Chapter 11 – Truth and Consequence

He sat curled on the couch, thankful school was finally out and they didn't have to worry about interruptions from panicky Slytherins. His gaze fell onto the man seated beside him, seemingly absorbed in his periodical, and he let the warmth that bubbled up suffuse his body. He thought that maybe even if this whole trip back in time turned out to be a colossal mistake that had the Great Grey Menace ruling the wizarding world, it would be worth it just to get this time with Snape.

He would never have guessed that the nasty git he remembered from his school days was even human, much less this amazing man who was becoming his day and night. For a long while, though, Harry Potter's memories had felt like something from another lifetime and he'd stopped trying to reconcile them. At that moment, a dreadful cold crept in and chased away the warm, fuzzy feeling. He really, really didn't want to, but he realized abruptly what he needed to do.

"Snape? There's something I need to tell you."

Snape set his journal aside and looked over. "That sounds ominous."

"I need you to promise me something first, though."

"An Oath?" Snape asked warily.

"No. Just your word."

"On what?"

Cameron took a deep breath. "Two things. First, you can't repeat any of what I'm about to tell you to anyone. Ever. And second, I want you to hear me out. Try to listen to everything before you make any judgments. Your word?"

Snape nodded. "You have it."

"All right. First off, I want you to know that I've never lied to you about anything I didn't absolutely have to. I've never lied about…about us, that's all been utterly real."

He could see Snape's expression shutter, could practically hear him thinking, 'So what have you lied to me about, then?"

Just get it out there, he told himself. "I'm not from this time. I used a Time-Turner to travel back, to make things better."

Snape's jaw dropped. "You what?"

"It needed to be done!" he defended, "We were never going to defeat him. Things were falling apart, and I had the means to set them right."

"Him…the Dark Lord?"

Cameron nodded.

"Your name's not really Cameron Sage, is it?"

"It is now. It has been for a long time. This is who I am."

Snape looked skeptical, but he didn't protest. Cameron fervently prayed that this wouldn't be the last time he'd ever see the man.

"So, what have you been doing to 'set things right' for the last…?"

"Thirteen years. Did you know the Dark Lord made six Horcruxes?"

"I don't know why I'm surprised by that," Snape said with a horrified expression. "Six?"

"Yes. Last time, he found out they were being destroyed before we had a chance to kill him. There was nothing to stop him making more, no way to know how many or where and what they'd be. There was no way we could keep up."

"So you went back in time to try again."

"Yes, exactly." He sincerely hoped Snape was taking this as well as he seemed to be. "I've already got rid of four of them."

"You don't miss your life? Friends, family?"

"This is my life. I can't go back, and I wouldn't even if I could."

Snape's expression relaxed a bit when he heard that. "You're from the future. You're not messing with me?"

"No, this is too important for that."

"If the Ministry found out about this, they'd have you in Azkaban. I can tell you it isn't exactly pleasant there—you should be guarding this secret with your life. Why are you even telling me?"

Cameron bit his lip. "Because…because I'm in love with you, and I couldn't stand keeping it from you anymore."

Snape's eyes widened and he was leaning forward slightly, giving him a very intense look. "Say it again."

"What, I love you? I love you."

Snape stood and pulled Cameron up from the couch. "Again."

"I love you, Severus."

"Yes."

And then Snape was devouring him, claiming his mouth for his own, hands clenching in Cameron's hair, crushing their lips together. He was giddy with relief, beyond thankful that Snape wasn't pushing him away with everything he had.

"Thank Merlin, oh thank you, thank you," he whispered when Snape pulled away and started heading toward the bedroom. "Make love to me, Snape. Please—I want to feel you moving inside me."

Snape answered with smoldering eyes and a hand tugging him through the doorway and one of the few truly happy smiles Cameron had ever seen on him.

He couldn't remember ever feeling so fortunate. And to think, he'd been so sure this conversation would end with him cursed six ways from Sunday.

XXX

"What kept you?" he asked when Snape, finally, stepped out of the floo.

"Malfoy wanted me to look at some bloody book for him. It had some fairly dark magic associated with it, but it was completely blank—I can't imagine what he wanted it for," he complained as he lowered himself to the sofa.

"What! Why didn't you firecall me?"

Snape looked at him in disbelief. "I'll have you know I am considered somewhat of an expert in the Dark Arts. You're not the only wizard capable of detecting curses. Really, does your ego know no bounds?" He scowled and started back toward the fireplace. "Just because you're a mite more powerful than the rest of us does not give you leave to disparage the talents of others."

Cameron nearly smiled. So irascible. "Calm down, Snape. I didn't mean that the way it came out," he insisted, pulling him back toward the couch. "I know what that book is."

"Oh." He sat back down and looked like he was wondering if he was expected to apologize. "Well then."

"Do you still have it?"

"Why does it matter to you? It's just—oh, sweet…Merlin's beard. Oh gods," he said, looking down at his hands in alarm as if horrified that they might have held a piece of the Dark Lord's soul.

"Do you still have it?" Cameron repeated.

"What?" Snape looked up from his hands and shook his head. "No. I could probably get it back, though."

For the next couple of hours, they discussed what was to be done. It could wait two years, like Cameron had been planning, but this seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up—he couldn't guarantee the original plan would be successful, and it was unfair to put Ginny through that if it could be avoided. Somehow, they needed to destroy it in such a way that Malfoy wouldn't report the loss to his Evilness or, if he did, that he never suspected their true motivations and replaced it. After all, he presumably had known about the Chamber of Secrets fiasco and, as far as Cameron knew, had never done a thing about it.

If was eventually decided, after Cameron realized he was being a prat trying to keep Snape completely uninvolved, that Snape would contact Malfoy in a few days. He'd say that he'd done some research and had a few ideas about the book. Then, in the process of testing his theories, it would be accidentally destroyed.

Snape assured him that he could take whatever vitriol Malfoy wanted to spew at him, and Cameron could only hope his ire would be confined to the verbal.

XXX

He walked back to the house, anxious to see how things had gone with Malfoy. Cameron had convinced Snape, after lengthy discussion—"Yes, of course I trust your Occlumency, but let's not take any chances we don't have to, yeah?"—to go explain the accident while he took care of the diary alone.

He was unnerved to find that Snape wasn't back yet, but it really hadn't been all that long. He told himself to give it another half-hour before he really worried. Besides, what was he going to do? He couldn't just barge into Malfoy Manor and give everything away. He decided to floo to Snape's quarters, just in case.

But he wasn't there, either.

Cameron was pacing in Snape's sitting room, trying to talk himself down from storming the Manor, when Snape tumbled out of the fireplace onto the hearthrug.

"Where've you been!" he blurted, then got a good look at the man lying in a heap on the floor. "Oh no. No, no. no. What did he do? Do we need to go to the hospital wing?"

Snape groaned and shook his head. "But I don't know the first thing about healing! Tell me what happened."

"Tendon Snapping Hex," Snape mumbled, clutching at his right leg.

"Tendon…which one?"

"All of them."

"What! Every tendon in your leg?" he asked, kneeling next to Snape, hands hovering over his body, afraid to touch and cause pain.

"Foot, too."

"That's it, we're getting you to the hospital wing." He'd known this was a bad idea. He kept wanting to say, 'I should never have let you go,' and barely stopped himself by considering how that sounded…let him go? Snape was old enough to make his own decisions. He knew better than anything what Malfoy was capable of.

He still felt like kicking himself, though.

"And what exactly are we going to say happened?"

Oh. Well, he hadn't thought of that yet. "Does it matter? You need medical attention."

Snape groaned. "Fine. Let's floo to St. Mungo's—they won't ask as many questions. Hopefully the Headmaster won't get wind of it. Meddlesome coot."

XXX

"I'm so sorry."

"Blast it all, it wasn't your fault! It wasn't your fault last week when I told you so, and it isn't now. Would you stop it?" Snape entreated, knocking back the rest of his drink.

"I know, I'm trying. It's just so hard seeing you hurting."

"It doesn't hurt anymore, as I'm certain I've mentioned. The mediwitch said I'd probably limp the rest of my life—it doesn't mean I'm in pain."

Cameron knew this was true. He knew that there wasn't some easy potion to fix ligaments, like Skele-Gro for bones. Not that they needed regrowing; no, they were still there, they'd just been damaged. Rather extensively. The healer in the curse damage ward had done her best reattaching them where they were supposed to be, but no amount of precision could make Snape's leg exactly like it was before.

He knew it, but no matter how many times he told himself, he couldn't quite believe it. It hurt him to see the strong, proud man limping.

"Maybe if we got a second opinion. I'm sure somewhere—"

"The witch who treated me is the foremost expert in this type of injury, and you know it. I'm aware I've never been particularly pleasant to look at, but if I am not…whole enough for you, if it bothers you so much—"

"What!" Cameron gasped. "No, no. I'm sorry you thought that. I guess it's just hard for me to understand how it isn't bothering you. Nothing can change the fact that I love you. And besides," he smirked, "you know I find you patently irresistible."

Snape looked into his glass and said with feigned nonchalance, "Do I? You haven't touched me in weeks, not since…"

"I was afraid to hurt you." Cameron got up and slid into the other side of the booth. "And I…I thought you must be angry with me. I thought you wouldn't want me touching you," he said, slipping an arm around Snape's back.

"Hmph. I've borne it thus far, I could probably stand it still."

He smiled against Snape's shoulder. "You want to skip the drinks? I'm feeling an overwhelming urge to ravish you right now."

"I don't suppose I can stop you," Snape said as they stood to leave. "What with being a cripple, and all that. Your place or mine?"

XXX

"Does Malfoy love his son?"

Snape rolled over and looked at him incredulously. True, this wasn't their usual post-coital conversation topic. Still, Cameron needed to know.

"Is he a good father?"

"What are you on about?"

"I don't want to punish Draco for his father's sins, but if it wouldn't be that much of a hardship for him…"

"You'll what?" Snape asked pointedly when Cameron trailed off.

"That man is a monster. You know it. I know it. The only ones who don't know it are the Wizengamot, and they hear galleons louder than anything else."

"I won't be responsible for your petty revenge."

"No, I will be. And it isn't petty. Nor is it revenge so much as justice, and the assurance that he'll never be able to hurt anyone again," he pointed out. He would sleep much better knowing Malfoy couldn't ever hurt Snape again.

"I admit that Draco would be better off without him. Narcissa, too. I certainly won't try and stop you."

Cameron nodded and snuggled into Snape's shoulder. "Right, that's settled then."

"What are you going to do?" Snape ran his fingers through Cameron's hair and he leaned into the touch.

"Haven't decided yet. I'll think of something." Feeling a bit better for having made the beginnings of a decision, he drifted to sleep.