Disclaimer: No, Hogwarts and its assorted denizens aren't mine. Wish they were, 'cos then I'd be rich, rich, rich – mwa-ha-ha-haaa!

One can dream.

For those of you still reading by this chapter, well done! This little plotless story started out as a weird idea and developed a plot along the way, and it growed like Topsy (thanks in part to those of you who said, "Hey, can we see Snape in this story?").

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Chapter 35: Truth Behind Lies

Harry blinked at the ceiling. It was blurred and some distance above, and there was a suggestion of light diffusing through cotton sheets gently wafting around his bed.

Oh. He was in the Hospital Wing. Again. The blur was a familiar one by now, and from long practise Harry knew to reach to his left for the bedside table where his glasses would be. His fingers closed around the frames – good old Madam Pomfrey. Ouch – his right hand ached for some reason. Oh, that was right… someone's nose had hit his fist.

"About time you woke up," drawled a voice from the bed to his right. Harry didn't need to put his glasses on to recognise the speaker.

"Hnh? Nnh." Harry swallowed in a futile effort to clear what felt like carpet off his tongue and the back of his throat. "Draco," he croaked. "I see you didn't get off lightly either. Or are your eyes giving you trouble again?"

"Actually my eyes are fine. Better than fine – they're great. Back to normal," Draco added with satisfaction, sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed where he'd been lying. He handed Harry a glass of water. "And I didn't get off so lightly. I got a detention. Granger and I have to polish the suits of armour for a month. Oh – this?" He waved a hand at the bed. "No, I just wanted a quiet place for a lie-down." He grinned as Harry's scowl turned into a reluctant smile. "So… after the spell was activated… what happened to you, anyway?"

Harry paused to consider. "I… went back in time, pretended to be Jame- my dad to rescue Severus from a werewolf; considered convincing my mum not to give J- my father a go –"

"Hang on, hang on… your dad? And your mum?"

"Um, yeah. There was a slight problem" (Draco snorted) "with the spell. I only got as far as twenty-one years ago. May I continue?" Draco waved a languid hand in permission. "Why, thank you. Too kind. As I was saying – Mum still decided to give Ja- my dad a go even though he'd been a complete bastard to me and pretty much everyone else at Hogwarts… but he grew up a bit, I hope, and we bonded… well, no, we didn't really. My fist nearly bonded with his nose, though," he added thoughtfully. That reminded him of why his hand was sore now, and of the crunch when he'd broken Sirius' nose… but he didn't want to think of Sirius right now. It was like he'd come back to a stranger. Many strangers. On to happier thoughts – fractionally happier, anyway: "I met your parents. And all these junior Death Eaters. Your mum was okay. Miles better than Bellatrix, not that that says anything as your aunt's a complete maniac. But, er, I punched out your dad although he didn't know it was me and didn't even recognise me as my dad. Er. Sorry. Although I'm not sorry…" He pressed a hand to his eyes, pressing until lights popped behind his retinas. "Uh… Not making much sense yet. What else? Oh, Severus and I stopped a couple of possessed books from the library from dissolving the foundations of the castle."

Draco, who'd raised one eyebrow at the mention of Harry hitting Lucius, raised the other. "'Severus'?"

"Uh – Snape." Harry didn't want to explain that. He was back in this time now – Snape had died not too long ago. Severus had died much further back in the past. Just not in Harry's past. Suddenly the room, which had been warm with spring sunshine, developed a chill.

Draco shrugged, although his grey eyes were hooded. "Eh. Anything interesting?"

Harry struggled back from memory. "Oh, that's right. We – I found the Glasshouse of Secrets and the Golden Sickle of Helga Hufflepuff."

"Ah. So you did manage to do something according to plan. Well done."

Harry pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and pressed at his eyes again, trying to forget a badger glaring up at him myopically. "Thanks," he replied, quiet to Draco's sarcasm. "But I didn't. Not really. I couldn't bring it back with me. S- someone said it was something to do with Artefacts of Truth not being allowed to shift through time. Dumbledore agreed. He's hidden it for me."

"Where?"

"Dunno. And he had to wipe his own memory because I told him too much about the future."

"Oh. Well, never mind. If he's hidden it it'll be somewhere you can find it again."

"Hmm."

"What's wrong? You got what you wanted." Draco appeared nettled by Harry's lack of reaction.

"Yeah. It's just…"

"Weird seeing dead people?"

Harry resettled his glasses and looked up, unsettled by Draco's sudden, seemingly psychic powers. "Yes. You know, you should take over Divinations. You're miles better than Trelawney."

Draco, blue-grey eyes sharp, opened his mouth to say something then paused as the door to the Infirmary opened. Soft steps hurried across the floor. "Here comes Granger – I think your personal advisor put a charm on you to tell her when you woke. I'll leave you two to your happy reunion. Got class, anyway." He was off before Harry could ask him to wait, nodding in stiff politeness to Hermione as he passed her.

"Granger."

She slowed to incline her head just as formally. "Malfoy." Then she hurried forward again to Harry's bed, her robes swishing around her ankles. "Oh, Harry," she said, and Harry wondered why her eyes were a bit red.

Then he stopped wondering. Hermione had knelt down by his bed and thrown her arms around him. "Harry… You're all right?"

He patted her back a little awkwardly. "I'm fine." And then he realised: "You did it perfectly, Hermione."

She sat on the bed and wiped at her eyes carefully, trying not to let him see she'd been crying. "Really? Everyone was so cross when they found out. They seemed to think that time-travel so far back was impossible, and that you must be – I thought… I…"

"I can see what you thought," Harry smiled. "I didn't get back to the time of the Founders, but it all worked out. The spell took me to where I needed to go to find the Sickle. Everything was – everything worked out."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I can see. You're back."

Harry turned his face aside, knowing it showed too much right now. "Yes. Um. Hermione, I, ah…"

"Need a bit of time?"

He smiled gratefully, glad that she understood. "It's just seeing all those people, some who were going to die…"

She stilled, the slight furrow between her brows the only clue that her mind was working furiously, then nodded and leaned forward to give him a peck on the cheek. "I'm late for Arithmancy. Ron's in DADA or he'd be here now… I… I'll come and see you after dinner, if that's okay."

"It's very okay." Harry was just relieved she hadn't asked anything about when he'd gone to. He especially didn't want to talk about his parents. Or… anyone else from that time.

"Okay."

They grinned at each other for a moment, then Hermione slipped away as quietly as she'd come.

Harry lay back, thinking of all he'd seen and done in the last week and the sheer surrealism of coming back to a world where classes still went on and Hermione worried about being late for them. It was so normal. Normal shouldn't be part of his world. Not after what he'd seen and done. The people he'd seen. The things they'd done to and for him.

His parents hadn't been the worst. The worst had been Snape, because Harry still wasn't ready for him to be dead. Getting Snape – Severus – to trust him enough to help with finding the Sickle… and knowing that Severus wouldn't abandon him in that tunnel; finding out that Snape had once been a real person called Severus, who'd read Muggle literature and thought of Harry as a friend; who'd stayed with Harry when a werewolf tried to eat them…

Harry shuddered as he remembered sitting under an Invisibility Cloak (his future Cloak) and watching Dumbledore erase Severus' memory.

Dumbledore had taken the Golden Sickle and used it as the focus to rebuild memories. Severus, it turned out, was right: the Sickle was an artefact of truth. And as such it could be used to hide truth, providing the right lies were used. Lily, James, Remus and Sirius had gone first, then been taken away by Madam Pomfrey for medi-chocolate. Then it had been Severus' turn.

Severus had looked ill. Then, as he focussed on the Sickle and Dumbledore raised his wand and spoke the charms, his face went blank and Harry knew he'd been forgotten. Severus would remember back to the Shrieking Shack incident, yes, but the memory was rebuilt so that he remembered his rescuer as James Potter instead of Harry… Because Harry Lovegood had gone back to his own school without leaving an address for owls. And Harry Lovegood had just been someone Severus had shown around the school for a bit, anyway. It wasn't like they'd been friends or anything.

(Under the Invisibility Cloak Harry had clenched his hands into fists, but he couldn't argue with Dumbledore on this one. It was best Severus forget he'd had a friend called Harry Lovegood. But it was the worst kind of lie, at least as bad as the one that said James had rescued Severus.)

There was a terminal injustice built into the universe.

Harry's presence had been necessary to help with the spells, especially the one which substituted James' face for his, as Dumbledore took down and reconstructed memories. He listened as Dumbledore explained that it would be best if Severus went home for a few weeks until things settled.

"What about Black? I suppose he's not being suspended…"

"You're not being suspended, Mr Snape. Merely sent home to recover for a time."

It had been horrible the way this young version of the Potions master suddenly froze, his eyes blank and black and fathomless. But he nodded acceptance, and replied to Dumbledore's gentle statement of "It is for the best, Severus" with a level stare that bordered on the insolent. "If you say so, Headmaster." The insolence faded when the headmaster ("Stay here in the Infirmary for a little while, Mr Snape, just to make sure you are feeling fit.") left to meet up with an ex-student who had come to visit members of his old House; Severus had looked so lost. Harry, against his better judgement, had stayed, frightened but not knowing why. He'd stayed, mutely clasping his hands together until they ached, as Snape wrote a letter then tore it up and burnt it.

He'd stayed and looked around at the sound of a soft knock on the door.

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"Go away."

The door opened instead.

"Ah. Severus. Headmaster Dumbledore said I could find you here."

Draco Malfoy entered. Harry nearly gave himself away with a gasp before he realised it wasn't Draco. This Malfoy was older – several years older than Severus, he estimated, and wore his pale hair long and swept back from his face.

Severus stood up jerkily, nearly tripping over his feet as Lucius closed the door behind himself. Malfoy's sneer was almost eclipsed by a kindly expression as Lucius stepped forward to shake hands.

"I just wrote you a… Never mind."

"A letter? Luckily I was coming by anyway. Old friends to catch up with, you know. And I'd heard you weren't well. It's good to see you on your feet at the least."

The line between Severus' eyes deepened. "Lucius… They're suspending me from Hogwarts…"

"Now, what is this all about? You are being sent home? What nonsense is this?"

Severus looked awkward and infuriated… and bewildered, as if he knew something had been taken from him but not what. "I've been forbidden to talk about it."

"What can you tell me, then?"

"Someone tried to kill me, and I'm the one being punished."

There was a brief silence.

"Dumbledore wants to send you home." Lucius rolled the words in his mouth, as if testing them for angles and edges.

"Yes. I… I can't go home. My…" He broke off, swallowing audibly as he looked down at the floor. "Lucius, you said once you could give me a place to stay for the holidays. Does your offer still stand?"

Lucius smiled, the smile of a tiger which has just had its prey handed to it already hamstrung. Harry felt like he'd swallowed an icicle and couldn't understand how Severus could miss seeing the threat standing right in front of him. But Severus was still staring at the floor.

"Of course it does. You are welcome at any time."

"Now?"

Lucius slapped Severus on the shoulder. The gesture was friendly, but there was something triumphant behind it. "Now. Get your things. Really, Severus, this is an excellent time. Couldn't be better, in fact! I have a new friend I wish you to meet, and he's staying at Malfoy Manor right now. I've told him about you and he's anxious to make your acquaintance."

Severus looked dubious, but Malfoy merely smiled. "I'll wait for you in Dumbledore's office, Severus. Go and get your things. What do you need to take?"

"Everything. When my father finds out about this he won't let me come back," he said bitterly. "I've embarrassed him for the last time."

"Well, you're sixteen now. Or is it seventeen? My word – seventeen… how time flies. You're of majority now. That makes things much easier. If you wish to continue your studies I'm sure something can be arranged which doesn't include your father. My friend is very influential, and I don't see that arranging a scholarship fund for you should be so difficult." Blue-grey eyes smiled in an attempt at warmth.

"Really?"

"Really. I expect he will bring great changes into your life. For the better. Go now, Severus," he added gently, making shooing motions towards the door. "Get everything you want to take. And meet me in the Headmaster's Office."

"My parents will –"

Lucius raised his chin. His expression became so determined and chilly that the room seemed to drop a couple of degrees Celsius. "– Will not need to be directly involved. Ever, Severus. Go on. I have lawyers who can arrange matters so that you need never see your father again."

Severus left. Malfoy stood in the centre of the room, looking extremely pleased. Harry seethed under his invisibility cloak, both at Malfoy's presence and at the fact that Malfoy was trying to do something for Severus when Harry wasn't able to – and no-one else seemed inclined to. But there was something in Lucius' smile that alarmed Harry – he could understand a determination to do something to help a friend, but there was something possessive and ugly in there, too.

Maybe Lucius really just did want to help a friend, Harry told himself, knowing it was a lie but sick at the thought of having to leave with everything still so wrong. Maybe Lucius didn't want to –

Lucius' smile grew as he idly rubbed at the inside of his left forearm.

That was when Harry hit him.

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Funny – the one he really wanted to see now wasn't someone from his past. It wasn't even technically a someone.

Harry discharged himself from the Infirmary and left for the field behind the castle and the uncomplicated company of a horse.

Simon wanted to graze, but he didn't mind if Harry brushed him while he did so. Harry worked the short-bristled bodybrush over the horse's ribs and tried not to think.

Gradually the gentle breeze threading through the heather and his own hair, the smells of the trees and fresh air and healthy horse, and the sun shining from the blue sky to raise rippling reflections on Simon's sleek black hide calmed him. Simon eventually decided he'd eaten enough and stood while Harry brushed him, eyes half shut and only the occasional swish of his tail showing he wasn't asleep.

Yes, Harry thought as he began to feel the tension working out of his shoulders, there was a terminal justice built into the universe. But the universe had given other things to take away the sting.

Like a beautiful day.

Harry threw himself down on the slope and rested his head on his interlocked hands as he stared up at the sky. A shadow fell over him. He jumped, then realised it was just Simon. Did the horse take it as his duty to loom over people? Harry wasn't sure if it was meant to be threatening, but when he raised a hand Simon dropped his muzzle into it briefly before raising his head again.

Oh. Simon seemed to think he was on guard. But by the way he rested one hind foot Harry guessed Simon didn't think there was much to guard against.

That was oddly touching.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. There was always the possibility that Simon would stand on him, but he doubted it. After a moment he felt a faint, moist breeze on his forehead and the tickle of whiskers, and he smiled.

He was asleep when Luna and Draco found him. They woke him from a dream where Dumbledore was presenting him with the cup for services to the school because he'd rescued Snape. Golden light refused to stay in the cup and spilled over the brim and Harry tried to catch it in his hands but it kept slipping through his fingers and he asked Severus to help him.

Severus – the Severus of twenty-one years ago – glared hatred at him, and when Harry protested that he hadn't accepted the cup to spite him, stalked away in disgust. "I won't be part of this hypocrisy," he snarled. "It won't hold truth." Harry, trying to follow him to explain about the nature of truth, was held back by Dumbledore. "Some truths must be a part of every time," Dumbledore said. And now the cup in Harry's hands overflowed with golden sherbet lemons while Harry tried to catch them all. And in the mirror of Erised his father had green eyes while Harry's were hazel. Then there was an earthquake and Hogwarts was falling down along with the wards… those bloody books were helping Voldemort, he just knew it…

He was glad the earthquake was only Draco, although he had a nasty moment, looking up at the blond, that he was looking at Draco's father, about to watch helplessly as Lucius pretended to do on Severus' behalf that which Harry couldn't.

"What's the matter with you, Potter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Harry sat up and straightened his glasses. He had a knack for going to sleep still wearing them. "Something like. Sorry. Just a weird dream." He took his glasses off and scrubbed at his eyes. The dream was fading, but something from it clung.

Then he had it.

"He hid it!" he yelped. "But not in the mirror this time. Come on!" He shot up and raced off down the hill towards the castle, ignoring Simon's snort and Draco's yelp of, "Are you mad?"

Draco and Luna caught him up in the entrance hall. Harry slowed to a quick walk, not wanting anyone to stop him for running in the corridors. "What are you on about now?" Draco hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Or tried to – he was puffing after the run, which ruined the smooth, clandestine effect he'd been aiming for.

"The trophy room," Harry whispered back.

"It's just the same as always. Trust me on this. Or Granger – she's been helping me clean the glass, too."

Harry ignored that. "I had a detention in my first year, and –"

"Really? What a coincidence. We aren't going to go trawling through the Forest for sick monsters, are we?"

Harry bit back the comment about it making a change from Draco stamping around in the middle of the Forest at midnight near where the acromantulas hung out. He closed his mouth and led them past the gallery full of suits of armour (one waved to Draco as they went by) and into the trophy room.

Even inside their tall cases (the glass was very clean, anyway) the silver cups were dusty. Some were looking a little tarnished, too; apart from Hermione and Draco, Filch couldn't have had too many detentions to supervise lately. Harry took out his wand and tapped the glass of one of the display cases. It slid open.

"There," Harry said, taking out one of the cups. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned since his first year. And neither did it deserve to be, he thought sourly, eyeing the engraving.

"So your father got a cup for services to the school. Well, lah-di-dah," Draco sneered after reading the engraving.

Harry's mouth pursed but he kept his voice low and calm as he replied, "It wasn't really him. He should have been cleaning these cups for a month and he got given a prize instead." And Severus turned into Snape, who became a Death Eater.

Luna, who had been silent so far, tilted her head and said, "The date… that's when you went to, isn't it?" She had that odd, determined look on her face again, the one that made Harry uncomfortable.

"Yeah."

"So the cup is yours?"

Luna sounded close to being angry, but it was hard to tell with her. Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry shook his head and said, "Sort of. It's a ruse, I think. Just not a very, er, tactful one… but Dumbledore said that while lies can hide behind the truth, it's easier for the truth to be hidden behind lies."

Dumbledore had said that, yes; and then he'd sat quietly with Harry until the return spell hit in twenty-six minutes later and catapulted Harry back to his own time and then, presumably, doctored most of his memories using the Sickle, hid the Sickle, and erased the last of his own memories of the incident. Harry didn't want to look inside the cup – from his first year he remembered it as hollow and didn't want to be fooled by what his eyes saw.

He closed them and reached inside with one hand.

It was slightly rough – the silver wasn't solid and the lining had some sort of spell on it which made his fingers itch. The cup wasn't more than six inches high but already his arm was in it up to the elbow. He wouldn't be able to reach much further without making his arm thinner or something…

Then his fingers touched something solid and wooden and faintly warm.

He'd last touched this a few days ago. Twenty-one years ago.

With a huge sigh of relief, Harry pulled out the Golden Sickle of Helga Hufflepuff.

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