Thank you to everyone who left a review on the first chapter – your feedback was very much appreciated. I hope you all continue to enjoy the rest of the story.


Chapter Two: Imposter Syndrome.

True to her word, it was Lily who gently shook Severus back into consciousness the following morning. Greeting him with a rueful smile, she sat in the same seat as the day before when she had unknowingly welcomed him to this lucid fever dream. Even when she spoke, she sounded regretful. "I'm so sorry, I tried to stall them. But..."

She glanced over her shoulder, to where Professor Slughorn inched his way through the double doors of the Hospital wing, Professor McGonagall trailing in his wake. Both stopped and turned their duel gaze upon Severus, their expressions set with grim determination. It was marginally better than having them look at him with ill-concealed contempt as they thought him a murderer. Yet their sudden appearance still set his nerves on edge, although he knew what it was about. The truth was, in the midst of everything else, Severus hadn't really considered the fact that everyone here thought James Potter had tried to kill him. Or that something might need to be done about that. Now the implications jumped out at him, taking him at unawares.

"Ah, Severus my boy, you're awake," Slughorn declared. His voice reverberated around the room, startling into consciousness the ward's only other occupant – a fourth year Ravenclaw girl who'd taken a blow to the head from a bludger. Beaming brightly, he continued: "What awful business, truly awful. You're on the mend now though, so chin up and we'll have the matter dealt with in no time. What say you, Professor?"

In contrast to Slughorn, McGonagall's expression was like granite; her lips compressed to a thin white line as she cast a glance around the ward. She looked younger than when Severus had seen her last, but not much. After nodding to the concussed Ravenclaw, she answered: "I say that, perhaps, we might discuss the matter in private. I am sure Madam Pomfrey will not object to us using her office, so long as Mr Snape feels up to it?"

"Of course." It was the answer she clearly expected and Severus wasn't arguing. The truth was, apart from expecting to be dead, he felt fine. There was neither a headache from colliding with the rocky ground nor lingering queasiness from his recent infusion of snake venom. Nor evidence of anything else that was supposed to have happened to him of late. But at the very least, he thought his former colleagues might allow him a moment of privacy to dress. A need borne of not just modesty, but of the urgent desire to keep hidden the dark mark still emblazoned on his inner forearm.

Thus, when Professor McGonagall fixed him with a look of impatience, Severus contented himself with pulling his left sleeve over his hand and following them, still in his pyjamas. To his relief, Lily tagged along too, into Madam Pomfrey's office in an ante-chamber off the main hospital wing. It was a large room, but still cramped. Potions which, in his time, would be mostly made by him, were piled up on shelves from floor to ceiling. Each bottle and vial holding a different coloured liquid that caught and refracted the morning sunlight spilling through the office's dusty windows. Leather-bound books were piled up on the shelves and medical equipment was spilling out of half-open drawers. It was an office that seemed strangely at odds with the sterile, efficient neatness of Poppy Pomfrey.

Meanwhile, as though trying to remain as innocuous as possible, Lily retreated into a shadowy recess, leaving Severus to take a seat besides Professor Slughorn while McGonagall sat opposite. She wasted no time in conjuring a scroll of parchment from thin air with a jerky wave of her wand. After procuring a quill in similar fashion, she opened up proceedings in her customary curt manner. "Ever since the incident occurred, James Potter has been on suspension. Before making any final decisions on the best course of action, however, we need your side of the story. So, if you don't mind…"

McGonagall's silence was Severus' cue to start talking, but where to even begin? Finding himself suddenly on the receiving end of the older witch's laser-like glare and still grappling with what happened himself, Severus froze. Misconstruing his silence for reticence, Slughorn placed a fatherly arm around his narrow shoulders and drew him close. "Just you take your time, dear boy. There's nothing that can hurt you here."

Severus stiffened under Slughorn's touch, rankled by the insinuation he was afraid. Especially of James Potter. Eventually, he said: "Nothing."

His declaration was met by silence from all parties. McGonagall didn't even bother to write it down; instead she peered at him from over the rim of her spectacles. "You've been unconscious in a hospital bed for two days over nothing?"

Under the glare of their scrutiny, Severus felt himself closing his mind down. An automatic reaction he had whenever anyone looked at him the way McGonagall was now; a hangover of several years of spying on Voldemort. A reaction made worse by the fact that he wanted to tell them the truth, but he couldn't. That if he did, they would have him carted off to St Mungo's which was the last thing he needed. Instead, he did his best to answer their questions while simultaneously revealing absolutely nothing. "It's not what everyone thinks, Professor."

In response, Slughorn leaned in closer and spoke softly in Severus's ear: "Potter could be expelled for this, you know?"

"Thank you, Professor Slughorn," McGonagall curtly cut in. "I would like to think in matters as grave as this, even the most partisan among us could set aside their agenda for the sake of a young man's future. So, Snape, are you telling me you do not blame Potter for what happened?"

"Hanging me upside down and hexing me: yes," he stated. "But the rest didn't happen. Not like everyone says it did. It … it's not what everyone thinks."

Slughorn relaxed his grip on Severus's shoulders. "The boy's clearly still a little unsure of himself-"

"No, Professor. Really, I'm not." Severus hid his irritation well, but he still felt it coiling around his insides. He enjoyed speaking up for James Potter about as much as he enjoyed having Nagini coiled around his diaphragm, with the outcome of both being much the same to him. But this had to happen; he had no choice. "Please, Professor McGonagall, it's not what everyone thinks."

"So you're saying James Potter did not deliberately try to harm you?" McGonagall's eyes were wide with shock. It was obvious she thought he'd be dying to get Potter thrown out, that she had expected him to ham it up for her benefit. And the fact that, under normal circumstances, she would have been right, annoyed Severus even more.

The silence in the room was broken by McGonagall's quill as she quickly jotted down all that had passed between them. Once done, she tapped the parchment with her wand, sealing it magically. Taking this to mean the interview was at an end, Severus breathed a sigh of relief. But as McGonagall got up and left, Slughorn remained firmly in place. "If you remember anything else, Severus, you can still come and talk to me. You know that, don't you?"

"Thank you, Professor".

"And at least neither of you have any more classes until the new school year, so you haven't missed anything. So, once you get the all clear from matron, you can be back in the common room with your friends in no time. Chin up, eh?"

Seemingly delighted with the prospect, Slughorn was beaming again and rewarded Severus with a friendly clap on the back as he rose to follow McGonagall outside. But Severus remained, his blood running cold. Amidst all the confusion, he had also failed to realise he was, technically, a school kid again. That he would have to go to classes, resume his place in his old dormitory and play nicely with all the future Death Eaters he would gladly throw off a cliff. It was not an enticing prospect.

At least Lily was happy.

"I can't believe you covered for Potter, Sev," she said, collapsing into Slughorn's vacated seat. "He's an arrogant toe rag and all the detentions in the world will do nothing to change his ways."

"I wasn't covering for him, Lily. It's … complicated."

Severus rose to his feet, preparing to vacate Pomfrey's office before she could return and find them both in there. But Lily was still sitting, looking thoughtful. "If Potter learns a little humility after this, and now that you've shown you're not just out for his blood, do you think you two might even call a truce?"

Disguising his laugh as a cough, he replied: "Humility is not a word in the James Potter lexicon. You know that. Now come on, I'm hungry."


That night, after a brief but repetitive conversation with the still concussed Ravenclaw, Severus lay awake in bed. Madam Pomfrey had flat out refused to discharge him, thus he had been given no choice but to endure another night of futile inactivity. A slow ticking time, passing at snail's pace in which all he could do was think. But, unlike the previous night, the oddest, incidental things popped into his head.

What had happened to his old body? Was it still sprawled on the floor of the Shrieking Shack? Had it simply dematerialised as he was dragged back through space and time? Who won the war? Had it yet been won at all or was the Dark Lord now ruling all he surveyed from a throne of bones? Was Harry Potter dead? Sacrificed to blast that part of the Dark Lord's soul out of his head. Severus knew that to be the case. That part of Voldemort's soul was latched on to the boy, but he couldn't for the life of him remember when he had been told that. He knew it was Dumbledore who told him, simply because it couldn't have been anyone else. Alas, it was another memory he'd had to give to Potter before the time came. Briefly, he wondered whether they all still thought him a cold blooded killer. But that hardly mattered in the great, grand scheme of things. Somewhere, in some dark and unacknowledged part of his psyche, he wondered if he might ever even get back to where he was supposed to be. But no, he couldn't think of that yet. There was a reason behind all this and he needed to know what it was.

Finally, he dozed off again but soon awoke in the cold, dark stone cavern. A fluorescent green light shimmered out in the middle of the placid black lake, drawing his attention with its sinister allure. This time, he was not a child cowering from his father. This time, he knew not to step in the water. As he approached, his footsteps echoed off the high vaulted ceiling, making him wince against the intrusive reverb. He walked again, but the darkness closed in on him, blotting out the world until all was black.

Once upon a time, he had berated a student for not closing their mind to such visions. But, as he sat on the edge of his bed trying to recall every minute detail, Severus Snape had to admit he was beginning to understand the allure of such dreams.

The sun was up already, heralding the start of a new day and the noise overhead was of countless students rushing to morning classes as the Great Hall emptied. Meanwhile, he was waiting for Madam Pomfrey to fully exhaust every possible reason for detaining him further.

"There's no dizziness?"

"No."

"No double-vision?"

"No."

"No nausea or headaches?"

"No and no."

She checked each item off on a clipboard, her large feather quill jerking with each stroke. Unless he was mistaken, there was even an increasing sense of urgency in her voice as she found herself running short of reasons to delay the inevitable. He had forgotten she could be like this. Over-cautious and so thorough that even an unexpected sneeze could land a student under her rigid care.

"I'm still worried that you're not sleeping properly."

"I slept for two days straight."

He smiled but got a stern frown in response. "Unconscious is not the same as asleep, young man."

Nevertheless, she discharged him.

With the curtains pulled closed around his bed, he dressed hurriedly in clothes he found folded neatly in his old school trunk that had been pushed under his bed. Old school clothes that he had not seen, never mind worn, in decades. A green and silver tie embroidered with the serpent of Slytherin, old tatty socks that were probably his father's cast offs and black trousers that hadn't been pressed in months. Over it all, he wrapped his old Slytherin robe around his shoulders although the weather hardly warranted it. It wasn't just being made to wear an old uniform that made him feel uncomfortable. Nor the deep feeling of strangeness they brought. It was the fact that it somehow managed to make him feel even more like an imposter.

He drew back the curtains to find Lily waiting for him on the other side. Her red hair turning to burnished copper as the morning light spilled over her head. The smile on her face was genuine, lighting up those familiar emerald eyes. "Well, that's that then. Fancy some breakfast?"

"I do, as it happens."

But as it also happened, Slytherins were not allowed at the Gryffindor table any more than Gryffindors were allowed at the Slytherin table. So they each helped themselves to a stack of toast from each before heading out into the grounds where such rules did not apply. Drawn, as always, to the shores of the Great Lake, they sat in the shade of an old oak tree where Lily could happily chatter away about all that was happening in her life. From the girls in her dormitory and the boys they all liked, to what they planned to do in Hogsmead before the end of summer term. It was a welcome distraction from the noise in Severus' head, although it would have driven him crazy before his death.

"Oh, and Slughorn's holding the final meeting of the Slug Club soon," said Lily, happily. "I think he's planning something special since we finished our OWLS. So, he's fully expecting us both to be there, whether or not your skull's been cleaved in two."

Whatever retort Severus had he bit back on it quick. Instead, he cast his mind back over the years, trying to recall anything of note that happened during the last Slug Club meeting of 1976. "I bet, this time, Adrian Pucey sneaks a load of firewhiskey into the party, gets outrageously drunk and declares his secret love for Celestina Warbeck before trying to regale us all with his rendition of 'You Stole My Cauldron but You Can't Have my Heart.'"

He turned to Lily again, finding her staring at him blankly before dissolving into fits of laughter. "You just made that up –" she broke off, the smile freezing on her lips. "Oh, don't look now. But guess who's turned up."

As always, proceeding the words "don't look now", Severus absolutely turned to look, following the direction of her gaze until his own fell upon James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. No doubt, Pettigrew was around somewhere and, sure enough, his squat chubby form emerged from the knot of boys. The absolute revulsion Severus felt for Potter still managed to take him by surprise. Although he had known, but maybe not acknowledged, that this moment would surely have to come. A matter not helped when his old nemesis turned to look at him, his expression blank. For just the most fleeting moment, their gaze met before Potter turned red and looked away. Pettigrew caught his attention next, his round face shining from the exertion of walking across the lawn. The sight of him brought on a fresh wave of nausea.

"I need to go," he said, getting to his feet.

"No, Sev, we were here first," she said, indignantly. "Besides, they haven't started anything."

"Yeah, well I don't want to give them the opportunity." He was on his feet, taking his first steps back toward the castle. The chatter of the Marauders grew louder as one among their number made a joke. Severus chanced a glance back over his shoulder, noting that James Potter wasn't laughing. Now standing slightly apart from the others, he was watching Severus and Lily as they made their retreat. Pettigrew squealed, simpering up at Sirius Black as some inane joke was made. Pettigrew, the rat. In more senses than one.

"I need to get out of here."

"You're white as a ghost, Sev." Lily sounded concerned now. "Y'know, maybe it was too soon to leave the hospital wing, after all?"

"I'm fine." He did not break pace as he strode back toward the castle. Lily had to jog to keep up with him, still balancing a stack of toast in her hands. Giving up, she vanished the remainder of their breakfast with a flick of her wand and came running to catch up again. Once she was back in step with him, he added: "It's him. You don't know him, Lily. None of you do."

"Who? James? There's really not much of substance to know."

"Not him. Pettigrew," Severus corrected her. He had not expected it, but the sight of the rat cuddling up to the boys he would one day send to their early graves made him feel physically sick. Trembling, he shoved through the oak doors, breathing deeply only once he was back in the shade and safety of the castle's hall.

"I don't wish to be mean, but Peter is a bit of a follower. He has none of James or Sirius' skill or daring."

He wished he could tell her. If only she knew. But he had long reached the point where he had to tell someone and the only someone he felt he could tell was Dumbledore. That old bastard probably knew all about this. There had probably been some trickery, some obscure and ancient magic performed during all those nights they spent planning the war in his office that had caused this. It was a train of thought so illogical he would have laughed before he died. But this was too much and Severus was grasping at straws. It was all he had left.

Finally, they reached the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office and came to a halt. Given how short the walk had been, Severus found himself surprisingly breathless as he turned to Lily. "Know the password?"

She shrugged. "It'll be sweets of some sort, won't it?"

Of course. Out of sheer desperation, he tried the first confectionery that came to mind. "Sugar quills."

Nothing. Lily tried next: "Chocolate frog."

Still nothing. "Sherbet Lemons."

"Cockroach Cluster?" Lily made it sound like a question but she got no answer.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans … Drooble's Best Blowing Gum…." Severus was quickly losing patience, running out of ideas as he grasped for random sweets. All the while, his need to speak with Dumbledore grew more desperate. A desperation exacerbated by the enormity of the situation opening up before him. "Acid Pops … Sugar Mice … Sugar-sugar… SUGAR-FUCKS!"

Severus' temper finally got the better of him just as the gargoyle swung aside to reveal Professor McGonagall, wide-eyed with shock. She pulled up short, fixing him with a sharp look. "Well, Snape, it appears you have been restored to full health for which we all give thanks."

Reddening, Severus remembered his apparent age. Although, bringing some small consolation was the knowledge that that wouldn't have flown with McGonagall even if he had still been an adult. "Sorry, Professor-"

"Detention, Mister Snape. My office, Friday evening. I will be in touch with a precise time."

And with that, she motioned for him to get on the stairs to the headmaster's office and promptly walked away.

"Wonderful," he said, once she was out of earshot.

Lily was trying not to laugh. "For what it's worth, I don't think that word you said would have worked."

"Look, you better go too. I need to speak with Dumbledore alone."

"I'll be in the library, okay?"

Severus nodded and watched as she turned and walked away. Only once she was out of sight did he turn to the moving staircase and set foot on the bottom step. It conveyed him upwards, depositing him right outside the headmaster's door. Still, he hesitated as he tried to straighten the story in his head. But there was no time left and he raised his fist to knock firmly. For half a heartbeat, he hoped the old man wouldn't be in. Or hadn't heard him. It would give him more time to organise his thoughts. But no such luck.

"Enter!" came a familiar, muffled voice from within.


Thank you for reading. Reviews would be welcome, if you have a minute.