Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else. I'm just a poor student who has nothing better to do than write Snarry when I should be working on my summer projects. And this contains slight HBP spoilers, just to let you know, and of course, slash. This is well past VWII so Harry is of age.

A polite knock on the door to the large study in which he was residing brought the man back to reality, forcing him to abandon his intense research. The man was rather old, having just celebrated his one-hundred eightieth birthday, with a large gut and a bald spot on the apex of his head. He placed a well-worn leather bookmark on the page of the ancient tome he had been reading and set it down on a table near the over-stuffed arm chair he was sitting in and called to whomever was at the door.

"Who is it?" his voice had a slightly annoyed tone to it, as his current research was of the up most importance.

"Sherry, Mr. Gremion," the voice of his timid house-elf answered him.

"Well come in," his replied, impatient. "Now what is it?" he asked, as she entered the room.

"It's Mr. Potter, sir," she explained, her eyes never leaving the carpeting beneath her feet. "He is making a large ruckus and demands to see you. He has nearly destroyed master's favorite vase, if it wasn't for Nimmy it would most certainly be in pieces. Sherry is worried he will break something,"

"Thank you for informing me," Gremion sighed and got up out of his chair. "Go inform the impatient Mr. Potter that I will be with him in a moment," he ordered. "And ask him to please refrain from destroying my home in the interim,"

"Sherry will do what master asks," she said, bowing and disappearing to go relay his message to Harry Potter.

Yves Gremion was not the type of person that you could rush, and that was exactly what Mr. Potter was doing to him. As he waddled to the door of his study he resolved not to be bullied into dropping all of his other projects to work solely on his case. As of yet he had made no progress on the potion that he had been requested to make, and he was doubting that he even would. As quickly as his girth would let him, he shuffled through the hall until he reached the foyer where Mr. Potter was busy yelling at his house elf.

"He isn't even going to come is he?" the man screamed at Sherry, who quickly dodged the clock that he threw at her. "You go back there and tell him that if he doesn't meet with me now-" he picked up a silver candlestick.

"You'll what, Mr. Potter? Hold my candlestick hostage?" Gremion asked, coming into the foyer and removing the item from Harry's hand. As he did so he caught a whiff of the man's breath and detected the unmistakable scent of firewhisky. "You are drunk," he stated, placing one of his hands on the man's back. "Let's go into my office where we can talk about this further,"

"No," Harry replied, shoving Gremion's hand away. "I want you to tell me right now if you've found a cure,"

"Mr. Potter, I think it would be easier for the both of us if you just settle down and we could discuss this like adults," he explained, trying to be patient.

"Tell me right now," he ordered. "Have you found a cure or are you just wasting my time?"

"No, I haven't made any progress," he explained. "But don't think all hope is lost yet," Gremion called out to Harry as he turned to leave.

"Forget it. I'm not paying you anymore," Harry called behind him, nonchalantly, although he was still angry. He walked up to the front door and threw it open, finding satisfaction with the dents he left in it by treating it so roughly. "I'll find someone else to help me,"

"Who are you going to turn to Mr. Potter?" Gremion asked, as Harry left his house. "There isn't anyone else. You've gone to everyone else. No one else will help you,"

Gremion's yelling was in vain as Harry just continued walking out the door and off of his property, mumbling about how useless the former Potions Master was. Gremion had been teaching at Hogwarts quite a while ago and he had gone to him as a last resort. He had been right, he had exhausted the sources of the wizarding world. St. Mungo's couldn't help him, neither could Hermione or anyone else he had gone to for help.

After seven long years of searching for a cure to his ailment he had run out of people to turn to and his Gringott's account was dwindling. The Ministry of Magic had awarded him a reasonable sum of money after the defeat of Voldemort, which was also seven years ago, but he had spent all that money and a good deal of his parent's money to pay various Potions experts and others to try to find a cure. No one had even come close.

Once out of sight of Gremion's house, he apparated to his apartment in Muggle London. It was rather small, and situated over a karaoke bar so it was difficult to sleep most nights; although that wasn't the sole reason. He didn't have a job, his condition made being an auror our of the question, so he just lay down on his couch and tried to sleep since it was the middle of the day and the bar was only open at night.

When he next woke Harry noted with extreme disdain that it was the evening, and the sun would be setting very soon. Unlike most people he dreaded the dusk, the changing colors of the sky brought to him only misery and pain. As the sky performed its dance of red and gold Harry couldn't help but be drawn towards he window to watch. He watched the sun begin its descent behind the buildings of London, with dread.

As soon as the last sliver of the sun vanished from view Harry Potter went through a horrid change. As he writhed in pain, his plain Muggle jeans and shirt turned into black fur which spread slowly over his entire body. His entire body changed, arms becoming paws, nose becoming snout, ears moving to the top of his head and changing shape. The process concluded, and with it the intense pain slowly abated and left Harry looking like your average and normal panther.

His transformations were the reason he had scoured all of the wizarding world to find the best Potions Masters and persuade them to try and help him by using his large bank account. It always failed though, no one could help him and he was at the end of his money, and resources. He was beginning to wonder if he should simple resign himself to living like this, being a human by day and panther by night.

He growled at the thought, and began to pace around the room planning his next move. He knew that there was one person that may be able to help him, although he had resolved to try every single other avenue open to him before seeking out his former Potions Master. In truth he had explored every single other possibility and now he was up to the challenge of finding Severus Snape.

Confident in his plans, which were no more definite at the time than that he would find Snape, he walked over to his bed with its claw gouged mattress and lay down on it. He did not fall asleep immediately. The sounds of drunken renditions of popular Muggle songs kept him awake. It was not until well after midnight that he finally dozed off, only to awaken a few hours later by the dawn and the equally painful reversal of the transformation; leaving him human once more.

The next morning, after downing one of his pre-made anti-hangover potions, he set out to the Ministry of Magic to use some of his resources there, namely Hermione, to get the necessary information needed to find Snape. He had disappeared shortly after the war for reasons unknown. Harry knew it would be difficult to find him without help.

He went out into London and arrived at the alley, covered with graffiti, where the telephone booth that lead to the Ministry of Magic. Repeating the entrance process that he had undergone several times he typed in the correct numbers on the telephone pad (6-2-4-4-2) and was put through to the receptionist, told her his name (Harry Potter) and why he was here (to visit Hermione Weasley) and received the customary silver badge. Once he was inside he navigated through he large underground building until he reached Hermione's office.

Head of the International Magical Office of Law

Hermione Weasley

He knocked on the door lightly.

"Come in," came the voice of his long time friend.

Harry did as she ordered, opening the door and walking into her office. "Are you busy, Hermione?" he asked, noticing that she had a large stack of parchments in front of her.

"Not really," she said, looking up and smiling at him. "I haven't seen you in a while,"

"Well, you have been in Egypt for the past few months," he retorted.

"Any progress?" Hermione asked.

"Actually that's what I wanted to see you about," Harry explained, sitting down in one of the two chairs in her office. "I need you to help me find Snape,"

"You want his help?"

"No, I need his help," he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I fired Gremion. There isn't any one else,"

"I'll try, Harry," she said, sympathetic. "I just can't promise anything. You wont find him if he doesn't want to be found,"

"You make him sound omnipotent," Harry muttered. "He's just a wizard,"

"I'm not making him out to be omnipotent. He's just clever, and most likely would have taken the necessary measures to make sure we can't find him," she sighed "The Ministry of Magic isn't omnipotent either, and neither am I,"

"Just try," he pleaded, knowing that she would try as hard as she could if asked.

"I will," she confirmed. "Just don't expect a miracle,"

"A miracle is exactly what I need. It's what I'm expecting from Snape," he noticed how serious his voice had gotten and smiled to try to lighten up his mood. "How's Arthur?" he asked, referring to Hermione and Ron's first born. They had named him after Ron's father whom had perished in the final battle.

"He's fine, and really giving Ron a handful," she smiled too, relieved to be off of such a dark topic. "His fifth birthday is this Saturday. Are you coming?"

"I'll try," was all he promised. If Hermione told him where he could find Snape before then, he would go there immediately and not attend the party.

"Fair enough," Hermione smiled, recognizing that Harry was throwing her own comment back at her. He hadn't been himself lately, after so many devastating setbacks, and she knew that when he started to do things like that he was feeling better.

"I've got to go," he said, slightly apologetically. "I should leave you to your work," he left without getting a goodbye in return, Harry just walked out and shut the door behind him.

Once outside the Ministry of Magic Harry decided to walk around Muggle London a bit, just to avoid having to go back to his dismal apartment for a while longer. He felt like this was just a temporary phase, and that once this was resolved he could move on with the rest of his life.

It was days before he received the owl containing the necessary information from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

I have discovered where our elusive former Professor is living. It took an enormous amount of detective work to do so. I just hope it can help you with your predicament. There is a Dimidatus Curor Prince, which roughly translates in Latin into Half Blood Prince so I assume it's Snape, living in a village called Currow. His actual address is 10 Abditum Drive. I can't write much more, Arthur is trying to set Ron on fire again.

Your Friend,

Hermione Weasley

Harry smiled, and immediately shoved the piece of parchment in the pocket of his jean jacket. He went around his apartment, gathering the items necessary for a trip to Currow and shoving them in a backpack as he prepared to leave. It didn't take long for him to gather up enough things, he had enough money for the trip, and he could always owl Gringott's for more.

After taking a quick glance around the apartment just to make sure he hadn't forgotten something, he exited it and locked the door behind him. Luckily it was early morning and he could venture a large distance before night came and he had to hide from the prying eyes of Muggles. And so he set out, stopping first to buy a bus ticket that would take him about halfway and then entered a little pub for a bit of breakfast. Apparation was out of the question, since it was near impossible to apparate somewhere you've never been and Harry hated the sensation.

After a shoddily made meal of sausage and eggs, he exited the pub and reached the bus station just in time to catch his bus before he left. It was much cleaner than the Knight Bus, being Muggle transport and some Muggles were picky about stuff like that, but the riders were every bit as strange.

He noticed that there was a group of middle aged women, easily his Aunt Petunia's age, that were seated right behind him. They were giggling and pointing at him, although he tried to appear as if he didn't notice.

"Shouldn't you be in school, boy?" one of them asked, prodding his shoulder with a long and probably manicured nail.

"It is a Saturday," he replied. "And I'm twenty-four," he figured they were trying to flatter him since he certainly did not look like he would still be in school, he most definitely looked twenty-four and several people had accused him of looking even older.

"I'm only thirty-four," another one of them piped up. "And what's ten years?" She was obviously lying about her age, she looked much older than thirty-four.

"All of you are old enough to be my mother," he snickered.

"Well, If I was your mother I would surely slap you for being so rude," the one whom had first spoken said indignantly.

"Good thing you're not my mother then," Harry replied in the rudest tone he could muster, all he had to do was pretend they were Snape.

"I'm sure yours never did a very good job," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. "Raising you to be so rude to your elders,"

"Don't you talk about my mother that way," he jumped out of his seat and turned around to face the woman that had made the statement. "She was a wonderful person. And all I am trying to do it stop a bunch of old hags from hitting on me,"

"Get away from me, boy," the woman said, scooting as far away from him as possible; pushing her friend up against the window.

"Sit back down," the driver called as he stopped the bus along the middle of the highway. "I wont have a fight on my bus,"

"I'm just leaving," Harry said, walking to the front of the bus and just walking off of it. He was only about halfway to halfway to Currow, which translated into that he only had come a quarter of the entire way.

He sighed, here he was standing on the side of the road with only his backpack full of vital supplies and many miles ahead of him to Currow. Harry knew that he only had one option, so he stuck out his wand to signal the Knight Bus. He had avoided wanting to use Wizarding transport since he was still a very popular figure but figured that this time it couldn't be helped.

"'ello," the familiar voice of Stan Shunpike said as the giant purple bus pulled to a quick stop in front of him. "Where to?"

"Currow," Harry answered, climbing onto the bus with his backpack still slung over his shoulder.

"Traveling quite far aren't we, Mr. Potter?" he commented, as he led Harry to one of the chairs situated throughout the bottom level of the bus.

"I'm meeting someone there," Harry explained, taking a seat.

"Alright then, to Currow it is," he discreetly handed Harry the bill, which he quickly paid.

The Knight Bus lurched forward, dashing between cars and narrowly avoiding tipping over on several occasions. Harry barely noticed as his chair slid back and forth as they swerved through traffic, having fallen asleep shortly after they had started moving. It had become his habit to get lots of sleep during the day, taking several naps to accomplish this. Sometimes he wondered if it was due to the fact that he turned into a giant cat every night or if it was due to his lack of proper sleep.

"Mr. Potter," Stan called, kicking Harry's foot. "Wake up, we're in Currow,"

Harry yawned and stretched his arms up above his head. "Right, thanks Stan," he exited the bus, watching as it sped off and eventually disappeared in the distance.

Currow was a small village, with a main street going through it's center and several other less prominent streets radiating off of it. He had made it sufficiently further than he had planned on, he was in Currow with several hours to spare until sunset. Harry wondered when Hedwig would arrive, he had told her that he would be arriving in Currow in two days instead of one. Still, she always seemed to know where he was.

He decided to use that time fully, to locate 10 Abditum Drive as soon as he possibly could. First, though, he would most certainly have to eat. He located a small restaurant, usually it only served the locals since Currow was too small and too far away from anything to be a tourist spot.

The Crow's Feet was a nice small restaurant, the sign announcing its name also made the claim that it had the best pies in the area. Harry didn't suppose that there were many other shops selling pies in the area, so chances are they didn't have much competition. He had a piece with his meal anyway. The sign was right, it was very good.

After getting some food into his stomach, he set off again. He had asked the waitress where Abditum Drive was and found it to be one of those roads leading off of the main one, one on the other side of Currow. This wasn't very far as Currow was not a large village at all, it only had a population of 483 people as stated on the Welcome to Currow sign.

In five minutes he was standing in front of 10 Abditum Drive, the home of his former Potions Professor Severus Snape. It was not a very large house, two stories tall with a front porch that sagged in the middle as did the roof. The windows were grimy all had curtains drawn behind him so Harry couldn't peer in and see if he was actually home.

He cast a glance around him on all sides and, after making sure there was no one watching, he pulled out his wand and said "Alohamora," It had no effect. "Figures, the greasy git must have bewitched it," After coming to this conclusion Harry pulled out the knife that the late Sirius had given him and used that to open the door.

Inside everything was dark, the only light coming in through the curtains which still left the room's atmosphere rather gloomy. It wasn't messy or dirty, it seemed quite nice actually although it had the distinct smell of books. It slightly reminded him of the Hogwarts library , even more so when he ventured into the living room. Every single inch of wall space was occupied by bookshelves. There was also a fireplace with several chairs placed around it with piles of books stacked at their feet.

He bent down to examine them and found they contained titles such as 'The Correct Filleting of the Fennysnake', 'Ancient Potions for the Modern Potion Maker' and 'A Time to Brew: A Look at How the Time of Day that a Potion is Made Effects its Effectiveness'. There were hundreds of similar titles, most of them about Potions with a fair number devoted to the Dark Arts.

As he was perusing the books on the shelf he heard a shrill shriek. "Intruder," a high pitched voice screamed. "It's an intruder," Harry whirled around to see what the voice was coming from. It was a miniature dragon, green in color, that was flying towards him. "Go away," it said, a stream of fire came out of its mouth and caught Harry's sleeve on fire.

"Doso," he muttered, holding his wand to his sleeve and the fire was put out immediately. The tiny dragon kept on trying to set various parts of him on fire. "Immobilus," he said, pointing his want at the dragon, effectively freezing it in thin air. "Pesky little thing," he muttered, walking around it to explore the rest of the house.

As he entered the foyer again, he heard the familiar 'pop' of someone apparating and the also familiar silky voice of Severus Snape. "What are you doing here, Potter? It was said with such disdain that it could only be Snape, and so Harry turned around to see his former Professor standing in front of the door with one of his glares fixed on Harry.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: I'll be away on vacation for the next couple days so it might be a week or so before I can update next. Also, I'm looking for a beta reader, just e-mail me at reminderoflosttimes yahoo. com (take out the spaces) if you're interested.