to exist like that."

Potter placed the cup down on the table, never breaking eye contact, and said shyly, "We weren't built to exist like that."

Suddenly Severus was aware of how close there were sitting. He swallowed sharply, put his tea down, and twisted pointedly away. There was a tick more silence before Severus finally had the presence of mind to say, haughtily, "Then I suppose you want me to put this light out?"

Potter shrugged. "I would, but I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable; if it gives you comfort to have it lit, then you should have it lit."

Severus snorted. "This is your house, Potter," he said sarcastically, "and as such what gives me comfort is really of little importance. Enforce some damn rules, gypsy boy."

Potter snorted. "Gypsy boy?" he repeated.

"Yes. Gypsy boy. I stand by it." Severus frowned again. This playful banter was too much like his with Lily when they were young; it was unsettling, to say the least. "You are all over the place -- too calm, then too excited -- no hard rules -- suggesting that we lounge about in the dark and admire the thunderstorm -- and don't even get me started on the fact that I've never seen you eat meat -- "

Potter considered this. "I'm sure there are some carnivorous gypsies out there, sir," he said logically.

"There are none," Severus replied.

"You've met every single gypsy in the entire world?" Potter looked sceptical.

"Yes. Every single one."

Potter sighed. "You know sir," he said coyly, "Gypsies are a real people. They've a science and a doctrine and a method to their lifestyle, and I doubt they'd take very kindly to your gross generalisations about their existence..." Another graceful shrug. "You should respect other cultures...other beliefs. You shouldn't knock something until you've tried it?"

"Manipulative beast!" Severus bit out, but there was not nearly enough heat in it. There was another moment of tense silence before Severus swore colourfully and Nox'd his wandlight. Merlin help him! The blasted young man made him do things he never would have otherwise! If not for the fact that Severus required the man's help, he would have been out of that house faster than he could say 'Disapparate.' Even in the dark, Severus could tell the infuriating man was grinning.

"Thanks, sir," Potter said, and he sounded like he meant it.

"Do not mention it, Potter," Severus spat. "No. I am serious. Do not mention it to anyone, ever again."

Severus sensed Potter's grin widen. "Sir, no one would believe me if I tried," he replied, and Severus growled incomprehensibly in response. "You know, sir, it really is better this way," Potter added.

"How could it possibly be better?" Severus snapped. "And do not give me any of your cock-and-bull fantasies either. I am not a fan of intercourse with men, and I have no fantasies of ravishing you on this couch."

There was another bout of silence and Severus almost thought he'd hurt Potter's feelings until the younger man said dismissively, "No, no, nothing like that. It's better because -- well, look outside the next time the lightning hits. There's something perfect about it, what with the rain and the harsh movement of the branches in the wind -- it's just beautiful, in a way that a torch would ruin." He gestured to the window where they could see the storm raging outside. Lightning exploded in the sky like massive electrical explosions; deafening claps of thunder followed in their wake; and outside, the large trees that had looked so serene and steady when Severus had first arrived were being thrown back and forth in the tumultuous gusts of wind.

"I see nothing pleasant in this view," Severus said coldly.

"I know you're lying, sir."

And he was, because Potter was right: there was something beautiful about the way everything was being torn about, and how Severus could only see it when the lightning struck. When there was no lightning, everything else was submerged in a suffocating, inky blackness.

Severus merely grunted in reply.

"So...if you're here," Potter said thoughtfully, "where's my Severus Snape?"

Severus could not help: he snorted. "Your Severus Snape, Potter? Does the man know he belongs to you?"

"Not to...me...exactly..." Potter sounded very uncomfortable; his fiddling intensified. "But to my world, certainly. I'm just curious, is all. If you're here, where is he?"

Severus sighed. "Well, Potter," he said quietly, "usually how these things go is the way of a complete switch. So one may rightfully presume that if I am here in his body, he is likely in mine back in the Wizarding World."

"Do you think he's happy there?" Potter asked.

"Merlin, but you ask a lot of personal questions; one would think you were in love with the man."

Potter ignored that. "Come on, sir."

Severus relented. "Truth be told, Potter," he replied swiftly, "I do not think your beloved Professor is feeling much of anything there -- I should doubt very much that he is feeling happy, or sad, or tired, or any of the emotions one usually encounters in the day to day...In all honestly, I would wager that your Severus Snape is dead."

"Dead?" Potter yelped.

"Yes, and calm down," Severus muttered. "There is no need for such excitement. It's wearing."

Potter took a deep breath and asked more calmly, "What do you mean 'dead,' sir?"

"Exactly what I say. Dead. Deceased. Six feet under. Popped his clogs. Kicked the pail. Met his mak-- "

"Alright!" Potter said loudly. "I get it. But how? Were you meant to die in your world?"

"I was," Severus returned in a tone that stated he would give no more information.

There was more silence, broken only by the claps of thunder outside. This silence thing seemed to be happening a lot tonight. Finally Potter said ironically, "It's just as well, really. If he hadn't died in your world, he would have ended up working himself to death here."

Severus turned to look at him, making out the young man's silhouette. "You are joking," he said unquestioningly.

Potter shrugged. "Not really...He was always working. Non-stop. I know I put in a lot of hours every week, but he...he was something else entirely. All those classes. All that researching rubbish. The bureaucracy he had to wade through. He barely ever slept, and I'm sure the stress was damn-near killing him." A sigh. "All I'm saying is that if it isn't one thing, it's always another."

"You cannot possibly be so flip about the death of the man you -- " loved, Severus finished silently, but even while he didn't say it they both heard it anyway, and the uncomfortable silence fell again.

Potter made a noise that was something between a snort and an annoyed grunt. "I'm not, really. Flip, that is. I would never treat his death like that...as though I didn't care. Because I do," he said. "It's just...in some ways it's a relief to have him gone."

That made it sound so...melodramatic. So needlessly tragic, Severus mused, like something out of Romeo and Juliet. Severus felt a single eyebrow rise, oblivious to the fact that Potter could not see his sardonic expression. Muggle Severus Snape had quite obviously loved Potter back. And yet, Potter probably had no idea. He probably did not know about the locked drawer in the study, filled-to-bursting with his letters from all four years of university. Potter probably just assumed that Muggle Snape did not love him and never would.

Well, if that was the assumption they were going on, Severus would play along. He narrowed his eyes. "Why did you return to teach, caring for him so and knowing he would never return those feelings?"

"Sir," Potter said, shifting slight on the couch so as to face Severus better, even though they could not see one another, "Did you ever love someone really deeply -- such that you were madly, impossibly, tongue-tied in love -- and nothing and no one could take that away from you? And it didn't really matter that they'd never return your feelings, because just being beside them was worth more to you than anything at all...even self-preservation?"

Severus felt his throat go dry. "Yes," he said harshly, but his voice cracked on the word, rather ruining the effect.

"There's your answer then," Potter said softly, and he settled against the couch cushions, long lithe limbs tucked into himself like a child's. Severus wanted to destroy him then, this beautiful young man with Lily's eyes and Lily's smile and Lily's mannerisms...this peculiar man who was obviously brilliant but remained humble...who looked hopelessly delicate but had insight Severus himself did not possess. Potter had unsettled him so completely in such a short amount of time. Severus wanted to kill Potter for making him feel things he'd never felt before.

However, Severus clenched his fists until the feeling passed. And it did.

The silence that followed Potter's reply was more comfortable than the others that had preceded it. The tension melted away and Potter finally said, quietly, "You came here seeking 'assistance,' you said, but you never told me what with."

"We face a dilemma; you must have realised, Potter," Severus murmured. "I cannot possibly teach anymore..."

In the flash of lightning that lit up the room, Severus saw the boy quirk a smile. "I'd reckoned so, yeah," he replied. "But I just figured you'd take the semester off and I'd teach Physics for you, and we'd have Headmaster Dumbledore hire some people to cover your Chem, Bio, Biochem, and Psychopharmacology classes until you learned your stuff."

Severus snorted. "Don't be stupid, Potter. It takes years to master those subjects, even with Pensieves and Concentration Potions, and Retaining Charms and Occlumency. How am I to do this?"

The next burst of lightning saw Potter wrinkling his nose. "Well," the young man said reasonably, "I don't know what any of that Magic mumbo-jumbo you just spat at me is, but I will say this: no one ever said you had to be perfect about it. You just have to be solid enough so that you know more than the students you're meant to teach."

"Potter," Severus said, exasperated, "there is little point to teaching something if you cannot excel at it. You must know your subject completely and thoroughly. Inside and out. A teacher who does not know his subject is not teaching -- he is merely pontificating. I do not wish to pontificate, Potter, I wish to teach. If I do not know my subject, I shall not teach it. I should rather save myself the effort and embarrassment and simply refrain from disrespecting the art form so."

Potter was smirking again; Severus could just tell. "But sir, you will excel, because you cannot stand the idea of letting yourself fail. You just won't allow it to happen. Severus Snape does not fail."

But that argument was null and void, really, because Severus was beginning to wonder just what Severus Snape did and did not do anymore -- all his rules had gone out the window. He was sitting on the couch with Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake! In the dark in the middle of a thunderstorm! Talking about...feelings. How had this happened?

Potter was still talking. "And besides," he said, smirking, "I'm a great teacher. You said so yourself."

"I said no such thing; that was not me, remember?" Severus snapped. "And what is this business about you teaching me? I refuse to be taught like one of your asinine, love-struck third-year girls!"

Potter laughed. "There is nothing wrong with asinine, love-struck third-years, and there's nothing wrong with my teaching style either. Now you're just being bull-headed. "

"And you are being delusional," Severus sneered. "Potter, I swear to you, this will not work! I will not be taught. I refuse to be taught by you!"

"Oh, ye of little faith. I think it would be good for you, you know," Potter said. "No, really, I do! I've only known you a week now, but that's long enough for me to gather that you seem awfully set in your ways. My Severus was too." He laughed again. "But then again, so was I."

"Potter," Severus said again, teeth clenched, "this will not work. This cannot work. I do not know what philosophical drivel you are spouting about how you and your Severus 'taught' each other or 'expanded one another's minds' or whatever bollocks you seem to be preaching. Merlin, preserve me!" Severus sighed harshly. "For the last time, I am not your Severus and I never will be!"

"I know." Potter's body shifted slightly, and when the next burst of lightning struck Severus could see the man had repositioned himself so that he was looking at Severus head-on, a determined look on his handsome features. "Please, Professor," he declared finally, "Let's do this. My Severus taught me that it's always worth it to test the hypothesis out even if it seems implausible or even downright crazy; if there's even the slightest chance that it might prove true, it's worth it to test. I know, I know, you're not my Severus, but you do work with science, right? So you know all about hypotheses and predictions and testing long-standing theories, just to make sure some new piece of data doesn't knock them out of the air. So test this with me. Let's give it a try. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong, but I really don't think I am. I think you can grasp all of this -- "

"Without the use of magic? Potter," Severus snapped, "that so exceeds 'impossible' that it has gone all the way around to 'possible,' ripped its way through 'possible' and kept on going at full-pelt only to come full circle and end up at 'impossible' again!"

Potter looked bemused. "You are needlessly long-winded, sir," he said with a shake of his head. "And needlessly pessimistic, as well. I mean, really, come on, now. You're Severus Snape. If anyone can do this it's you."

"What is with this revolting display of support? You Gryffindors are always having unfortunate and most deplorable flights of fancy," Severus said harshly.

Potter laughed. "I wasn't a Gryffindor," he said ironically. "I was a Slytherin, sir."

Severus clenched his fists. The Houses must have been different here too, if they'd allowed Potter into Slytherin... How did they even perform the Sorting, anyways? A bloody computer-generated personality test? An online quiz? No matter; Potter's Sorting was not truly important at this moment; what was important was the fact that Potter was planning to teach him subjects that, before last week, Severus had never heard of. This had really gone on long enough. Severus needed to set Potter straight. Now.

"I do not care what you were," he seethed, "because what you currently are is much worse: you are blinded by affection you feel for a man who's no longer living and are projecting your feelings for him onto me."

Potter's face fell slightly, but only slightly, and only for a fraction of a second. He licked his lips. "Sir," he said simply, leaning forward, "that may be so. I will not deny that is a possibility. And it's one we can test as well. But the only way for us to test it is for me to get to know you better..." Potter trailed off, but Severus could still hear the wheels turning in his head. This act of innocence and determination-worthy-of-a-Gryffindor was just that: an act. Oh no, Potter knew exactly what he was doing now. Severus' lip curled: Potter was going in for the kill.

Potter leant in even closer. "But...I just know you can do this." A little closer. "And I want you to know it too. Please. Can we just try it?"

That was it! Enough of this foolishness! "Merlin, Potter, you will be the death of me!" he exploded. "I cannot abide such delusions of grandeur!"

But Potter was grinning again. "So, think of it as a lesson in patience, professor."

Severus narrowly -- just narrowly -- resisted the urge to strangle him.

-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-

A/N: I hope to get Part IV out in a few days; by the weekend at the absolute latest. You guys are amazing. Thank you for the encouragement! The reviews help me write faster (hint, hint!).