Chapter 1

This is here:

"Ow," Harry groaned feebly, wincing as he licked his parched lips. Somehow he'd acquired a splitting headache as if he'd taken a Bludger to the head. He remembered quite clearly, however, coming home to Severus and looking into that strange bowl before everything went black.

What the hell has happened, he wondered and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.

"I think he's coming around!" he heard an excited voice whisper.

A young woman leaned over him; she had rather bushy, brown hair that she'd tied back and was wearing plain, blue robes. Harry needed a moment's time to place her.

"Hermione?"

"Harry, we were so worried about you!" she said softly, smiling. "When you didn't turn up at our meeting point, we thought the worst had happened, but then we went to that shop you'd mentioned, took us ages to find High Wizardgate, you know, York's full of odd little streets… Anyway, the shopkeeper didn't know how to deal with the situation at all, he'd just stuffed you into his back room, the nerve of that man! We brought you home straightaway, but you wouldn't wake up – it was horrible, we didn't want to risk bringing you to St Mungo's…" she eventually trailed off and Harry wondered when exactly the world had gone topsy-turvy.

He sat up gingerly and saw a tall, red-headed man come through the door. Harry swallowed drily, realizing that something was very, very wrong indeed.

"Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley," he murmured. "I'm really sorry, but… Aren't you two supposed to be dead?"

This isn't:

"Harry? Harry!"

Severus Snape was not a man given to rash and strong emotions, all things considered. Still, when his lover of two years dropped to the ground after having taken a look into the bowl, he felt as if the world had suddenly tilted on its axis. The kitchen, quite cozy just a moment before, now seemed chilly and a strong gust of wind banged the open windows shut. Whether this was due to the weather or his own accidental, erratic magic didn't matter very much to Severus, however, as he jumped out of his chair and kneeled at Harry's side. The young man's skin felt clammy to his touch, cold and sweaty. Severus shook him lightly.

"Harry?"

He got up, and after a moment's panicked fumbling retrieved his wand from where he'd used it as a bookmark earlier. Harry teased him quite often for his slovenly wand-keeping habits, saying that a proper wizard always ought to keep his wand on his body. Severus usually retorted that he was hardly what one might call a proper wizard anyway – and that Harry had spent too much time with Alastor Moody. Now, however, he wielded the wand quickly, pointing it at Harry and almost crying the spell: "Ennervate!"

It should wake him, it should, I cast it properly…

The spell did not work; Harry didn't even so much as twitch.

He really was in a state now. Nevertheless, he levitated Harry carefully, not sparing another glance at the innocuous-looking bowl whose contents showed the interior of a dimly lit shop before swirling shadows whisked the misty image away.

After having put Harry on the couch in the living room, Severus poured himself quite a large glass of Firewhisky, downed it in one gulp and contemplated what to do next. He himself didn't know any more revitalisation spells; bringing Harry to St Mungo's was out of the question and firecalling Madam Pomfrey would mean involving the Order in private affairs, something Severus usually avoided desperately. He sighed and picked a book on magical First Aid from one of the numerous book shelves. Quickly scanning the pages, he found a spell to check a patient's life signs. Holding the book in one hand and his wand in the other, he murmured the spell and was relieved to see a scroll pop into existence over Harry's still body.

Everything seemed to be fine, except for the fact that Harry was unconscious – something the scroll cheerfully noted, having ticked a box that said "Currently Unconscious", directly under the boxes for "Hexed Into Next Week", "Dead" and "Oh Dear" – and would not wake up.

Severus damned himself for having shown the bowl to Harry – some fine expert for magical objects he was, doing such a foolish thing without having done the necessary research first. But how could he have known that this would happen? True, the bowl's purpose and exact origins were still unknown, other than the fact that it was obviously magical in some way, but there hadn't been a single indication that it was a dark object. He himself had been studying the shadows for hours without any nasty side effects.

He sat down in the large, comfortable armchair next to the couch and cupped Harry's cheek, gently, almost as if afraid to break him.

"Please, wake up," he whispered, and was appalled at how weak and pleading his own voice sounded.

Some minutes passed; or hours. Severus lost every feeling for time as he sat in the living room, clasping Harry's left hand firmly in his own, only dully registering that the shadows on Harry's face slowly changed and lengthened. The magical candles strewn around the room had just lit themselves automatically when Harry stirred and moaned softly.

Severus got up slowly, now hopeful.

"Harry? Can you hear me?"

"I… Water," Harry croaked.

Severus quickly accio'd an already filled glass and gave it to Harry, who sipped with his eyes still closed.

"Thanks," he rasped, "I'm really sorry for fainting away like that, Mr Swallowsea."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Mr Swallowsea, Harry? Are you sure you're quite all right?"

Harry's eyes snapped open abruptly and he scrambled away from where Severus had put his hands on the couch.

"You!" he exclaimed and Severus was rather taken aback at the sheer amount of venom and hatred infused in that one, short word.

"Harry, what is it?"

His lover flinched back from his outstretched arm and almost fell off the couch in his attempt to stand up. He glanced around the room like a caged animal, pressing his back against the wall. Severus noticed that he was white as a sheet; his hands shook violently as he patted his robes, obviously looking for his wand.

"Stay away!" the young man screamed as Severus took a step towards him, "What game are you playing, Snape?"

Having found his wand, he pointed it at Severus, who now raised his hands in what he hoped was a pacifying gesture.

"I don't know what you're taking about, Harry" he said gently, "I'm sorry if-"

"Shut up! And stop calling me Harry! Stop pretending, it's no use!"

Harry's voice definitely had a hysterical edge to it now. Severus' thoughts raced; he tried to make sense of his behaviour and failed utterly. Harry acted as if he despised him, as if they were… enemies of some sort.

"I don't understand," he said slowly, pronouncing each word clearly and carefully, "Stop pretending what, exactly? I'm Severus, you know me!"

"Oh, I know you all right," Harry spat, throwing panicked looks around the room, as if wanting to make sure that nobody else was hiding behind the furniture or in the fireplace.

"How could I ever forget, sir? You tormented me for six years, you fooled and betrayed the Order and you murdered Albus Dumbledore!"

"I-" Severus began, but was again interrupted by Harry who now didn't seem so much frightened than absolutely furious.

"Where have you been hiding all those years, Snape? How long have you been planning this? Answer me, damn it!"

Severus was at a loss for words; he just took another step forward. It turned out to be a tactical error, because Harry fixed his wand on his heart and cried out, "Stupefy!"

The surprising thing was that nothing happened. Harry's wand gave a small cough; other than that, the spell failed. Harry glanced at his wand in a fury, shaking it desperately. Some pale gold and silver sparks emerged from the tip, nothing more than a weak splutter and certainly not the fireworks that usually exploded from it when Harry used it properly.

Nevertheless, this did not seem to deter Harry from his determination to knock Severus out cold. He threw his wand away and lunged at Severus, who didn't expect a physical attack at all. He wasn't quick enough to draw his own wand or defend himself otherwise and he toppled to the ground under Harry's weight.

"Harry," Severus wheezed, "For all that's good and holy, stop!"

His lover didn't listen; he punched him in the face instead. Severus was certain the he actually heard his nose break, and he saw stars as he gasped for breath.

Perhaps he lost consciousness from the shock and the searing pain tearing through his face; he wasn't sure, but when he opened his eyes it was to see Harry leaning over him, his usually brilliant green eyes now unfocused but glittering with hatred and malevolence.

"Seeming as you don't want to confess, sir," he hissed, "I'm going to have to use other methods to get the information I need. See, you'll perhaps be glad to hear that I've eventually mastered the fine art of Occlumency."

Severus sucked in a harsh breath and Harry grinned, more a twisting of the lips; it made him look quite ugly and, as he distractedly noted, not the least bit mad.

"In order to learn it, however, studying Legilimency was also necessary; now there's a tidbit of information that you never deigned to share, did you? All those lessons spent on my knees in your office… I hate you for that alone, Snape. Lucky for me, I won't even need my wand for this."

Harry held Severus' head with both hands; Severus could feel warm blood trickle down his cheeks, wetting his lips. He moaned as Harry locked their eyes, with Severus unable to look away, nearly hypnotised by that green stare.

"Legilimens!"

Severus actually screamed out loud as Harry tore through his mind with such an ease and fury that he seemed to rip it apart.

He'd never been interested in the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency other than on a theoretical level. He'd read books on the subject, and he'd once discussed it briefly with Albus Dumbledore, but nothing – nothing – could have prepared him for this agony.

Harry's face swam in front of him, only to be replaced by images, each more vivid than the other: He was five and his parents were screaming at each other while he was hiding under their bed… he was ten and trying to hide his tears as Sirius Black called him 'Snivellus'… he was sixteen, wanking guiltily to thoughts of Remus Lupin naked… finally getting out of Hogwarts, giving the the school a one-fingered salute as he left… he was twenty-two, watching from a window as fireworks exploded over wizarding London… working away in a dusty and nearly forgotten library, chasing one obscure reference after the other…

Severus couldn't stop Harry, couldn't defend himself. He clawed weakly at Harry's chest, but this only caused the other man to strengthen his grip on Severus' head. And the images contintued unabatedly: Browsing in a shop, bumping into Harry for the first time… Harry and himself hastily undressing in a desperate haste to get naked as quickly as possible… Albus Dumbledore's disapproving face as he found out about their relationship… Sirius Black yelling and threatening to hex him black and blue… Him lying next to Harry in bed, slowly stroking his back…

"Please," he whispered brokenly, "Please…"

He wasn't aware of Harry letting go of his face, the blood on it now mingled with tears as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Hearing his lover – Lover? Not anymore, not after this, no, no, no, please – stumble away from him, he curled into a tight ball, but this did nothing to ease the pain. The last thing then was the front door slamming shut, sounds of Harry vomiting; and Severus' mind slipped away into a dull roar, a grey sea of shadows and unrecognising green eyes.