Disclaimer: The thing about fanfiction is its fan fiction. Go figure.

Pairings: Harry/Draco, James/Lily. Any others will be noted in later chapters.

Summary: Following an escaped Death Eater brings Harry 20 years into the past. As Harry searches for him inside Hogwarts, Harry learns just how the world he lives in came to be- and what it still has left for him.

Everything you think you know baby is wrong
And everything you think you had baby is gone
Certain things turn ugly when you think too hard
And nagging little thoughts change into things you can't turn off
Everything you think you know baby is wrong

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black I'm sick of trying
Said too much and now I'm done
It's all over but the crying

It's All Over but the Crying, Garbage

Lesson plan finished, Harry dropped the quill onto his spare parchment, watching uncaringly as the black ink dribbled onto the crisp cream. He frowned- it was taking up most of his time just trying to keep up his work as a professor. He had yet to get any leeway on the missing Death Eater. That thought worried Harry.

Harry stood, slowly, groaning as he felt each vertebrate fall into place until he was standing straight. Letting out a long breath, he arched his back, pulling his arms behind his head. He stifled a yawn- he had hoped to get some sort of direction on his mission tonight. Instead, he found himself refining lesson plans for the next week. At this rate, Harry was afraid he would get caught up in his duties as a professor and procrastinate on the real reason he was here.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered why he, of all people, was asked to go on this mission. Of all the possible choices, Harry had to be the most risk. He was a key factor in the burgeoning war, the son of two current students and godchild of another, as well as the one person any Death Eater would recognize. His connection with Voldemort himself didn't do him much good either. But Harry had faith in Dumbledore- as conniving as the Hogwarts Headmaster could be, he had good intentions. Harry just had to trust in him- something he'd been doing a lot the past few years.

Harry dropped back on the sofa, reluctant to start his trek towards the four-poster bed. He knew that once his head hit the pillow, the visions would start. Instead, he leaned over the plush arm, shuffling through some paperwork detailing the rules and regulations of his assignment. It seemed so clear on paper. Pose as a professor while keeping an eye out for the missing Death Eater. Harry knew it wouldn't be so easy. Everything always seemed as black and white on paper as the ink seemed against the parchment. If only things were so simple.

Eyes drooping, Harry reread the report on the break-in into the Department of Mysteries. Time-Turners were some of the most restricted magical objects by the Ministry- the fluidity of time would be endangered by the most mild of changes. Because of this, the smaller Time-Turners, capable of going back by the hour, were carefully bestowed on a select few. The larger Time-Turners, capable of going months, and even years, into the past were locked away- as much for the safety of the general public as protection against misuse. As Time-Turners were only capable of going back in time, misuse of a larger Time-Turner could be disastrous- the user could be stuck years in the past with no way to return. Because of this, when one of the larger Time-Turners was stolen from the Department of Mysteries, the Ministry was in turmoil. It took four months before any progress was made on the case.

It was found in a raid on the Malfoy Manor. Several Death Eaters, including Lucius himself, had escaped Azkaban. They had gathered in the dungeons in the Malfoy Manor- information that was leaked to the Order by one Draco Malfoy. Harry had been surprised the Death Eaters had taken such a risk as going somewhere as obvious as the Manor, but the situation was made even more puzzling at the Order's arrival. None of the convicted Death Eaters had resisted arrest- they had, in fact, willingly given their wands up to the Aurors surrounding them. So shocked were the Aurors by their surrender, no one had noticed Troy Nyle's escape until it was too late.

No one knew why he had used a Time-Turner to flee, or why he chose that particular point in time to retreat to. The Ministry kept strict watch over their Time-Turners since the beginning of the war- finding the time period and area Nyle traveled to was simply a matter of tracing the one he had stolen. As for the reason behind the time period, everything was left to speculation. The only certainty was that whatever Nyle's mission was Voldemort had given it to him personally before Voldemort's death.

The following days had been torture. After Lucius' arrest- the third time- Harry had spent hours calming Draco as he alternated between ranting his hate for his father and holding him as he wept over his betrayal to his only remaining kin. In the end, Lucius was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. Harry held Draco's hand as that black abyss of a mouth slowly sucked the life out of his father- freeing and chaining them both for good. Draco had clutched his fingers so hard he had to take a bone-mending potion from Pomphrey. He'd never told him. After what he'd put Draco through, it seemed so trivial.

Come to think of it, after the war, a lot of things seemed trivial.

But not Draco. Harry's throat clenched. No matter what he began thinking about, it always came back to his pale-haired lover. Looking at the grandfather clock in his quarters, he was unconcerned to see it was well after three in the morning. His trouble in falling asleep was only rivaled by his inability to stay asleep. He was constantly plagued with nightmares, as he had been since first year. Six years later, they had only gotten worse. He had hoped that after Voldemort's death, the nightmares and the visions would have slowly trickled away. Instead, they'd doubled in the Dark Lord's absence. He felt as if some burden that had been shared between him and the Dark Lord had fallen solely on him upon his death.

There were a lot of things Harry thought- or at least hoped- would end at the downfall of Voldemort. Strangely, very little had changed. The stares, the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the self-doubt and loathing. Things he'd hoped would just trickle away had formed rapids that churned in his stomach. If it wasn't for the blonde, Harry didn't know where he would be right now.

Harry glanced back at the bed, eyelashes begging to rest on tan cheeks. Despite his bodies' complaints, he couldn't bear to get into the bed. While burrowing underneath a thick cocoon of cotton with Draco was bliss, lying in the hollow silk of the Hogwarts bed sheets alone was torture. The thought of soft, pale flesh sprawled over his chest made his throat constrict. The mental image of his blonde-haired beauty sweating under their covers didn't go unnoticed by certain parts of Harry's body. On the contrary, these particular areas were doing their best to get the raven-haired teenager's attention.

Harry didn't like to masturbate. It seemed so hollow- and yet in times like this, he always found his hand subconsciously moving between his legs. It had been so long since he'd needed this. It stung him to feel it again; the knowledge that what was to come was only a necessity, not a want. His body was taught and his mind wasn't following any set pattern. He needed to relax. He needed something familiar.

He lay back on the leather sofa, watching the white ceiling as he slowly opened the button of his jeans, unzipping them before pushing them down to his ankles. His hands found the waistband of his boxers, and they too were pushed down his legs. He didn't look towards his feet- he didn't want to think of his lovers' absence.

His hand felt cold along the skin of his cock. His fingers were slow, reluctant, yet relishing each shiver they sent up his spine. If he closed his eyes tightly, and touched himself just right, he could imagine it was Draco's hand holding him, fingertips barely touching in a sweet caress as they traveled up and down the length- but no, Draco's hands were softer, thinner. They were fire that licked his thighs. His hands were ice.

He didn't want this. But he did. He grasped the length roughly with his left hand, started a fast pace, wanting to finish. He found he couldn't relish the touches anymore- only the release. The touching only made him lose his nerve. He couldn't stop thinking of Draco.

His left hand reached down to his balls, grasping them tightly in time with the thrusting of his other hand. He bit his lip, images flashing through the black space before his eyes. Draco rubbing into him, thrusting with him. Draco's hot mouth around him. Draco as his muscles clenched around him. Draco, Draco, Draco- his name flashed before his eyes. He could smell him on his hands, his hair, imagined the plush sheets were his hands; his fingers sliding up his back. His left hand traveled lower, carefully touching his opening, slightly intimidated by what he had in mind.

His teeth found his lip and burned through the skin. Blood dripped along his lips- the coppery taste leaked down his throat. One rough, calloused finger caressed the skin before slowly sliding in. Tight. So very tight. He groaned, eyes clenched tightly, fending off that nothingness that threatened to spill over.

Flashes of blond tresses, soft in his fingers as he forced the head back, revealing that silky neck- muscles clenching around that same finger, deliciously- that tongue caressing him right there-

His right hand clenched harder, faster, Harry slowly easing another finger inside the puckered skin. It began to hurt, the skin stretching. It stung more than it ever had when Draco was doing it- the pain ripped up through his nerves. His right hand moved faster as Harry tried to ignore the pain. He moved his fingers faster, deeper inside of him, trying to find that one spot that made all the pain go away.

He could feel the sofa dip as someone slowly straddled him. The feel of skin along his own was almost too much. He thrust into himself faster as his right hand continued its grueling pace. And then another hand joined it, slowing it to a churning molasses that seemed to burrow into his chest.

The silken hand stilled his fingers that were practically tearing him apart from the inside out. They were pulled out, gently, and then pushed above his head. And then the hand around his cock was pushed over his head too, and the stranger, Draco, brought his bleeding lips up for a savage kiss. Tongues slick, caressing the roof of Harry's mouth, exploring the line of his teeth before trying to wrap itself around Harry's own tongue.

Draco's hands held the length of his cock now, still. Even without moving, Harry could barely stop himself from coming. He needed it, but he couldn't let it end yet. Whether real or a dream, he needed the other man for more than the touches- as amazing as they were.

But then Draco broke the kiss, the hand was moving, and Harry wouldn't have it any other way. The silken skin roughly grasped at him as if he were drowning, harshly pulling down all the way to the tip before flitting up the length- barely even touching him. Harry threw back his head, moaning his name with mouth opened wide. His words didn't make any sense anymore- he didn't care. As long as his voice told Draco how much he needed this.

And then he was coming, all over his stomach and the black leather of the sofa, and for just one moment he could feel Draco inside of him- and he clenched around the one he wanted to wrap his arms around too tightly and never let go-

His eyes opened to the empty room. The waves of his orgasm crashed into him with the weight of his loneliness.

It wasn't Draco. Draco was in Dumbledore's office twenty years from now, waiting for him to return. He looked down at his hand, still clenched around his length. It was covered in the thick white slime- he never liked the sight of his own cum. It disgusted him. He could feel his other hand knuckle deep inside of him- somehow he'd added two more fingers without realizing it. A sharp pain centered on his tailbone and inched its way up his spine.

With a frown, he felt a hot liquid flowing down the hairs of his hand. He pulled them out, his frown deepening. Blood. He'd been too distracted to register the pain- now that he was coming off his orgasm, he could feel the distinct throbbing along his lower back.

Biting his lip, Harry set his head back. He would have to get a potion to heal himself later. For now, he was content to dwell in the pain. Eyes stinging, he let his thoughts stray back to the blonde who'd done this to him. At this rate, he doubted he'd even find Nyle before the year was over. Now in a thoroughly put out mood, Harry began to wonder if his supposed escape to Hogwarts was a ruse, and he was really reporting to the Dark Lord as he sat contemplating how to get into his boyfriend's pants upon his return.

The wardrobe crashed loudly on its side in the hollow room, causing the gathering students to jump. The wardrobe had sprung alive as the students had begun to filter in for class, and spent the following ten minutes dancing across the floor- barely avoiding several students who came too close. For some reason, James expected it to suddenly sprout legs. At least then there would be a reason for the rickety old wardrobe to be moving.

It had stopped its clumsy jig after tipping too far over to the right- falling onto its side. The last sound of its resistance to being cooped up in the musty classroom reverberated like a chime throughout the room. James mused on how good their new professor was at making a statement. He respected that- after all, wasn't that what all their pranks had been about? Of course, that meant all the more reason to show this new addition to the Hogwarts staff what a reputation the marauders had. Turning the older man purple and causing his chair to dance was amusing, but nowhere near the sophistication of the marauders usual pranks. It was so very first year. Remus was still angry about being conned into the role of the distraction. Normally, he wouldn't have dreamed of making Remus do such a role. James blamed it on the curse- if they hadn't been so caught off guard by the professors techniques, James was sure they could have come up with something much more brilliant. He made a note to himself to put the new DADA professor on top of his people-to-prank-list.

The chairs and desks were all pushed to the side, and said professor watched his students with an almost maniacal grin on his face. James had to suppress a snicker as he imagined the plain haired man suddenly cackling like a madman. He seemed way too excited about a bouncing wardrobe. For a student, bringing a rickety old wardrobe to life would be incredibly amusing. On a professor, it was almost disturbing.

Almost.

Satisfied that he had the students' attention, Harry stepped closer to the wardrobe, performing a quick levitation charm to bring the wardrobe back onto its base. This seemed to spur the dancing wardrobe on, as it began its racket with a vengeance, and Harry had to yell to be heard over the noise.

"As you can see, we will be using this session to work on the practical uses of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Does anyone have any guesses on what's in the wardrobe?"

He knew this was cheap. He hadn't wanted to do this lesson for the simple reason of being unoriginal, but Remus had been adamant. The werewolf had looked at him with a half smile; simply stating "that was the lesson that inspired me to teach."

Thinking on it, Harry wasn't sure who deserved credit for it. He learned it from Remus, and Remus learned it from him. Neither was sure who thought of it first- and that was how it would stay.

The familiar silence- minus the banging of the wardrobe- filled the classroom. Harry quickly lost his patience.

"This shouldn't be a hard question, you're all sixth years! You should know this by now."

The silence pursued, students blinking owlishly. Harry let out a heated sigh.

"Here's a hint. Many of you may have found one in a darker area of your home, perhaps a closet that hasn't been used often?"

It was Snape who raised his hand. Harry stared at the young Potions Master. This was his first time addressing him- he was wary of how it would turn out. His own first impression of the Potions Master in his first year had been disastrous. As much as he wanted to, he refused to make as bad an impression as Snape had on him.

"Yes, Mr. Snape?"

The git smirked. Harry wanted to strangle him.

"I do believe it is a boggart professor. Anyone who's lived in a magical home must know that." His nose flew at that- Harry could practical hear him adding on any pureblood at least. The thought made him want to lurch. There was always going to be a Malfoy at any point in Hogwarts. Ignoring the fact that he was currently involved with one.

"That is correct, Mr. Snape, 10 points to Slytherin. This wardrobe contains a boggart that was found in one of the old rooms in the dungeons. Usually boggarts are handled in Care of Magical Creatures, but I felt this corresponded with our current lesson. Rather than dispose of it, I felt it would be prudent for each student to encounter one. Essentially, you will be facing your fear." Harry paused to levitate the wardrobe again- it had strayed too close to the cowering students. He didn't want any injuries this early in the year.

"Some of you may think you fear nothing," he glanced at the marauders who were chuckling and staring pointedly at James, "We shall see about that."

"Next question, who knows why boggarts are considered dark creatures?"

Snape raised his hand, glaring back at the rest of the student body. Harry completely ignored him this time- he didn't want one person, Slytherin or not, answering every question. To Harry's surprise, it was Peter who raised his hand, arm shaking.

It had taken Harry every bit of restraint to stop from staring daggers at Peter Pettigrew upon the students' arrival. The hate he'd fostered for the man since his third year had nothing short of bloomed into full loathing for the rat. Seeing him young, loved, and alive had been hard to handle, no matter how much he prepared for it.

After getting over his initial hatred, Harry had tried to separate the boy Peter from the man Pettigrew. The older man who Harry knew well was Pettigrew, a traitorous rat that deserved every bit of pain Harry had taken pleasure in inflicting on the man- though admitting it unnerved him. Peter, however, had yet to do wrong. He was innocent on all accounts, and didn't deserve to be treated as the criminal he would become.

It was hard, at first. Every time he saw the boy, he saw him standing over him in that dark graveyard, the Dark Lord's loyal servant. It infuriated him. All he had to do was one simple spell- he could even make it look like an accident. He would never betray his parents, Voldemort would never return, and Sirius would still be alive. He would have lived a life where he was loved. If only things were so simple.

Bringing himself from his thoughts, he looked the young man in his eyes, hoping his own didn't betray him.

"Yes, Mr. Pettigrew?"

He said the name with more spite than he'd intended, judging from how the boy twitched. Though that could just be how he is.

" Well, th-the boggarts they, well, they turn into whatever it is that you- er, well, the person that's opening the door, or whatever it is that they're doing, sometimes they're not behind a door, but anyways… ummm, yes, they turn into what the person fears the most, P-Professor Cutter, s-sir." He said all this quickly, as if he'd lose his nerve if he didn't. The words were so jumbled many of the students still seemed confused. The Slytherins, more specifically Snape and what Harry now referred to as his "minions," were snickering behind their hands. James and Sirius, standing behind Peter, seemed about ready to snicker themselves. Remus looked at him with a mix of pride and pity- a strange expression to witness.

Harry frowned, confused. This wasn't what Harry had imagined what Peter would be at all. He'd imagined arrogance, snide remarks, gloating, anything more loathsome than the red faced embarrassment smeared across his face. It reminded him far too much of… well, himself. In the back of his mind, he had hoped Peter would do something wrong so he wouldn't feel guilty for that hatred that was still buried inside of him. Instead, he pitied him. And yet, Harry felt he could hate him for that.

Nevertheless, right now he was first and foremost a professor. Professors couldn't hate their students. Though his heart didn't feel up to it, he sent a pointed glare at the amused Slytherins before steeling his gaze to look at the young man.

"Yes, that's correct, Mr. Pettigrew. 10 points to Gryffindor. Boggarts are able to sense what our worst fears are, and bring it to life by transforming themselves." The snickering died down to whispers at this, and Peter looked less like a cherry.

A young Gryffindor, blond haired and timid, raised her hand and began to speak before Harry had a chance to call on her.

"Professor, other creatures can do something like that, but they're not considered dark creatures. What's the difference?"

Harry smiled, slightly miffed at being interrupted, but continued. "Good question, Miss Abbott. Yes, some creatures will similarly transform or bring up memories of one's fears. However, boggarts don't just transform for their own protection. That is why they are considered dark creatures- they feed on fear. That is why they appear in dark places- cupboards, wardrobes of course, and, at times, the entire house itself can be occupied by a boggart. No one has ever seen a boggart's true form- some wonder if they have one at all. But back to today's lesson. Today, you will each come face to face with the boggart."

Harry didn't give the students a chance to react before he moved to the door of the wardrobe. The boggart seemed to have calmed a bit- something that would soon change. He was suddenly worried- this boggart was considerably more feisty than the one he had approached in third year. Then again, that was third year. Sixth years were bound to be more advanced. He began to unlock the many bolts, calling instructions over his shoulder.

"The trick to defeating a boggart is very simple. Mr. Pettigrew, would you please step forward? We'd be honored if you would be the first to approach it."

Unlocking the last bolt with a sharp click, Harry turned back to the now paled boy. He was almost ashamed at the sick satisfaction at having the boy at his mercy. The wardrobe creaked open slowly. The class backed up, leaving the now shaking Peter isolated in front of the crowd.

He was trembling. His teeth clamped painfully over his bottom lip, chewing it until it became raw. Harry could practically see the sweat trailing down his forehead. His hair began to stick to his cheeks, his face becoming a sickly hue.

Looking at him, Harry suddenly wished he could close the door. He was in the cupboard under the stairs, staring terrified through the slits in the door, watching as lights flickered in the dark like fireflies. Dudley had told him monsters came out in the dark and ate little black-haired green-eyed boys. He had believed him.

Maybe Peter wasn't as different from him as he thought. Harry was disgusted with himself. These children had never seen war before- they were innocent. And yet, he was already passing judgment. He'd been doing exactly what he'd faulted others for doing his whole life- hating and worshiping Harry Potter and never trying to get close to just Harry.

Belatedly, he realized the boggart would be emerging any moment, and he'd yet to reveal the spell. He spoke clearly, making sure each student heard and understood.

"The trick is simple. As horrible as whatever may come out of this wardrobe may be, there is something funny in everything. You just have to find it." Harry smiled reassuringly at the young boy, something he strangely found easier to do.

"The word is riddikulus. I trust you can figure it out from there?" As the door came to a slow stop, now completely ajar, Peter himself seemed less inclined to believe he could do much more than whimper.

What appeared from the dark of the wardrobe shouldn't have surprised Harry. A long, thick, sleek serpent slowly slithered across the classroom floor, dust flitting into the air in its wake. In the back of his mind, something clicked. It approached the lone Peter leisurely, calculating.

Peter backed away, turning back to his friends for reassurance. Though James often found Peters inherent cowardice amusing at times, the boy was beyond afraid. He was terrified. He knew what his friend had to be thinking. It was just like before. And this time, he couldn't help him.

The snake raised its upper body skyward, long tongue tasting the air as it fixed its cold gaze on the young boy. Staring into those stone eyes, he couldn't keep his thoughts together.

Grass, Snake, Tail, Teeth, Run, No! Keep away! Please, Remus! Sirius! James! Help!

He froze, the snake swaying leisurely before him, playing with him. He could do no more than stare into those eyes, lulled into his fear.

Harry frowned. It was taking too long. He had overestimated him- something he never thought he'd say about the rat. Now that his pity had turned to frustration, he found himself associating Peter with Pettigrew again. This only annoyed him more. He raised his wand, ready to strike if the boggart got too close.

Peter couldn't steer his eyes away. The memory that had begun to fade re-emerged with frightening lucidity.

It had happened last year, a few weeks after they had mastered the spells to become animagi. They had been testing their abilities on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, Peter riding on Sirius' back as he chased after James- now a graceful stag. He'd been caught off guard as Sirius made a sharp turn, ducking behind James in a spontaneous game of tag. He'd fallen off into a thicket at the edge of the forest. He'd been stunned at first. When he came to, he saw it. The snake.

The same one that now towered over him. Only this time, he couldn't just change back to his human form if something went wrong. He was human. He couldn't find anything funny about it- he was too busy being terrified.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Cutter slowly raise his wand. He was going to attack the boggart. He was going to save him. Just like everyone else always did. Just like Sirius had done. And then they would all laugh, at him. Just like they always did.

Think, Peter, think. You can do this. They're always teasing you, making fun of you. If you ever want them to stop laughing at you, you have to show them you're not afraid. You're a Gryffindor. For once, act like it. Peter looked away from the serpent, out towards the walls, glowing from the light reflected through the windows, searching for inspiration.

Harry took a step forward, ready to strike if the snake so much as moved. He hadn't really anticipated that a student wouldn't be able to figure out what he felt was such a simple spell. The words were on his lips when Peter finally raised his wand, arm shaking uncontrollably.

"Riddikulus!"

The words were barely out of his mouth before the magic hit the boggart. It looked as if an invisible giant had grabbed the snake by its head and tail. It lifted off the ground momentarily, twisting around in its assailants grasp as it was bent into a loop, before the head was pulled through. In the serpents place lay a living, struggling knot.

The class broke out in laughter, and the tension was shattered. Surprised, Peter turned towards the crowd of students. For the first time, they weren't laughing at him. Walking towards the back of what was becoming a line, Peter grinned from ear to ear as the marauders patted him on the back.

Harry smiled, a real smile. Though he hadn't so much as even thought it aloud to himself, this was what he'd wanted to see. His father and his friends in their element, making other people laugh.

Up next came Remus, still smiling but looking a little worried. His apprehension proved he knew exactly what his boggart would become. Harry wondered exactly what about this lesson drove Remus to teach- by all means it should have done just the opposite. Being so close to having your condition as a dark creature revealed couldn't possibly be much of an eye-opening experience.

Whatever the other students had anticipated the boggart the turn into, they were clearly disappointed as it manifested into a silver, glowing globe. The other marauders paled slightly, fearing one of the students would comment. Most students just seemed confused- except for Snape. His expression was unreadable as he stored the information away for later use.

Remus seemed to steel himself, raising his wand and muttering the incantation. The moon changed into a silver balloon, flying around the room briefly before coming to a stop in front of the wardrobe again. Some Gryffindors snickered at the noise. How childish, Harry thought.

Slightly pale, but gathering his wits about him, Remus turned to face the class, meeting the gaze of his fellow marauders as he made his way to the back of the line.

The next student up, a Slytherin, raised her wand as what seemed to be a vampire walked her way. Saying the spell, she effectively removed all of its teeth. The vampire gaped for a few seconds, opening and closing its vacant mouth before the next student came forward.

The boggart quickly transformed, thousands of centipedes suddenly crawling along the classroom floor. The student, a lanky Gryffindor with a crooked nose, jumped back, almost bowling over another student. Catching himself, he too cast the spell, and the class grimaced as a giant fly swatter began slapping away at the insects- most found this more disgusting than amusing, as the mass of bugs made a sickening crunching sound as they were squashed.

The class learned quickly, student after student approaching the boggart. Each student had a different fear, each a different solution. Harry had never felt more proud- the students were gaining confidence.

And then it was Snape's turn. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. Remus had told Harry a few of the forms the boggart had taken in this lesson, but he had been unwilling to speak of Snape's in particular- it was something too personal. Harry just hoped it wasn't also something dangerous.

Snape's typical overconfident posture was absent, something that put Harry on his toes. He feigned apathy concerning the lesson, mouth stuck in his distinctive sneer- something he wore so often it almost seemed like it was chiseled in stone. But his eyes gave him away- they bore into the boggart with resignation, mixed with shame. The gloomy depths betrayed a wealth of trepidation and self-loathing. Of course, none of the students seemed to notice. Bitterly, Harry thought of all the times he'd had that same look in his own eyes- no one had seen it in him either. Maybe it took someone who felt the same pain to notice it.

The boggart began its transformation, and Harry held his breath. Standing in the middle of the room, Snape did the same. Slowly, a tall, raven-haired man emerged. His limbs were long, draped in black silk robes, held by a silver clip at his neck. His complexion was pale, his proud nose raised high. The similarities were uncanny. It was if an older Severus Snape stood in front of the class.

Except the eyes. The young Snape's eyes were spirited and proud, though a little cruel. They were the eyes of a bully, that was all. This mans eyes were cold- like stone. Those eyes looked about the room, eyeing each and every student before landing on the now frozen Snape.

He had always been taught control- a Snape was never to reveal his emotions. This became a moot point, however, when facing the very person who'd instituted this self-control on him. Whenever he saw that familiar face, the inner turmoil he'd suppressed for years always seemed to bubble over. It seeped into his eyes, face, hands, and posture. It all became prey to this sickening clench in his gut.

The man didn't even have to move and he was terrified.

He wasn't like those annoying Gryffindors. That had been what angered him most about the Gryffindor groupies- they were so disgustingly optimistic. Snape was a realist, something borne of a painful past and little hope for his future. The Gryffindors, on the other hand, had it good. They were smart, handsome, popular, and had little to worry of other than how to pull off their next childish prank. Yes, Snape was bitter. But then again, so would anyone else in his situation.

While being realistic had its ups, this situation was not one of them. No matter how hard he tried, Snape couldn't think of anything more than how right he was to fear this man. Slytherins were clever, self-preserving, and rational. All these traits made it impossible for him to find anything so serious amusing.

He couldn't concentrate with him in front of him. He closed his eyes, willing him to go away. He wouldn't be made a fool in front of the entire class. He clenched his fists, hoping they couldn't see how much he was shaking.

He tried to think of a day when he had been able to laugh. The past few years had fostered harsh training in the Dark Arts, preparation for when he would take his place next to the young Dark Lord. Before that had been cold, lonely days where he fought for the attention- not affection, he couldn't remember ever feeling that in his life- of his parents. He reached into his memories; using a technique he'd learned in his legimency lessons to grab at one emotion, hoping the memory still existed.

He was three- the memory was barely intact, and what was left was very brief and fractured, but the emotion was unbroken. His fathers face seemed so young, wrinkles creasing his cheeks in an unchecked smile. It was strange to see him like this- his eyes were soft as he blew a red, latex muggle balloon up, making exaggerated gestures with his eyebrows as his son giggled at his antics.

Holding onto the memory in his mind like a lifeline, he raised his wand. His voice sounded out strong- though his eyes began to water.

"Riddikulus!"

The mans stance became warmer. A sweet smile blossomed on his sallow skin. His robes seemed looser, warmer, though they remained that shadowy black. His hair fell lightly on his face, framing eyes that reflected emotions he was terrified to delve into.

In his hand was a red balloon.

Snape backed away, refusing to meet those eyes again. For some reason, he was more afraid of this man standing before him than those familiar cold eyes he'd had before. He forced himself not to rush to the back of the line, refusing to meet the gazes of his fellow Slytherins. He'd never live this down- pretty soon rumors of him being an emotional sap would spread.

In the front of the line, Lily Evans held her wand softly between her fingers, the familiar willow under her fingers reassuring her. She wasn't sure what to expect- there were many things she feared, sure, but the thing she feared the most? She couldn't even guess.

Harry watched his future mother carefully. It was hard not to stare too often, and he was glad to have a reason to study her. He took the opportunity, memorizing every movement, her grace, the sway of her hair as she walked, how she bit her lip in nervousness. It was becoming harder and harder for him to be near her. It was an emotion he felt exclusively towards her. For some reason, he didn't feel this longing even for his father.

She approached the boggart carefully, her feet shifting beneath her. She felt a strange tingling in her mind- what she assumed was the boggart searching. Finally it stopped, and Lily began to panic, suddenly certain of what the boggart was about to do.

She raised her wand quickly to defend herself, hoping to catch it off guard before it fully transformed- too late. The fierce, greenish curse ripped through her, eyes darkening as the lids descended over the glossy haze.

Harry watched in horror as her body fell, debating whether to catch her or disarm the now enraged boggart. To Harry's relief, a student rushed towards the falling girl, leaving the boggart to Harry. He had two choices: risk the life of his students by attempting to fight the boggart from the side- leaving the students in the line of fire, or risk his secrets being revealed by approaching it himself from the front. Not much of a choice, is it?

It had been so long since Harry fought the boggart in third year, he wasn't even sure if the dementor would still be his worst fear. He had seen so much since then, been through so much. But Harry wasn't there to fight him. He needed to get it to submit so he could get it back into the wardrobe.

Standing in front of the fallen girl, Harry's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't had a chance to get a good look at what had been Lily's boggart- what he saw shocked him. The man stood tall, his stance strong. He was younger, harder to recognize before all the spells and charms that had left him barely human. But those eyes hadn't changed over the years, eyes he'd never thought he'd have to see again.

Voldemort.

If any of the students recognized the Dark Lord, they showed nothing. Before they had a chance to have a good look, as quickly as he had appeared, Voldemort faded into the muddled haze between the boggart's transformations. Getting his bearings, Harry prepared himself to fire the spell, hoping that whatever appeared wouldn't cause some emotional breakdown he'd been holding in for years- it wasn't the time or the place.

When the boggart had finished changing, confusion etched itself onto Harry's face. Green eyes stared perturbed at disgusted silver. That soft jaw, wisps of pale hair over that familiar light brow. Harry's jaw fell open, gaze falling over petal lips and that delicate nose that begged to be kissed. Draco's nose.

A crowd had formed around Lily, Gryffindors twittering around the fallen girl. In the background, Harry could feel eyes boring into the back of his head, falling on the figure before him. Paling, Harry hoped the figure of Draco wouldn't be mistaken for that of Lucius Malfoy.

He couldn't understand the boggart had transformed into Draco of all things. Or maybe he didn't want to. The only thing about Draco that remotely scared him was that the blonde might leave him someday. Wait, Harry thought, that's just it. I don't want him to leave. The rosy lips of the boggart twisted into a sneer.

Its mouth opened to speak, the sneer never leaving. Harry didn't want to hear, didn't want to think of the words ever leaving his mouth. Quickly, desperately, Harry yelled the spell in the boggart's face, not waiting for the effects of the spell as he spelled it back into the wardrobe, bolting it tight.

Harry let go of the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in his lungs. The boggart had been taken care of, but Lily still remained unconscious- in what Harry realized was James' arms. A smile threatened to fall on his face- his father had been the one to catch his mother. He had admittedly been disappointed when he'd discovered the two hadn't gotten along very well as of yet. This new development gave him renewed hope.

"Please, give Miss Evans some room." Harry pushed through the crowd, kneeling next to his mother's prone form. He quickly checked his mothers' vitals before calming a bit. A quick spell confirmed she was only unconscious. He turned to James, who was now boring holes into him with his eyes, worried. "Mr. Potter, would you please take Miss Evans to the infirmary? Tell Madame Pomphrey she was attacked by the boggart. She should be fine, but it never hurts to be careful."

James nodded his head vigorously, ushering Sirius to him to help carry her out the classroom door. Satisfied they would be okay, Harry turned to the rest of the class.

"I'm afraid we will have to cut this lesson short. We will continue with the boggart for the beginning of the next lesson. Would everyone please turn your papers in to me. Additionally, you have another assignment. Two feet on your theories on what a boggart would transform to for a man with no fear, or what you believe the boggarts true form to be, if they have one at all. Due next class, and as always, no late papers will be accepted. That is all."

The students gathered their things as Harry stared at the now silent wardrobe, lost in thought. So much had been revealed to him- it would take a while to wrap himself around it all.

A/N: Damn. This took much longer than I thought it would. This chapter was originally over 9000 words, but then I broke it up into two chapters, the second of which will be a lot smaller. I'll be putting it up in the next few days. What do you guys think? Do you want more, smaller chapters, or fewer (and farther between) longer chapters? HBP is almost out! I'm not sure how much it will affect this story, I may decide to completely ignore it for the sake of the plot. We'll have to see- all depends on what JKR does!

Thank you to all my reviewers, SuperChic, Wing-Zero-Deathscythe-Hell, A Mad Pheonix, C. Dumbledore, JK Hallin, Amene, Anon, ningchan, TrixRStrange, Cecilie, BitchOfDarkness, Missi, JJ, thrnbrooke, sbka, smurff, Ghonchi, a dragonbreath, thrnbrooke, Jade and romanticpuck (heyas babe!). You guys are awesome!

And lastly, response to questions:

Wing-Zero-Deathscythe-Hell: I actually don't know of any other H/D time travel fics, which is why I finally decided to make one. If anyone has read any, I'd be love to read 'em!

A Mad Pheonix: There will definitely be some back-story on how those two got together within the next few chapters. Can't tell ya more than that yet!

C. Dumbledore: Harry would be in his seventh year, the marauders in their sixth.

Sbka: Lucius will be making an appearance later on, though I doubt it will be as large a part of the plot.

Jade: As of yet I'm not positive how long this will be, but there is a plot I'm going to be following- it won't be never-ending, that's for sure. Hope you guys stick around!

B/N: Hey everyone! This is muse of monotony's beta. She asked me if I wanted a beta's note and I eventually said yes. She's really cool. I only met her two weeks ago and she's already become one of the coolest people I know and a really great friend. She wanted me to put down some stuff about me so here's a short bio. My name is Beth. I'm 17. I live in Wisconsin, and yes, we do have Wal-Marts. Well, if you want to know more, just go to my profile. www. fanfiction. net / bandgeek2006 (delete the spaces) Go you snip! Have a great day!