THE SANDGLASS
By Nenya Entwhistle
Beta'd by Ziasudra and Lesameschelle.
Note: This story has been rearranged from last time and will remain strictly PG-13.
Time is a tricky thing,
It ebbs and it flows,
Where it goes, who knows?
February 12, 2024 (Severus is 64)
Severus: I'm always waiting for him. I waited for him in my youth, and I am still waiting for him. Of course, it's different now, but in a way it's still the same. I anticipate his visits. It takes me out of the static, endless, meandering life I am living. His presence jolts me into remembering that there's a point to life. That there is someone out there who cares. And that I do matter.
December 23, 1998 (Harry is 18)
Harry: "Can I ask you something?
Remus looks up from The Daily Prophet, refolds it, and puts it down on the table next to him. "You know you don't have to ask."
I smile tentatively. I've wanted to ask his advice for weeks, but now that he's finally here my words are trapped in my throat. They've been stuck like this for the past week that he's been here. I should ask, I mean to ask, but I don't know how. Things would be much simpler if I could tell everything. But I can't.
"Do you remember the time when I told you I thought I might be interested in boys rather than girls?" I ask.
"Of course, and I told you I had no problem with that," Remus remarks. "Indeed, I told you I suspected that you did have those inclinations before you even told me."
I nod. "Well…"
"And you're interested in someone now?" he inquires.
My cheeks burn. "I have a hypothetical situation," I begin in a mumble. "What if you know, are absolutely certain that you're supposed to be with someone that you've thought you've hated all your life? And there is no changing it, it simply is. What would you do?"
"You can always change it," Remus says. "It's your life."
"But what if you can't?" I persist.
"Is something wrong?"
I shake my head. He doesn't look convinced, but he gives in and I push on. "Please, answer the question."
He pauses and eventually says, "You make the best of it."
And so I guess I will.
September 17, 1998 (Harry is 18)
Harry: "So tell me, my boy," my Unspeakable says, "do you feel the urge to time travel?"
I don't know what answer he wants. I don't usually feel the impulse to go until I go. Sometimes it's everyday, but lately it's been every few days and that's a good thing. I'm always worn out by the time I come back. He says it's because I'm on double time. What I do in the past or the future, I have used no real time, but time is still used. Minutes and hours.
"I don't feel the tug, no."
"It's more than just the pull that drags you there," he says. "It's like a feeling of unease that builds up in you. That's how you know you have to go soon. You haven't been controlling when you go. You can always go, but it's easier when your body agrees with your mind. When it begins feeling natural, you will be able to stay longer and be the one who makes the decision to leave—not the magic."
"But isn't that like controlling time?"
"No," he answers curtly. "You do not control it and will never have control over when you'll return. Sometimes minutes will have passed; sometimes just seconds; other times you'll discover it's been days."
"What… what's it like to stay a long time somewhere other than here?"
My Unspeakable hums with amusement. "You assume that my present is your own, do you not?"
"Isn't it?"
"No, Harry, it isn't."
I leap to an idea, a sudden inspiration. "Do you come from the future? Do you know how to win the war? Is that why you know my life case is Severus? Can you tell—"
The words are taken from my mouth by some kind of wandless magic. My lips are moving, but no sound comes out. I stare at him with wild eyes. I plead with him to tell me what's going on.
"You must never ask that question to any of the time travelers," he says in a cold voice. "Do you understand me?"
I nod, still unable to speak.
"People have killed for less," is all he says before he releases the spell.
July 21, 1971 (Harry is 20, and Severus is 11)
Severus: "I'm leaving for Hogwarts soon." I stand with a hand placed on the tree for some support against the heady changes that will be coming. I'm looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. When I go, does that mean I won't see Drogo anymore?
"That's wonderful," he says. "Have you bought your school supplies yet?"
"Not yet," I answer. The truth is, I don't have the monetary means to buy anything. Father says he'll scrape enough galleons before school starts, and it's coming too soon. But I believe he'll follow through. A Snape never breaks his word.
"Are you looking forward to it?"
"Yes." Then I shrug. "Sometimes."
"The books," he remarks. "You'll love the Library."
Yes, it'll be an improvement over the ruin of the one here. "I believe I will."
"So why only sometimes?" he asks like a nosy ghost.
I look at him and then glance away. I wonder at times if he can read my mind. He seems to know me far too well and yet other times it seems like he is just getting to know me. He's an odd one.
"I don't know." I scrape my shoe against the grass, smashing them into the ground. "It's going to be a big change."
"But a good one, I think. You'll finally make some friends your age."
I shrug. "I think friendship is overrated."
My ghost jerks his head and I see that he's more than a tad upset. Drogo really is too sensitive for someone who's dead. He should learn to control his expressions more. It's a disgrace that a pureblood wizard would be so undignified.
"Sometimes, in the times of danger and mistakes," he says softly, "you'll want someone who will help you."
"To ask for help is weakness," I retort.
"What if it is freely given?"
"Then that is worse!" I snap. "Then they think you cannot do things on your own! That you are incompetent, incapable."
He glides over until he's almost diffusing into me. "Severus, promise me you will at least try to make friends with some people. They really aren't so bad… if you try to get along with them. Don't judge them too harshly. You might regret it later."
I bend down and pick up a rock, throwing it as hard as I can. It only flies for a few feet before it plunges to the earth. I glare down at my bony, weak arms. I must get stronger. I must not let anyone see my weaknesses. I might not be tall or big, but I know enough curses to make any child fear me.
"Severus," Drogo calls, "will you listen to me?"
I ignore him and head over to the part of the field where I've planted some ingredients I've been using in my potions experiments. For the most part, they're growing well—but some aren't doing as well as they should. It won't matter soon. I'll be heading away from here, and my plants will die.
"Severus," he says, "I have something important to tell you."
I want to tell him to go away, but I don't dare. It could be months if I say that.
"Listen to me." He deliberately pushes his hand through me. Cold air seeps into my body and I turn to him with a scowl. "Sorry about that." But he doesn't sound the least bit apologetic. Opportunistic ghost. "When you go to Hogwarts," he says and I feel dread creeping into my blood, "I cannot follow you there. It is… too far for me."
"But…"
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and this time he means it.
November 11, 1998 (Harry is 18, and Severus is 38)
Severus: "Snape!" the irritating menace calls, as I hasten to depart after another meeting. The numbers of Order meetings have steadily increased until we're meeting every week, and sometimes even twice in a week. It means spending more and more time with the fools with whom Albus hopes to win the upcoming war with. "Professor, please wait. Snape… I just want to talk to you." But I do not want to talk to him. Alas, the idea eludes his pitiful brain. "Will you hold on?"
How dare he take such a tone with me? As if I owe him anything. I've done my job, saving his life thrice over what his poor excuse for a father did for me. I've repaid my debt. I have no obligation to him any longer. He can take care of himself now that he is out of Hogwarts, and if he doesn't—I'm sure his friends will.
"Snape, please..." he pleads. It would have been more effective if he had not grabbed onto my arm at the same time. "I just want to talk."
I stare down at the fingers wrapped near my elbow. "If you want to talk," I snap, "I would suggest you let go of my personage."
"Only if you don't walk away."
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "Fine, Potter." He lets go and I cross my arms. "Now what is it that you want?"
He bites his lip like an uncertain child. In some ways he has grown up, and yet in others he remains a juvenile. "Why do you hate me so much?"
If there was a question to expect, that was certainly not it. Considering his ineptitude in the art of polite conversation, I am not surprised that he chose such a blunt opening. He still needs to acquaint himself with the decorum properly brought up wizards are expected to have. Unfortunately, his friends—the Granger witch and that Weasley boy—are hardly stellar examples of good wizarding backgrounds.
"Why?"
I level my eyes at him. "I think you are perfectly capable of answering that yourself."
"I am not my father," he retorts. "You should know that."
I do. He is not his father, but it's the fact he has his father's blood that I find dislikable. Still he is not the carbon copy of James Potter I had previously presumed, and I cannot hate him as much as I would like.
"What is the point of this pretense at conversation, Potter?" There has to be a reason he approached, and somehow I know it's not because of this question. I hardly want to admit it, but I do know the boy's mind well. I had to, teaching him to be a sufficient Occlumens. "For I trust, even for you, there must be one. You might as well get to it. You are wasting my precious time."
Potter steps toward me. If he was a man more of Lucius Malfoy's height, I might have been impressed. Instead, by stepping closer, he only appears more beneath my gaze. "In the end of this, if there will be an end," he says, "it will only happen because we have a united front against him. If we can't work together, can't get past the past—then he wins."
He steps back and walks off. I can't help thinking that he's right.
September 31, 1998 (Harry is 18)
Harry: "How do you know so much about Unspeakables?" I inquire.
He blinks his ever twinkling eyes. "There is little that I haven't heard about," Albus remarks. "You always learn everyday, and I am a good deal older than you."
"You are," I concede. I would like to know how old, but it's hardly something to ask someone as old as he is. "But for someone who's only heard about Unspeakables, you seem to know a great deal about them."
"As you yourself do," he points out.
I feel my cheeks burn. "But I—" I stop speaking when I realize what I'm about to say.
"But what, my boy?"
My eyes widen and I wonder… "Are you one too?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Are you an Unspeakable?" I ask.
He re-adjusts his slipping frames. "If I were, would I tell you?"
No, and if he weren't—the same scenario—Albus likes that kind of ambiguity. He says it's what makes things more flexible, never giving clear answers until absolutely necessary. He calls it biding his time, and he worries that I'll never learn it. I wonder if he thinks of me as his protégé. If he does, he will be sorely disappointed. I am… nothing like him and I don't think I ever will be.
I'm not that amiably cunning.
September 9, 1998 (Harry is 18)
Harry: It takes me a few days to get un-queasy about the idea of me and Snape. Then I realize if I'm with him, that means I'm gay—and I look at Hermione, who is sitting across the table and laughing, and I wonder if she's unattractive to me. She's not repulsive and has certainly gotten prettier since she's grown up, though it's not like she was ugly before.
Ron pokes me and Hermione asks, "Why are you staring at me like I have two heads?"
I blush and avert my eyes to my fish and chips. "Sorry," I mumble. "Just thinking."
"Well, you don't have to apologize for that," she remarks. "So how's Auror training?"
"It's been great," Ron says and gets promptly smacked on the hand for that.
"I don't mean you, silly boy," she retorts. "I already know what you think about it, but I wanted to ask Harry."
I smile. Those two are just meant for each other, aren't they? I wonder if they've finally made it official. They did have dinner together, just the two of them, a few weeks ago when I conveniently decided not to show up. I always thought they would get hitched coming out of Hogwarts, but they haven't even gotten around to dating yet.
If Snape and I are together in the future, I would like to think that there's a couple like Ron and Hermione out there. If two people who hate each other can be together, shouldn't two that are crazy about each other be as well? I sigh and pick up a chip and pop it into my mouth. I must be gay. I slide my eyes over to Ron, watching his throat muscles work as he chews his food. It's not sexy; then again, I've never tried to look at Ron as more than a brother.
Ron has to prod me out of my thoughts once again. "Hey, are you going to answer?"
My eyes flicker up and I desperately try to remember what she was asking, but I'm busy processing that I have to be gay and I never consciously realized it. I try to think back to Hogwarts, trying to remember if I ever looked at a guy and thought he looked good. I probably have, but not in a sexual way. It was just, that guy looks nice today in the way that some guys always do, like Draco Malfoy. But that's not resounding proof, is it?
I crunch another chip. I must be, if I ended up with Snape. Actually, the kiss wasn't so bad. It's better than the one with Cho by far, and better than the few others I've had with others. It was sadly… the best kiss I've ever had.
"So Harry, how's Auror training?" Hermione asks again.
"Uh," I choke and have to take a gulp of water. "I'm sorry," I gasp and my cheeks burn. "I don't know what's up with me today."
"It's all right," she says soothingly, and I catch the way she sends a look at Ron in the sly. "The training's been going well, hasn't it?"
"It's been hard," I respond, forcing myself not to think of Snape at all. "But good. I'm learning a lot, and I'm sure it'll be useful for the future." I smile and push my plate aside. "So is the Ministry job everything you thought it would be?"
She returns the smile. "It's a good deal more restricting than I thought, but it makes sense. Changes will always happen slowly, and it's not like I can revolutionize how things are done instantaneously. But the way we integrate magic with Muggle technology really needs to speed up and be more efficient. There are so many resources out there that we can utilize for the better. I just hope it happens soon."
I nod and then just have to ask: "So when are you going to tell me you two are dating?"
Heremione's eyes widen comically and her eyes flicker to Ron as his does to hers. "Whatever makes you think that—oh, you prick!" she exclaims and from the way Ron yelps, I guess she kicked his shins hard. "You still haven't told him yet?"
I turn to him. "Told me what?"
Ron swallows hard, his throat muscles twitching. "I'm… uh, dating Luna."
"What? When? How?" My eyes go back and forth between the two of them. "I thought you two were like supposed to be."
"Why do you think that?" Hermione asks. "Because Ron used to have a small crush on me? And that he used to show it by arguing with me like a bloody nuisance?"
"Yes!"
Hermione bursts out laughing. "Harry, you're so bad at reading the situation. Ron has never had a crush on me. He treats me like a sister, which is why he's such a prat—"
"Hey!" Ron calls. "I resent the name calling."
Hermione shrugs. "Besides, Luna's perfect for him. If Ron and I were together," she says, wrinkling her nose, "we would probably self-destruct. I can't even begin to imagine us together. However did you?"
"But what about the time you and him were getting together, just the two of you? What about the time I left you two to eat dinner alone?" I sputter.
"Oh that," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Would you like to tell him, or shall I?"
Ron's unsurprisingly red like a tomato. "You see, the two of us, well—when we were together that is… she was helping me plan how I was going to court Luna. Because, really, I have no idea and asking my brothers isn't any good. Can you imagine what the twins would do? Percy's such an arse, and Bill and Charlie are gone."
"What about me?"
If possible Ron turns redder. "I… um—"
"I think he just needed some advice from a girl as to what girls like," Hermione answers.
"Oh," I respond and then grin brightly. "So does that mean you and Luna are together?"
Ron ducks his head. "Not quite," he mutters. "We've gone out twice already, but I still can't quite pop the question to make it official yet. I didn't think it'd be so bloody hard, but… it is."
"Well… good luck." I slap his back in good humor. "Luna's a great girl."
"Yeah," Ron says almost dreamily, "she is."
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Don't get him started about Luna this and Luna that. I've heard enough."
I laugh. "So what about the Chudley Cannons?"
She shoots me a grateful look as Ron eagerly switches to one of his most verbose topics. "This season they might actually have a chance to make it to…"
My thoughts drift off, though I occasionally make a remark to keep Hermione from having to say too much about a topic she's relatively ignorant about. But what I'm really thinking about is… I thought the two of them were perfect. And they say they aren't. And I never considered Ron and Luna, much as I never considered the possibility of me and Snape.
October 11, 2006 (Harry is 26, and Severus is 46)
Severus: "You stupid, stupid boy," I hiss at his unconscious form. "You had to go on that dangerous mission. You had to step in front of that curse meant for Weasley. You had to be the fucking hero.
"You're just lucky it was only a Blasting Spell." I reach out with my hand and touch his cheek. "What if it had been something else? What if it had been Avada Kedavra? You aren't invincible, Harry, and you should know that. I've told you often enough. Don't risk yourself unnecessarily! Don't go out trying to kill yourself! Do you understand me, you imbecile?"
Because you have to stay here.
TBC
A/N: I really do appreciate all the reviews and it's just gives me fuzzy feelings to know people are taking the time to review it; after the effort my betas (who do through 2 edits for me) and I go through to get this out. Not to mention the hours it takes to write this. Thank you so much!
So any thoughts of predestined love? And what will happen?
Thanks to Clodia (Snape's always fun to write; he's one of my favorite characters), Silverthreads (), Lisa13 (K thousand), Khronos (I don't actually have a life if you consider all I do is write fiction, freelance for a magazine, and take MCAT classes. I have the bad tendency to rank my stories based on readers/reviewers. Alas I have other stories that are much more popular and take far less effort to write), Rowana S (you should get a chapter you haven't read in the next go I think), Dark Avalon (nonlinear is bloody hard to write. I've done it thrice and I'm still struggling with it. Thanks for your review and I'm blushing if you must know), darkess-knight (Letting me know is a great thing), toolazytosignin (You're so wonderful to review more than one chapter at a time. Drogo/Severus/father is an interesting dynamic, I'll agree), Carey Miles (I think Harry's been an Unspeakable in other stories, but not quite like this. He seems to stay in another time period instead of switching back and forth), Dragon Smile (War's not an easy thing to write).
