Chapter 16

This is here:

"What do you want, Potter?" Snape asked, looking impatient and not a bit dangerous; black robes creased, his hair hanging in greasy strands from his head, pasty skin and yellowing teeth. He looked like a contorted version of Severus, like somebody had taken his lover and twisted him into something ugly.

Harry couldn't stop staring.

There were lines on the other man's face, made harsher by the half-light of the flat; all the blinds were drawn and only let in a minimum of sunlight. Snape's nose cast a seemingly huge shadow on his face; his eyes were black and empty.

"I miss him," he said helplessly. "I miss him."

"Potter," Snape hissed, spittle flying from his mouth, "Do you want to tell me that you have compromised my life and therefore the fight against the Dark Lord because you miss your lover?" He spat out the last word as if it were an insult; and in his mind it probably was.

Harry nodded and then sat down on the beaten armchair in the living room without being asked.

"Of course, make yourself comfortable," Snape sneered, "Shall I make you a cup of tea as well?"

It was all Harry could do to keep himself from crying and he looked unblinkingly at the other wizard, searching for any hint of warmth there, any hint of familiarity. He needed some reassurance; he needed someone to tell him that everything would be all right.

"Haven't you ever loved anyone?" he asked hoarsely and Snape flushed.

"I fail to see how that's any concern of yours, boy."

"Only – You could understand me, then."

"In any case, I could never condone such foolish and reckless behaviour for the sake of a fleeting emotion!"

"You haven't," Harry said with quiet certainty, "You wouldn't say that if you had."

"Potter -"

"I'm not here to attack you, or to annoy you," he explained earnestly, "Only you look a bit like him."

"Like who?"

"Severus Snape. My Severus."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Aren't we supposed to be identical in appearance?"

"You couldn't be more different. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have come. Nobody will be able to trace me though, I promise."

Harry stoop up and scrubbed tiredly at his face. "You'll hopefully never see me again. This me, at any rate. But if you do – well."

He reached out his hand and Snape flinched back as if burned, looking at it with disdain.

"I never told him I loved him," Harry said, letting his hand fall at his side. "In the beginning I didn't and then I thought I had all the time in the world. It must have been hard for him, with everyone being... But nobody blamed me. They all blamed him. I think they still do. But he never said a thing. He made me tea and took me to Muggle restaurants and he'd patch me up if I fell off my broom and we'd get pissed on Firewhisky together but I never said anything. But I do. I do love him and even if you're not him I need you to know that. I need him to know that."

There was a pause, then, in which Harry licked his suddenly dry lips and Snape balled his hands into fists.

"I'd better go now," Harry said and didn't wait for Snape to reply before escaping from his presence.

This isn't:

"Hold still, Harry. This might sting a bit."

Harry nodded and clenched his teeth as Severus covered his back with a cold, greasy substance that smelled like rotten eggs and felt like it was setting every single whip mark on fire.

"It's going to be completely absorbed into your skin in about twenty minutes and then you can put a shirt on. You'll have to put it on again tomorrow but after that you should be fine. You were lucky."

"How so?"

"Because Draco made a crucial mistake in designing his spell. The whip worked like an ordinary whip on your skin and that's why your wounds can be healed magically. A more competent wizard would have infused it with magic that makes it impossible to heal those wounds quickly."

"Ah well, that makes me feel so much better," Harry murmured, eyes drooping. He'd only woken up an hour ago though, in an unfamiliar bedroom full of faded Quidditch posters where the players were moving around rather sluggishly on their brooms instead of zipping through the sky. Every single bone in his body had hurt; he'd been lying on his stomach amongst a truly impressive pile of pillows. Harry had almost fainted again when he'd tried sitting up, but Severus had entered the room at that moment, carrying a tray full of food and medicine.

"What time is it?" Harry asked.

"It's seven o'clock in the evening," Severus answered, smoothing the last of the potion over his back and tracing small circles on his shoulder blades. "You've slept for more than twelve hours. Mind you, that's no wonder considering everything that happened last night."

"Neville!" Harry's eyes flew open. "Regulus, and the Order! What happened?"

"Neville is fine. He is traumatised by the death of his father. He didn't have anybody else growing up and after the deaths of Ron and Hermione he became... unstable, for a while. Frank made sure that he didn't follow them into a quick death and now that he's gone... We'll have to see. He always tried living up to his father's expectations – and last night he failed in his own eyes. He's with Albus Dumbledore right now, at Hogwarts."

"Dumbledore – He's back?"

"Oh yes, he came back this morning. I heard he was furious. Have some of that tea, it should still be warm."

Harry gratefully accepted the offered cup and drank deeply. He thought he could still taste the nauseating mix of blood and vomit in his mouth, although someone must have performed a tooth-cleaning charm while he'd been sleeping; upon waking his breath had tasted of a minty spice that he'd come to associate with wizarding tooth paste over the years.

"Regulus, to my knowledge, is alive and safe for the time being. Dumbledore wouldn't tell anybody more I'm afraid. Most of the Order members are unharmed, some minor injuries. Tonks is currently suffering from an engorged nose twice its normal size but since she's a Metamorphmagus it's not bothering her too much. Emmeline Vance and Bill Weasley have sustained mild trauma from exposure to the Cruciatus curse and are being treated at St Mungo's. It was good you called me when you did, Harry."

"Thank you," Harry said and put the cup on the nightstand. He made as if to get up from the bed, but Severus grasped his hand and shook his head. "Not yet. You're still quite weak. What you did was brilliant, yes, but also quite foolish."

"I gave your map to Regulus," Harry blurted out suddenly – whether that was to stop it weighing on his conscience or because he wanted to distract Severus from lecturing him he didn't know. Possibly a mixture of both. "He needed – There was this fireplace and he didn't know where he was going, so I gave it to him. I'm sorry."

Severus looked down at their joined hands, squeezing Harry's fingers lightly before letting go.

"It was my gift to you, yours to use as you please," the older man said slowly as if wanting to be careful not to slip in his choice of words.

Harry, on the other hand, couldn't shake the feeling that Severus wasn't really talking about the map just then. He sat up straight, clasping Severus' head in his hands and forcing the other wizard to look at him.

"Listen," he said fiercely, "I can't help what happened between your Harry and Regulus. I don't know how he – I – feels about Regulus Black and I can't sort it out for you. I gave Regulus the map because it seemed like the right thing to to. He'd just saved me from Draco Malfoy and blew his cover and I couldn't not be grateful. And even if... Even if... I'm straight, remember?" he finished lamely.

Severus' lips quirked up in the ghost of a smile.

"I remember," he confirmed.

"Anyway, Regulus told me that you have his gratitude."

Instead of snorting at the pompousness of that sentiment as Harry had expected Severus to react, the older wizard frowned and then nodded. "I suppose..." he muttered. Smiling suddenly as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders he brushed back Harry's messy hair and then got up from where he'd been sitting on the bed.

"You should go back to sleep," he said and started to clean up around the room, picking up Harry's torn robe and scowling at it. "I suspect that Albus Dumbledore will want to see you as soon as possible and you'll want to be well rested for that particular interview."

"Severus... What about the Time Turners?" Harry asked.

The other man stilled with his back turned to him and then briskly resumed putting things on the tray he'd brought with him.

"They're destroyed," Severus said tightly, "Each and every one of them, destroyed. I went back and checked. I'm sorry."

"But..." Panic began to slither up Harry's spine. "There's others? You said that there used to be loads of Time Turners around until that ban, maybe the Ministry has got others somewhere else?"

"'Loads' is a rather relative term in the wizarding world, Harry," Severus said, "And no. When Time Turners were banned the Ministry collected them all in the one place that was presumed safe. After all, who would ever think to break into the Department of Mysteries? It's completely unheard of."

"So... So, what now?"

"Now you rest, Harry. Lily may want to talk you first and I can hardly forbid her to see her own son, especially in her own house."

"We're in Godric's Hollow?"

"She wouldn't let me take you home." The other wizard's tone told Harry that there was a whole story behind there – probably a spectacular row – but he was too depressed to ask further questions. Severus left the room noiselessly and Harry slowly pulled the fresh shirt over his head that had been laid out for him.

The fact that all of the Time Turners had been destroyed slowly began to sink in properly, now that he felt a bit more clear in the head; that, as well as the consequences. He was stuck here. Stuck in this strange world, so unfamiliar to him. He felt like an outsider here; alien to this reality. A feeling that was entirely normal, he supposed; but then again, Harry was homesick. He missed his friends and he missed the familiarity of the life he was used to – he hated having to be on his guard all the time, every single day with every single person he met. This world, this dimension was like his own reality in so many respects – but it felt as if somebody had taken a kaleidoscope and shifted it just so, making everything twisted and strange in the process.

As abnormal and plain dangerous Harry's own life was, he wanted it back.

And if he couldn't ever return...

What was he supposed to do? He wasn't good enough or even enthusiastic enough to keep on playing Quidditch. On the other hand he lacked the necessary skills for everything else. Harry had never got his NEWTs and there had been times over the last few years when he'd regretted the decision to leave Hogwarts early. It wasn't the qualifications on a piece of parchment he lacked; it was the systematic knowledge taught at school, information handed to you on a silver platter. Sometimes he envied Hermione her self-discipline and motivation for learning. So getting any sort of job would be difficult, but there were also other aspects of this other Harry's life to consider -

Like his relationship with Severus Snape.

If he couldn't get back; if he was stuck here for the rest of his life; what was he supposed to do about the other Harry's lover? Keep up the pretence – at least for a certain amount of time – and then break up with him? Move out the very next day and start a life of his own somewhere in London? There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Severus loved him – loved his Harry, that was – even though the other man had never explicitly said so. It was clear in the way he talked about him; obvious in the way he looked at him in unguarded moments; painfully evident in the way he'd kissed him after that Dementor attack. Severus was worrying about him constantly. He'd protected him at the Ministry of Magic with his own Patronus. He'd do anything to keep him safe, to make sure his lover would find himself in a perfectly conserved body when – if – they were reunited.

Harry wasn't sure how Severus would cope, knowing that he was forever separated from his partner by a near-infinity of dimensions but stuck with an ostensibly straight and slightly messed up counterpart in his body.

Focusing on Severus also helped to distract Harry from his own tangled feelings on the matter. After all, he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore, if he'd ever known it in the first place. Being in the other wizard's presence left Harry feeling awkward, always, and mildly confused most of the time. He wasn't used to feeling this way; and it had literally been years since he'd contemplated any sort of relationship with anyone. He had Remus; he had Ron and Hermione and that would have to be enough until after he'd finally defeated Voldemort.

And up until these past few weeks, that had been enough.

Now, however...

A soft knock on the door interrupted Harry's musing and he called out a muffled, "Enter!", burying his face in the pillows.

"Harry?"

Lily gingerly opened the door and entered the room, coming to sit on the bed beside him. She gently smoothed back his hair, mirroring Severus' caress earlier, but his hand had been larger, warmer and, somehow, so much more.

"Mum?" Harry asked, barely stumbling over the unusual word; he turned his head.

"I just wanted to see whether you were all right," the witch said, smiling a bit sadly. "I was worried about you."

"Severus took care of me."

"That he did," she conceded and sighed. "Harry, I know we've never talked about his -"

"Don't," he interrupted her and sat up, bringing them both face to face. Lily's hand fell away from his head; he took it and looked at the slender golden ring she was wearing.

"Is that -?" he gestured at the ring finger.

Lily nodded. "It's my wedding ring. I haven't taken it off since your father put it there. Didn't seem right, somehow."

"Doesn't Sirius mind?" Harry asked, honestly curious.

"Sirius knows that if James were still alive today we'd be happily married to each other."

"And that... that..." he groped for the right words to say.

"Yes," his mother confirmed the unspoken question, "Sometimes. But at the end of the day I'm coming home to him. He got me, in the end, no?"

Harry was vividly reminded of Severus at that moment, saying almost those exact words - "I got you in the end, didn't I?" - and bit his lip. Just as Regulus Black seemed to be standing between the other Harry and Severus, James Potter had left a very clear presence in this house that hadn't faded over the years. He wondered how Sirius dealt with that, looking at his partner of five years, someone he had know for nearly three decades and knowing that she'd rather be with someone else if she could.

"Do you love Sirius?" he blurted out, suddenly needing to know. He needed to know that there was, love in this seemingly better world after all. Because Dumbledore had told him that love was the greatest power in the world – greater than anything Voldemort could come up with. Without love, what chance did they stand against the most evil wizard since Grindelwald? Without love, what made the endless fighting worth it?

"Do you love Severus?" Lily retorted without missing a beat.

Harry replied after a second's hesitation, wonder colouring his voice as he realised that he was speaking the truth.

"I do, actually. Yes."

"Harry, my dear boy, have a seat." Dumbledore gestured to a huge, squashy armchair in front of his desk and Harry sank down on it with a barely audible sigh. He hadn't slept much last night; pain and disappointment had kept him awake for a long time after Lily had left him with a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," he said respectfully, bowing his head. Dumbledore hadn't specified a reason in his demand for Harry's visit; Harry doubted that this would be a simple debriefing, however. The old wizard looked too grave for that, peering at him over his half-moon spectacles.

"How are you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked mildly. "Regulus has told me that you sustained some serious injuries at the hands of young Mr Malfoy."

"I'm all right, thanks," Harry replied. "Severus has taken care of me. We stayed in Godric's Hollow... afterwards. How is Regulus, sir? Where is he?"

The headmaster sighed. "Regulus is well, considering the circumstances. Voldemort is most displeased with him, as you can well imagine, and has tried to destroy his mind using Legilimency. So far Regulus had managed to resist, also because Voldemort is still weakened and distracted by the magic you've worked, Harry. I have to say, a most impressive feat."

Harry noted that he other wizard had omitted Regulus' whereabouts in answering his questions but decided not to press the issue.

"Yeah... Well." He stopped there, unsure how to proceed. How much did Dumbledore know about what had happened at the Ministry? What had Regulus – or Severus, or Lily for that matter – told him? Surely he'd already spoken to Neville?

"Harry -" Dumbledore interrupted himself. He picked up his wand and said, smiling slightly, "I think this conversation calls for a cup of tea. Would you care for something to eat as well?"

Harry shook his head and watched as the headmaster summoned a house-elf and explained his wishes. Nodding eagerly, the house-elf disappeared with a crack and a full tea tray materialised on the desk between them a second later. Dumbledore poured tea for the both of them and Harry grasped his cup with both hands, glad to have something that kept his hands occupied.

"I do apologise," the old wizard was saying now, "I've spoken to both Regulus and Neville extensively and talked to your mother and Sirius via Floo. I know what happened but now... Now I can't help but wonder why. You see, I was told some extraordinary things."

Harry couldn't prevent himself from croaking, "Like what?"

"You picked up the prophecy," Dumbledore said, "You picked up the prophecy from its shelf, although there are only two wizards alive who should be able to do that. The prophecy was not made about you. It was about Tom Riddle and Neville Longbottom, the boy who lived."

"Erm..." Harry hedged.

"And then," the other man continued, "What about your behaviour towards Regulus Black? Quite surprising, given your... ambiguous relationship. And the thing that astounded me the most, Harry, and that which is also the greatest mystery to me: You took Neville's wand from him. You simply picked it up -"

"He wouldn't do it and there wasn't time for faffing around. Voldemort would have killed us all -"

"Let me finish, please. You took Neville's wand and started duelling with Voldemort himself. Few, if any, wizards have survived that foolishness, yet you escaped without a scratch, figuratively speaking. You knew what was going to happen, didn't you? The Priori Incantatem is a very rare effect, almost never observed. Yet you knew of it and used it with absolute certainty. The question is..." Dumbledor leaned forward, pinning him with an unwavering gaze. "How?"

"And Harry," he carried on, "I shall know if you're lying to me."

Harry sipped at his tea and grimaced at the overly sweet taste of it. "Is that a threat, sir?"

"Merely a statement of fact."

"Well then."

Harry sat still for a moment and gathered his thoughts. Then he put the tea cup back on the desk and pushed the saucer away from him.

"You could say I'm not from here," he started his story, "I'm not from here, meaning this world. You see, that bowl you gave to Severus some weeks ago..."

Just as he had done with Remus, Harry explained everything – from his ill-fated trip to York on the hunt for another horcrux to waking up in Severus' cottage; from keeping up the pretence and the strangeness of going from being the boy who lived to living as an ordinary Quidditch Player of no consequence whatsoever. Dumbledore listened without interrupted him and the concentrated look on his face told Harry that he'd put their conversation and his story into a Pensieve as soon as he'd left he office.

Finally Harry broke off, feeling exhausted again. His back was throbbing – a dull ache – and his head had started to hurt quite a while ago. His mouth was dry and he greedily drank down his tea, not caring that it had gone cold.

"That explains most things," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "Extraordinary! Quite extraordinary. It's our decisions that shape us, make us into who we are – but they also have the potential to influence everything around us. Who would have thought that a single brave decision by Remus Lupin could have such an impact? However, Harry, there is one thing, one foolish act for which I cannot but reprimand you: Why did you not tell us about your suspicions regarding Neville? Lives might have been saved if you had done so."

The image of Frank Longbottom, lying dead in his son's arms, rose unbidden into Harry's mind; he lowered his head.

"I don't know," he whispered, "I supposed I thought... I thought I could handle it on my own."

"Like you've handled most thing on your own every since you were a small boy," the headmaster remarked. "And Severus didn't try and influence you otherwise. Of course he didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Harry... I know it doesn't seem like it but I do value every single member of the Order of the Phoenix even if I have to pay more attention to some of them than to others. And I can safely say that Severus Snape would follow you to the end of the world and back if you asked him to. I have seldom known a wizard to hold so deep a love for another human being."

Harry was sure that he gaped quite openly at Dumbledore in a rather unbecoming manner. He'd known that Severus loved the other Harry; of course he'd known that. To have that fact confirmed by Albus Dumbledore, of all people, nevertheless came as quite a surprise to put it mildly.

"The other Harry," he said eventually ,"He loves the other Harry."

"You – ah. It's like that, isn't it?"

There was nothing but compassion shining in Dumbledore's eyes and all at once Harry felt like crying.

"In that case, maybe the destruction of the Time Turners might be looked upon as a more serendipitous event?"

"How can you say that!" Harry snapped. "I want to get back – I need to get back! My friends are waiting for me. I need to fight against Voldemort. And even if all that didn't apply, you've said it yourself: Severus loves Harry. How could I ever stay here, knowing that the other Harry is stuck in my world? With Snape who's a Death Eater – who killed you! - and Voldemort after him? No; this would be the coward's way out. Time Turners or not, I'm a wizard and I will find a way to go back in time. I don't care how long it'll take me. I will return."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Dumbledore said after a lengthy pause. Then he rose and clapped his hands; the tea tray and assorted cups vanished.

"And now if you will excuse me, you've given me a lot to think about. Bowls, horcruxes, Time Turners – these are interesting times we live in."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, getting up from the armchair, "Is there nothing you can do about the Time Turners? Nothing you can think of?"

"Harry my boy, I -" the wizard sighed. "Time is not to be trifled with. A wizard of witch trying to control it might very well go mad. In fact, many have. It is a branch of magic I have always steered well clear of."

Harry bit his lip and nodded.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said. "But don't give up hope yet. After all, I think it highly unlikely that every single Time Turner in Great Britain has been destroyed. I'm reasonably sure that some wizarding families have one tucked away in their Gringotss vault; just in case, you know. And for every door that closes, another one opens."

"Are you suggesting I break into Gringotts?" Harry asked and grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantel piece. "That's ridiculous, I'd never make it, there's the Goblins, and the dragon..."

"Not at all, not at all. No, what I'm suggesting is that you go and get some rest. You look like you need it."

"Yes, Professor."

Before throwing the powder into the fireplace, Harry turned around and smiled at the old wizard. "I know you're not my Professor Dumbledore but still... It's been good, seeing you again. I missed talking to you."

"Go now, Harry," Dumbledore murmured but Harry could see that his eyes were misty behind his glasses. He nodded and stepped into the fireplace.

Arriving in the living room of Severus' cottage he could hear the other man puttering about in the kitchen. The wireless was playing softly and the clattering of dishes told Harry that Severus was cleaning up. Too tired to even call out a greeting he shuffled over to the sofa and collapsed on it, lying on his stomach and falling asleep immediately.