%% six months later %%

Harry was relaxing in front of the fire with his new favorite pastime - wondering about Severus Snape. Was he alive? Was he dead? Where was he? Why didn't any one know anything? He knew he was obsessing, but age hadn't mellowed his insatiable curiously. No matter how much trouble it had gotten him in over the years.

He hadn't spoken of his new preoccupation with his friends. He could imagine their reactions easily enough though. Ron would ask why he cared about the 'greasy git' and generally be of the opinion of good riddance. Hermione would become concerned and offer to help, but only after lecturing him on respecting others privacy and maybe Snape didn't want to be found.

No, he was content to mull it over on his own. Besides, it was a nice distraction from his everyday concerns. He could spin elaborate fantasies of what could have happened. Everything from a slow death by poison, covered up of course, to Snape falling in love and running way to get married. The last never failed to make him smile; it was the most outrageous thing he'd ever thought of. Though, admittedly, with age and hindsight, he could see that Snape had a lot to offer. His voice for one, not to mention his intelligence and wit. He certainly wasn't the ideal of beauty, however, he was striking.

Harry sighed; he really needed to go out more if he was starting to rhapsodize over Snape. It was hard to date though. Nine times out of ten his date was more interested in being seen with him than in being with him. It was frustrating. He'd never forgotten Draco's letter, but it seemed as though a man who was interested in him for his own sake didn't exist.

He stood and stretched, enough with the moping. He had work in the morning; it was time to head to bed.

%% Glasgow %%

Professor Severus Snape collected his books and papers in preparation for heading home. It had been another day of trying to pound the subtleties of philosophy in to students who'd rather be on the football pitch. Well, the freshmen at least. His upper class students were more appreciative. University tended to weed those that wanted to learn from those that didn't.

It was nice to be appreciated. In fact he was the most popular philosophy professor the Uni'd had in quite some time. He did have a unique grasp of the subject if he did say so himself.

He grimaced, yes, unique was one way to put it. However, he hadn't reestablished his entire life by dwelling on the past. Learning from it, yes, but not dwelling. He did spare a thought for his old friend Albus Dumbledore. He did occasionally wonder how the old man was getting on. He had to be nearly 150 by now.

Locking his office he began the walk to his flat. His life certainly hadn't turned out the way he expected he reflected. Who would've thought the reviled potions master of Hogwarts would end up the respected professor of philosophy at the Glasgow University? Certainly not him, and it was his life! For the countless time he thanked whoever had sent him the cursed box. And wouldn't they be upset to know their curse had turned out to be anything but? Chuckling lightly to himself his step became jauntier as he recalled the events of nearly 13 years ago.

%% Hogwarts 13 (or so) years ago %%

Severus fidgeted with the blankest covering his lap. He'd been in the damned bed three days. Three days too long in his opinion. But Poppy wanted him where she could keep an eye on him. With Dumbledore backing her up, that's exactly what she got. The infernal woman had threatened him with a body bind if he didn't stay put! "Bloody nerve of some people," he muttered.

"Bloody hell! I'm starting to talk to my self. That's it; I'm getting out of here. She can't curse me if she can't find me."

Just as he threw the blankets off, Dumbledore entered. "My dear Severus, not trying to escape Poppy's care are you?" The old man's eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Damnit, Albus, I want out of here." He was appalled to find himself whining. Modulating his tone he continued, "I can assure you I'm well enough to return to my own rooms. I'm not leaving the castle."

Dumbledore sat in the bedside chair. "True, true, but you know how Poppy can be." Ignoring Severus' snort he went on, "I'm afraid I haven't any good news my boy. None of the tests we've run have turned up anything. It's as if you've never had magic. However, more extensive tests can be done at St. Mungo's"

"No," the other man interrupted. "No more tests. I've been thinking about this curse, in fact I've thought of little else these last three days, and I've come to a decision. Since I can no longer perform magic, and I've tried, it's a perfect opportunity for me to start my life over. I will never be any more than a former Death Eater if I remain in the wizard world. Feared and hated despite my accomplishments. This curse provides the perfect incentive to begin anew in the muggle world. For that is essentially what I am now. Frankly, I've no desire to stay in the wizard world. It has nothing left to offer me aside from a life time of further looking over my shoulder."

The twinkle had left Albus' eyes at the other mans words. "You've given this much thought haven't you?"

"Yes, I have Albus. I've had little opportunity for anything else."

Albus sighed, "Please, let me help you then. The Ministry owes me a favor or three," he again ignored the snort form the bed, "let me use them to help you get settled."

"Certainly old friend, your help would be most appreciated." His tone turned sarcastic, "Besides, it's the least the Ministry can do for me."

Eyes again twinkling Albus chuckled, "I am going to miss you dear boy."

%% present %%

Using the favors owed Albus by the Ministry, Severus became a fully documented muggle. He had the entire paper trail, including an education that made him a doctor of philosophy. The twists and turns of the discipline had always fascinated him. However, that was all the help he'd taken from the Ministry. He'd converted his savings to pounds, then found and won a job on his own merits. Thirteen years now, and he had no regrets. He was happier than he could ever remember being.

The walk to his modest flat passed swiftly as he was lost in thought. Even with his determination not to dwell in the past the autumn always made him slightly melancholic. So many significant events in his life had happened at the turn of the season. The first and second, final, defeat of Voldemort. The death of his mother. The incident at the shrieking shack. His initiation into the Death Eaters and subsequent defection a year later. Add to that the beginning of the school term and it made for a season laden with pitfalls to dark thoughts.

Socrates and Plato, his cats, were waiting by the door when he arrived home. The strays had appeared three years ago and in spite of his relative indifference toward them, had stayed. They had proven pleasant company over the years. For despite his popularity, he remained a solitary man, resisting his fellow professors' efforts to include him in their social lives.

The two cats darted in as soon as the door opened. With piteous meows they informed him they were hungry. "Just wait, you mangy beasts, I've only got in the door." Affection, that many who used to know him would be surprised at, colored his voice. Moving through the cozy lounge he deposited his satchel on the cluttered desk and hung his coat on the rack, all the while maneuvering around the cats twining round his ankles.

"Well, you little scoundrels, what should it be tonight? Tea in, or at the pub?" Entering the kitchen he retrieved a tin of cat food. Splitting it between two saucers he placed the food on the floor. "I think that despite your wonderful company it will be tea at the pub today." Not unexpectedly, he was ignored by the felines attacking their meal.

Putting his coat back on he left to make his way to his usual pub.

%%

Four weeks of holiday, an entire month, what a glorious feeling. It had been nearly five years since he'd taken any substantial time from work. Harry planned to make the most of it. No work, no responsibilities, and no one bothering him. Not even Ron and Hermione. He planned on spending the last long weekend of his holiday with them, so they wouldn't feel left out. But this vacation was for him.

They'd married nearly ten years ago and had their first child now. A little boy, Arthur, after Ron's dad. He was four and as cute as a bug. Unfortunately, ever since Arthur's birth, Ron, and especially Hermione, were on him to settle down. It was getting rather tiresome. It made the time he spent with them trying.

It wasn't that he didn't want to settle down. The right wizard just hadn't come along and he was unwilling to settle for anything less. Besides, he was still plagued by the fame his scar brought. The mark had finally faded, however it was still visible and thanks to the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly he had one of the most recognizable faces in wizardom.

Maybe he'd meet someone on holiday. He would be spending the four weeks in the muggle world, so it was possible. Though not probable, he snorted softly to himself as he walked down the street. Oh yeah, I'm going to meet a man and have a grand passionate affair. Then, I'm going to tell him I'm a wizard and he's going to run the other way because I'm obviously insane. No, as nice as the thought is, meeting a muggle who's 'the one' is not going to happen.

There were better things to wonder about anyway. Like if the pub on the corner had decent food. He'd deliberately come to Glasgow, where he didn't know anyone. So, he had no recommendations of food or lodging. Gently, he extended his senses, checking for any magical signature. He had no desire to run into any of his fellow witches or wizards. He wanted a holiday free of the baggage that came with being Harry Potter, the man who defeated Voldemort. Feeling nothing, he decided he'd chance it on the food and entered.

%%

Severus was enjoying a leisurely tea with Professor Ramsey, who, ironically, was the Egyptology professor at the university. Nicholas Ramsey was one of the few people Severus didn't mind spending time with. He would even go so far as to call the man friend. Ramsey was a taciturn man who spoke as little as Severus. He didn't indulge in idle chatter for the sake of hearing his own voice. When he did speak however, it behooved a person to pay attention. Severus had learned tremendous amounts of Egyptian history and how it was related to, and intertwined with, events of the current era.

They were sitting in the rear of the pub, with a clear view of the doors. Severus had chosen the table, old habits die hard. So he had and unobstructed view when one of the last people he ever expected to see walked in.

"Bloody hell," Severus breathed out, interrupting Nicholas.

"What?" Nicholas' tone was a bit sharp; he disliked being interrupted, by anyone. "Hells man, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Eyes trained on the man who'd walked in Severus answered quietly, "I have." He shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts. "I apologize my friend. Please, continue." Nicholas gave him an odd look, but picked up where he'd left off.

The bloody Boy Who Lived, all grown up, Severus thought irritably. Well, he's not chasing me out of my favorite pub. He doesn't appear to recognize me however. It'll be my pleasure to ignore him, as he deserves. Reassured of his anonymity he turned his full attention back to Nicholas.

%%

Harry took in the dim interior of the pub. It appeared cozy and welcoming. The cliental looked to be older, which was all to the good as far as he was concerned. Less chance of anyone bothering him.

He made his way to a table near the rear. There were only a few people scattered about, the closest patrons were a pair of professor types two tables over. Just right to insure his privacy.

When the waitress came over, he ordered a pint of the house and whatever the special was. When she left, he pulled a book from his satchel and settled back for some quality time with the Bard. Shakespeare never goes out of style, he mused. A truly immortal man. I wonder if he was a wizard.

The sounds of quiet conversations drifted to his ears. It seemed he was right about the two gentlemen to his left. They were professors; at least they were debating some sort of philosophy. He strained his ears to pick up more, shamelessly eavesdropping.

"I'm telling you Nicholas, I'm right."

"Now, Severus, you may be. I'm not saying you're wrong, only that I'm unsure of the soundness of your premise. Now . . ."

Harry lost track at that point. The name Severus piquing his curiosity. It couldn't be, could it? He didn't think it was a common name, so it was possible. Deciding he had to find out, he surreptitiously looked over at the men. He immediately discounted the man speaking; he appeared short and had blond hair. Not to mention he had a perfectly normal nose, not like Professor Snape's protrubence. The other man however, even with the short respectable hair style and healthy skin color, there was no way to mistake that profile for anyone but Professor Severus Snape.

As the waitress approached with his meal, Harry shook off his shock. No one has seen the man in nearly 14 years and here he is in a pub in Glasgow. His curiosity was running rampant. What was Snape doing here? What happened to him all those years ago? What was he doing now?

Age may not have mellowed his curiosity, but it had taught him patience. The Professor Snape of his youth had detested being interrupted and had no patience for those that dared it. Harry had nothing but time, he could wait to catch the professor on his way out.