Chapter 2
By Deirdre Riordan
At length, the Headmaster broke the silence with a weary sigh. "I suppose all we can do, then, is watch and wait. I must impress upon you both the gravity of this situation. This is clearly Voldemort's work, and whoever his agent is will be watching to see the effects. We must not allow them this satisfaction. I hate to do this, gentlemen, but you are henceforth quarantined to these quarters, at least until we learn more about what's happening."
Severus and Harry exchanged a look of abject horror, perhaps the one sentiment in which they had ever been united in their seven years of association.
"B-but, Headmaster!" Harry spluttered, "What about my friends? They're going to wonder where I am! They'll surely come looking for me! And with all due respect, sir, I don't really think Professor Snape wants me here."
Severus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "You bet your arse I don't want you here," but no one could really be sure.
"What was that, Severus?" asked Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow.
"Nothing, Albus," said the Potions Master with a defeated look. "Are you certain it would not be...safer to quarantine us separately? Potter might be better off in the Hospital Wing. I'm in no mood to play nursemaid." He knew, though, that this battle was already lost.
"Now, Severus, don't be silly. You have vastly more experience with aging potions than Poppy does. And we must keep the knowledge of these events contained as much as possible. If Harry were in the Hospital Wing, any number of people could become privy to the situation. No, I've worked it out, you must both stay here. Harry, don't worry about your friends, I'm going to announce that there was an attempt on your life and you've been taken to a safe house. Severus, I will merely say that you've been taken ill. With the Christmas holidays close upon us, your absence will be much less felt in a few days. This really could not have happened at a better time."
The Headmaster looked just a little too pleased with himself for either Harry or Severus' taste. "But sir, what about my exams?" asked Harry.
Severus scoffed at that. "Certainly you cannot be as concerned as all that, Mr. Potter, if your study habits are any indication."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again directly when he saw the icy look in his professor's eyes. Instead he just glared back.
"Not to worry, Harry. Provided you have no ill effects from the potion, of course, I'll collect your exams and you can take them here, under Professor Snape's supervision."
"Honestly, Albus--" Severus began, but stopped short when his superior held up a hand.
"It won't do to complain, my dear boy. It's all decided. I'll send Harry's things down in a few minutes by Floo. The both of you should rest. If you need something from the House-Elves, contact Dobby, and only Dobby. He and I have an understanding. Alert me immediately to any changes in either of your conditions. Good night, gentlemen." The Headmaster swept out of the room before either of his hostages could utter another word of protest.
Harry sighed and sank down onto one of the lab stools. "I don't believe this," he muttered, more to himself than to Snape.
"Locked up with your 'greasy git' Potions Master for Merlin-knows-how-long, Potter? No, I can't imagine it's your ideal way to spend the holidays."
Harry looked up at Snape in shock. "How did--"
Snape smirked and made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded almost like... a laugh? "I'm not deaf, Potter, I know what you lot say about me. Not that it's anything new."
Harry had the decency to feel ashamed of himself, remembering what he had seen in the Pensieve two years ago. The thought crossed his mind to apologise, but he quickly extinguished it. "Well, I don't suppose you're too bloody thrilled to be stuck with me either."
Snape's mouth twitched in one corner. If Harry didn't know better, he'd have sworn the man was amused. "No, Potter, I don't suppose I am." Beat. "Well, up with you, then, I don't personally want to sit in this laboratory all night," he said, already on his way across the room.
Harry scrambled off the stool and followed his Professor, full of apprehension as to what was on the other side of the door toward which they were headed. When Snape muttered the password and the door opened, Harry almost gasped. Snape's quarters were... nice. The few parts of the walls that weren't obscured by bookshelves were paneled in dark mahogany, and there was a leather sofa and two armchairs arranged in a semicircle in front of a roaring fire. The stone floors were covered in lush, dark green rugs, and a piano sat in the corner.
Seeing Harry's expression, Snape smirked. "You were expecting, perhaps, a torture chamber?"
Harry blushed. "No, sir, I just...well, it's... oh, never mind. It's nice."
"Articulate as always. This, obviously, is the sitting-room. To the left there is the kitchen. Up the corridor is the bathroom. The door next to that is my bedroom, which is off-limits except in some dire emergency. You'll be sleeping in the sitting-room, I suppose. You may transfigure the sofa into a bed if you wish, but do remember to change it back during the day. I won't have you turning my quarters into a pigsty. Any questions, Potter?"
"Yes, sir, just one... have you got anything to eat? I didn't manage to eat very much of my dinner," Harry said somewhat sheepishly.
Snape heaved an exasperated sigh and waved his arm toward the kitchen. "Go and make yourself a sandwich. Just try not to break anything."
Harry made a quick escape into the kitchen. Well, he certainly hoped he wouldn't be locked up with Snape for too long. Though maybe I won't be alone on Christmas this year. The thought surprised him. Neither Ron nor Hermione was going to be staying at Hogwarts this Christmas, and of course Dumbledore wouldn't allow Harry to leave. Was he that desperate already that he actually wanted Snape's companionship? Even a snarky, greasy Potions Master to spend Christmas with is better than no one at all. Harry shook the thought out of his head and pulled a knife from one of the drawers to slice off a piece of bread.
The knife clattered to the floor as pain shot up Harry's arms, through his legs, his head, through every part of his body and he let out a bloodcurdling scream. Snape (who had only experienced an odd tightening sensation on some parts of his body) came running in from the other room to see what was the matter. When he saw Harry, or what he could only assume was Harry writhing on the kitchen floor in pain, he knew the potion had taken effect.
Snape pulled Harry gently to his feet and nearly died of shock. It could have been James Potter standing before him, had it not been for the eyes. He gasped as the image before him caused something to stir in his nether-regions. For Merlin's sake, I thought I'd got over that ridiculous crush years ago! He commanded his body to behave.
Once the pain subsided and Harry's eyes managed to focus, he too did a double take at the man he saw before him. It was Snape all right, but he looked... well, the only word for it was good. The lines on his face were all but gone, as were the dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was a little less pale. It wasn't much, but altogether it had an amazing effect.
"Not bad, Professor," Harry said before he could stop himself. He clapped a hand over his treacherous mouth. Then he heard a strange sound. Snape was laughing. Yes, laughing.
"Why, thank you, Mr. Potter." Snape was just full of surprises tonight!
"Professor, how old am I?" asked Harry, feeling the new sharper lines of his jaw.
"From what I remember of your father, I'd say offhand you're about twenty-five."
Harry followed Snape into the bathroom, where they looked at themselves in the mirror. "What about you, sir?"
Snape scrutinized himself for a moment. "Hmm, I'd say roughly the same as you." He pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself. "Aevum Demonstro." A green '28' appeared in the air between them and then vanished. He did the same to Harry and sure enough, the spell said he was twenty-five.
"So our ages changed so little because we didn't drink much?" Harry asked.
"Correct, Potter. I'm glad to see that you are not entirely incapable of reason." Snape sighed. "I suppose I'll go and call the Headmaster."
Harry stayed in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, mesmerised. He felt as though he were looking at a photograph of his father. He shivered and followed Snape's path into the sitting-room, where Dumbledore was already waiting.
~tbc~