A/N: This was written for the Snape Bang 2020! Big thanks to the modmins at Snape Bang for hosting this fest! This would not be a fic if I hadn't had lots of help. First of all Vino Amore gave me the plot bunny for this one, thank you, my dear! Ravenpufflove, UrsulaHood, and Silver Lioness all spent some time beta'ing this story. Thank you lovelies!

LunaP999 created a gorgeous piece of artwork to go along with this. Find it on her Tumblr lunap999!

If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. Enjoy!


Chapter 2: To the Headmistress's Office


31 October 1998

"We need to go to the Headmistresses office," the girl said. "Right away."

She hadn't even introduced herself to him before she grabbed his arm, and tugged him behind her as she left the dormitory. He didn't recognize her at all, though she was the only girl in the room, he did see that before she dragged him out and to the small landing outside of it.

Who was this girl and why was she in Lily's room? He wasn't so oblivious that he didn't know all of the Gryffindor girls in his year.

Flicking her wand at the stairs, which had wobbled for a moment, she led him down them and straight into the Gryffindor common room. He barely had a chance to take a breath and the grip she had on his forearm was tight. She was moving fast, and despite his greater height advantage he was having a bit of trouble keeping up.

His heart leapt up into his throat when he got into the common room proper, and he winced instinctively. Surely, Potter or Black would be there to hex him. He might have even deserved it for showing up in a girls' dormitory. It took several steps for him to realize that no hex was coming. Looking around the cozy room, he didn't see any of the Marauders and he breathed a small sigh of relief. At least one thing was going his way. Though, as he was being dragged through the room he realized that he didn't recognize any of the students in there. He turned to look over his shoulder, trying to pick out someone—anyone— he recognized, and though they all stared at him, none of them looked even the least bit familiar.

Severus shook his head. That couldn't be right. Before he could take another look, the witch with the death grip on his arm shoved him through the portrait hole. He didn't exit gracefully and tripped over the lip of the hole, falling to his knees

"Merlin, sorry!" she said, giving him a hand to help him up. There was sincerity in her apology, but he didn't take kindly to carelessness. "I forget that people aren't used to the portrait hole," she said as Severus narrowed his eyes at her and pushed himself off the floor without her help.

"Perhaps be less pushy in the future," he snapped, feeling pleased when she flinched.

"I said I was sorry," she muttered, grabbing his arm again and leading him through the corridors toward the staircase. He tried tugging his arm from her, but she held it firmly in her grip as if she was used to holding on to people like that. He took a moment to study her profile. She had a smattering of freckles across her dark cheeks and nose; her jaw was clenched tightly. He thought if the castle were silent he might even be able to hear her grinding her teeth together. He wasn't sure what look was on her face, something that wavered between scared and concerned. He couldn't blame her for that, he had just shown up in her dormitory. It was then that he realized she wasn't even wearing a robe and her shirt was half-unbuttoned.

Salazar, had he interrupted her just as she was changing?

That possibility caused a lot of feelings in Severus that he did not want to examine; his body flushed hot, then cold, and he was infinitely grateful she was clutching his forearm and not his hands, for now they were sweaty.

"I do know where the Headmaster's office is located," Severus said, as he finally yanked his hand away to wipe it on his trousers. Her gaze flicked over him for a moment, before she grabbed his forearm once more. They took the stairs at a slower pace, and he began wondering what he could do to get her to stop touching him. Not that her touch was unpleasant, just… he wasn't used to people touching him. Ever. And it was a little disconcerting that this small Gryffindor girl did it with such ease.

As they waited for a staircase, Severus couldn't stop himself from looking around the castle. It looked different, strange. There were parts that clearly appeared to be newer than others as if they were recently repaired. He didn't remember any parts of the castle looking like that. The castle he was used to, looked centuries old in every single part of it, but there were some sections here that looked positively brand new. The next staircase they descended looked as if it had been freshly poured concrete just a few months ago. What could cause the castle to look so different? And why only parts of it? There were some things he recognized as looking basically the same, but others looked wholly new or were gone entirely. For instance, Severus could have sworn that there were an even dozen suits of armor on the sixth floor, but by his quick count, there were only nine.

A sort of dawning horror was drawing over him. The ritual had brought him to somewhen else. Not just brought him to his heart's desire… though, Lily was nowhere in sight. If it didn't bring him to Lily, then who the hell did it bring him to? Surely not… he shook his head, not allowing the train of thought to continue.

"I see you're in Slytherin robes, but I don't recognize you," she said, interrupting his thoughts and looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "What year are you in?"

"Seventh," Severus said tightly, his gaze still fixed to the castle around them. "And you?"

"Seventh... or eighth, depending on how you look at it," she replied. That answer didn't make any sense to Severus. There was no eighth year. Maybe she was studying to become an apprentice? But then how could she also be a seventh year? Nothing was making sense. Severus hated it when things didn't make sense.

They made it down to the fifth floor when Severus saw something that made him stop in his tracks. There was an entire section of the wall, almost six meters of it, completely rebuilt. He found himself asking without meaning to, "What happened?" His voice was rather breathless and he coughed, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. Though, nothing about this felt all that normal. He was feeling quite panicky and trying to hide it as best he could.

Something with his ritual had gone very, very wrong.

The girl tensed and stopped. She stared at the wall, specifically the inscription at the center it that Severus couldn't quite make out. He stepped closer reading it.

Fred Gideon Weasley

The Best Weasley Twin

April 1, 1978 - May 2, 1998

His breath caught in his throat at the dates. That… that wasn't possible. It was 1977. How was—

"That's where Fred died," she said quietly. Her words gave him something to focus on that wasn't the confusing date on the castle wall in front of him. Then she turned to him, looking up at him shrewdly. "When are you from?"

"When?" he asked. The feeling that he wasn't in 1977 anymore grew, but it still hadn't really sunk into his brain that he had somehow traveled through time. Time travel shouldn't be possible without the aid of something like a Time-Turner, which Severus had never even seen before. "What do you mean? When?"

"What year is it?" she asked instead. Her intelligent brown eyes were assessing his reaction. He turned from her curious gaze; suddenly he didn't want to be here at all. His chest felt tight and his palms were sweating even more than before.

What was happening to him? What had he done?

"1977," he said quietly, trying to push the panic back, but it kept rising inside him.

She pursed her lips and shook her head, her curls bounced, catching the light. "It's 1998." A ridiculous thought flicked through his mind, she looked pretty. Prettier than he had first given her credit for. Then her words hit his brain and he looked at her in confusion for a long moment.

It was like his knees just decided to stop holding him and he found himself slumped on the floor, his back against that repaired bit of wall and his head in his hands.

Twenty-one years. He had somehow traveled twenty-one years into the future with that ill-conceived ritual. What on earth had he been thinking? Suddenly, it seemed hard to catch his breath. His chest became impossibly tight, and he was gasping, but no oxygen was going into his lungs; it was like drowning except he was on dry land. Oh, Merlin, oh Circe, he was going to pass out. Black spots threatened at the outsides of his vision, growing larger in time with his labored breaths.

"Hey, it's alright," the girl said kindly, kneeling down on the floor next to him. "I get these too, put your head between your legs and take deep breaths." She placed her hand on his shoulder, and again he marveled at how easily she touched him. Nobody touched him like that. Not in years. Not since he and Lily… not since… he couldn't think of it. His vision narrowed to a point.

"Can't... breath," Severus gasped, and suddenly her hand was on his scalp, touching his hair, shoving his head forward, and holding it there.

"Breath with me," she said, her voice a command now, "In, one, two, three, four, five. Out, one, two, three, four, five. That's it, keep going." She continued to slowly count breaths in and out and Severus tried to match her pace. After what felt like ages, but was probably only minutes, the tightness in Severus's chest eased, and his breath came easier.


"How long have you been having panic attacks?" Hermione asked the strange boy who had just shown up in her dormitory.

Severus, she reminded herself, that was what he had said his name was.

A lot of things had surprised her about the wizarding world over the years, but someone literally showing up in her dormitory was a new one. He looked to be about her age, with black hair that hung to his shoulders, and a sharp, aquiline nose that had probably been broken a time or two and not healed correctly. He was impossibly tall compared to her, taller even than Ron.

"I've never had one before," he said. His head wasn't buried between his knees anymore, now it leant against the wall: Fred's wall, as she thought of it. His eyes were squeezed shut. She studied his profile: the tightness of his mouth, the huge Adam's apple that bulged out of his neck, no doubt, partially the cause for his deep voice.

"Bit of a shock, finding out the year, sorry about that," she said, settling into her spot next to him, and bumping her shoulder against his. "Means you probably don't know anything about the war."

"War?" His voice was hoarse. Hermione reached out a hand to place it on one of his forearms. He stared at her hand uncomprehendingly, but despite the awkwardness, she left it there. He was clearly completely freaked out by appearing in the future. She was trying to be comforting but wasn't quite sure she was doing a good job of it.

"With Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It ended in May, and well, it's a bit raw for a lot of us still at Hogwarts. Though with you being from 1977, I would guess you have at least heard of Voldemort."

The boy nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I've heard of him," he said, his voice was still raw.

When his dark eyes opened, Hermione offered him a smile. He didn't return it, though the look on his face wasn't completely unfriendly. His eyes were so dark they were almost black in the dim corridor lighting. It was when they dipped below her face that she realized her shirt was still only half-buttoned.

Her face flamed when his eyes focused on her chest, and she coughed, half turning away from him to quickly do up the appropriate amount of buttons.

Godric, she had almost waltzed into the headmistress's office with her shirt open like that. How horrifically embarrassing would that have been? Almost as embarrassing as having this strange boy seeing her like that.

After a few moments of deep breathing she turned back to find his head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed again. He was taking deep breaths in through his nose, as if only a few moments away from panicking again. When she placed her hand on his forearm again his eyes popped open, and he straightened to look at her. She noticed he was very good at keeping his eyes on her face.

"Feeling any better?" she asked.

Severus shook his head. "Not really, no." Hermione squeezed his arm. There really wasn't anything she could do to make him feel better. It wasn't as if they had any Time-Turners left to get him back to the past.

"How did you end up here, anyway?" she asked, hoping to relax him some.

His eyes turned hard and cold. "I'd rather not say," he said with a very clipped voice.

She nodded. That she could understand, after having kept so many secrets for Harry over the years… Weird to think that this boy knew Harry's mum somehow. Though, if he really did come from 1977, then he would have been the same age as her. Though what his mum, a Gryffindor, was doing being friends with a Slytherin, she had no idea. Back in the summer before fifth year, Sirius had told them that the division and discord between houses had always been there, maybe even worse in the 70s than it had been in the 90s.

"Well come on then, the Headmistress is going to want to see you." Hermione got to her feet quickly and offered the boy a hand up. She wondered if he would take it, he seemed a little standoffish, though she wasn't sure if that was part of his personality or the fact that he had traveled over twenty years into the future.

"Headmistress?" he asked as he took her hand and stood. He didn't drop her hand once he was standing and Hermione smiled as she turned away, leading him toward the stairs.

"I don't want to say too much," Hermione said, moving slower than before, hoping that her rushing hadn't helped lead to his panic attack. "I don't want to compromise anything in case they are able to send you back to your proper time."

"Right, back," he said faintly, and not for the first time, Hermione wondered just how he had ended up in her dormitory. He looked rather pale though… she would get answers enough from Headmistress McGonagall. She just hoped she was going to be allowed to stay to hear all of the answers. She hoped, given her war experience, that she wasn't going to be treated like a child. But with the wizarding world, one never knew. The adults seemed to treat people her age in a different way each time they saw them.

She couldn't wait to be out of Hogwarts and living on her own.


Severus only knew it was after eleven at night by the ringing of the bells just as they reached the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's—headmistress's, he reminded himself—office.

"Lagavulin," the girl, who still hadn't introduced herself, said to the gargoyle. It hopped aside and she pulled him up the stairs by his hand.

When had she started holding his hand? He couldn't remember but didn't bother to tug it away from her. It felt kind of… nice. He grimaced at the thought, but he knew he was touch starved. He hated that he knew that fact, but he wasn't about to pull away from the only person who had been willing to touch him in years.

"What's a Lagavulin?" he asked as they ascended the spiral stairs behind the gargoyle.

"Scotch, apparently," the girl replied. "Professor McGonagall really likes her scotch."

"Professor McGonagall is the headmistress?" he asked, a sinking feeling in his chest. Never once—in seven years—had she ever taken his side against the Marauders. She was almost as bad as Dumbledore in that respect. Though, she at least had been properly horrified at Black's stunt in fifth year with Lupin. Not that it did much good. Dumbledore still let Black off with a few detentions, while scolding Severus to keep his nose to himself. How was he to have known that Dumbledore knew about Lupin being a werewolf? What kind of madman let a werewolf go to school?

When they reached the top of the stairs, the girl knocked. "Headmistress McGonagall?" she called out.

"Hey, what's your na—" Severus asked just before he was interrupted and the door swung open. McGonagall was gazing at them with a confused look on her face.

"Miss Granger? What on earth is going on?" She looked quickly back and forth between the girl, Granger, and him. "Who is that?"

"That's why we're here to see you, Headmistress," Granger said. "Can we come in? It's kind of a long story."

"Well, alright, but you know you aren't supposed to have visitors at Hogwarts," the headmistress said, disapproval heavy in her voice. The girl huffed and dragged Severus up the last few stairs.

"Sit," McGonagall said, indicating the two chairs in front of the massive desk. The office was night and day different from Dumbledore's. It was filled to the brim with books, with a very large collection of decanters along one wall. McGonagall herself looked impossibly older, much older than just the twenty years that had gone by. Granger had mentioned a war, perhaps that had something to do with it. Right above McGonagall's desk, in a place of prominence, was a portrait of Dumbledore. Salazar! That meant Dumbledore was dead. He was asleep in the portrait, snoring lightly. A sick feeling slid into Severus's stomach, just as he was starting to feel better about it all. How was he going to get back if Dumbledore was dead? Granger caught where he was looking and smiled sadly.

"A year and a half ago," she said.

"The war?" Severus asked. She nodded.

"How do you not know about the war?" McGonagall asked, narrowing her eyes at Severus in a look he was intimately familiar with. He found himself scowling back, just as he would have in 1977. "Don't give me that look, young man!"

Granger placed her hand on his forearm again, giving him a warning look. "Headmistress McGonagall, this is Severus Snape, he just appeared in my dormitory this evening."

"What do you mean 'appeared?'" McGonagall looked sharply between the two of them. "I know he couldn't have gone up the stairs in Gryffindor tower. I renewed the charm myself over the summer."

"He didn't go up the stairs," Granger said, arguing on his behalf which was a completely bewildering experience for Severus. Nobody had ever argued on his behalf before. "He appeared. Like with a Portkey or Apparition, however, I don't think that's how he got there."

"I should say not! Both of those modes of transport are banned at Hogwarts." McGonagall leaned forward over her desk, peering closer at him. "Snape, you say? That name does sound familiar, though I can't place it."

Severus cleared his throat. "I was a seventh year in 1977. I seem to have traveled twenty-one years into the future."

"Good Godric!" Professor McGonagall leaned back in her chair, a hand on her chest, her eyes wide as she stared at him, completely shell-shocked. She took a deep breath and picked up her wand to summon a decanter and glass from the far wall. After pouring herself two fingers of Scotch and taking a sip, she spoke again, "Twenty-one years? 1977, you say? Well, you would have been contemporaries with our Potions Master then. Perhaps he will have a better memory of you." She flicked out her wand and Severus couldn't stop himself from flinching violently back in his chair. McGonagall gave him a disapproving look, though Granger squeezed his arm where she still had her hand laid. Another flick and tabby cat Patronus trotted out of McGonagall's wand and onto her desk. She meowed and circled as McGonagall instructed her to find Professor Black.

The feeling in Severus's stomach worsened. What kind of future hellscape was this that Sirius Black of all people was the Potions professor? His chest started feeling tight again, and he glanced at Granger to see her looking positively frightened. Oh, Merlin, this was bad. This was very, very bad. Severus's breathing sped up and he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Hey, it's alright," Granger said quietly. She scooted her chair closer to his and placed her other arm on his back. "Deep breaths remember? Let's try not to hyperventilate again."

"What is going on?" McGonagall asked. Granger and Severus both ignored her; so he could try and get his breathing under control, but he had no idea why Granger didn't bother saying anything to the Headmistress. He was just pleased she kept helping him. She counted her breaths, holding it in for five between the inhale and exhale, slowly rubbing her small hand on his back. If he weren't freaking out completely it would probably feel rather nice.

"Professor Black is all bark and no bite," Granger said. "You'll like him, I promise. Most everyone does after about fifth year. Before then, it's usually a bit touch and go," she laughed quietly.

"Not helping," Severus gritted out. "I know exactly who Black is and he and I weren't very chummy."

"Oh," Granger said. He found himself wishing he knew her first name. "Well, I'll do what I can then," she offered quietly. "The headmistress and I don't quite see eye-to-eye on most things, so it's no skin off my back."

"Why?" he finally had his breathing under control, though he still felt rather lightheaded. He turned to look up at her. "Why would you help me?"

She shrugged. "It's the right thing to do, isn't it? You've got yourself into quite a pickle, and have no friends here." She offered him a small smile. "I'll be your friend if you like?"

Severus didn't get a chance to answer her, because just then the door to the Headmistress's office burst open, and his heart started beating out of his chest again. He dropped his head, using his hair to curtain his face, and tried going through one of Granger's breathing exercises. He would never live down passing out in front of adult Sirius Black. Even if Granger promised to protect him. After all, what could she do against her professor?

"Ah, Professor Black, thank you for coming under such short notice," Headmistress McGonagall said. "We've come upon a bit of a situation."

"I can see that," Black replied. Severus's entire body clenched at the sound of that pompous pretentious voice. It was just as he remembered it, though perhaps a bit deeper with age.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Granger glancing between him and Black. Severus hunched his shoulders, even more, curling up as tightly as he could in his chair while still remaining upright. Granger's hand remained on his back, but Severus wished she wasn't touching him. He wished more than anything that he wasn't here. The last thing he wanted to see was the face of Sirius Black, his eternal tormentor.

"Look at me," Black said softly, a tone Severus had never heard from his nemesis. Willing his face into a cool mask, Severus took a deep breath. He finally pulled his head up enough to see Black leaning his hip against McGonagall's desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked old; Circe, when had everyone gotten so old? His grey eyes were the same though, and the piercing frown between them was very reminiscent of his bully. His whole body was tensed, waiting for a hex, but the longer it took to arrive, the more wound up Severus became. He couldn't relax. He could never relax, not in front of Black. Though… Severus peered closer, there was something about Black's expression that wasn't quite what he was expecting.

"It's him," Black said. "It's Snape."

The tension was almost too much, Severus was on the verge of fleeing when Black went on.

"Merlin, we looked for you. For weeks we looked for you, wondering where you had gone!" Professor Black looked properly worried now and Severus leaned as far back in his chair as he could to try and create some space between them.

"It's really 1998?" Severus asked quietly. Nothing about this made sense: not the time travel, not the fact that Sirius Black would have looked for him after he had disappeared, nothing.

"Professor Black, did you really know him?" Granger asked, looking between the two men. "He just showed up in my dormitory."

"In your dormitory?" Black asked, giving Severus a sharp look. "The Gryffindor girls seventh year dormitory?"

Granger nodded. "Yes."

"Just what were you doing there, Severus?" Black's slightly quirked lips had a flush rising quickly on Severus's face. .

Severus reddened. "Don't you mean Snivellus, Black?" he spat.

Granger gasped; McGonagall stood to scold him; Black looked sad.

"You will address the Professors of this school with dignity and respect!" McGonagall said, slapping her hand down on the desk.

"It's alright, Minerva. He thinks I'm my brother."

McGonagall looked confused for a long moment. "Sirius? Why would he think…" she trailed off and peered back at Severus. "Oh."

"Yes, oh," Severus spat. "I'm the one you let Sirius Black and James Potter bully all over this damned school. So I'll be damned if I give any respect to the imbecile who bullied me for six years."

"Severus, I'm Regulus," Black said, placing a hand on Severus's shoulder. "Sirius died two years ago."