Authors Note: Sorry for the long wait guys, Japan was a trip were I barely had time to think let alone write. I had it done as soon as I could. Thank you to my lovely Beta's Mishy-Moo and sapphyredragon-rn who got this checked over in record time. I've just started working on chapter nine now.
I know I promised it would be out quicker than this – I have had a lot of assignment and catching up in school to do…also I'm lazy…sorry for having to up with me

ATIMC – Chapter 8

Harry shuffled nervously in his seat as his best friend pinned him with a narrow glare. "So what you're saying is that – basically – you thought it would be a better idea to stay with a Malfoy…than your best friend." Harry couldn't help but wince when he heard Ron's tone; accusation was the first of many terms that sprang forth into Harry's mind.

"It's not like that Ron…"

"Then what is it like?"

"I didn't choose to go to the Malfoy's! It…it was a mistake…"

"You were in trouble…and you apparated to MALFOY MANOR."

Harry stood up, exasperated and started pacing the small space of the floor "I was hurt and confused Ron. I wasn't exactly coherent!"

"You said that you had to option of coming home to us!"

"I couldn't!"

Ron paused "What do you mean you couldn't? They had a working floo and floo powder, and by the sound of it, they weren't stopping you from leaving!" Ron was on his feet and his voice was rising.

"I couldn't go to the Burrow Ron! I couldn't! Staying at the Manor was a better option at the time!"

"Oh I get it," he drawled "you wanted to stay in a big luxurious manor, rather than come home with your family!" Spittle flew from his lips; he glared darkly at Harry as his face contorted with anger.

"YOU'RE NOT MY FAMILY!"

Both 'boys' froze as Harry realised the weight of his words reverberating off of the walls of the compartment.

"That…that's not what I meant Ron…" The colour in Harry's face all but drained.

"After everything we have been through…you don't even consider us family?" Ron's voice was eerily quiet, calm and leagues more terrifying than his previous rage.

"Ron I –"

"Don't Harry…just…don't." Ron turned to leave. As he reached out for the handle, Harry's own hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. The redhead looked down at the offending hand "Let go of me Harry."

"Just listen to me for a second Ron!"

He ignored the raven haired boy's pleas and yanked himself from Harry's grasp. "Come talk to me when you know who your real friends are." His icy tone didn't escape Harry.

"How could you expect me to go back when I went and got Fred killed?" Ron froze; the door pulled open a mere crack. How could I possibly face you?"

Ron slowly closed the door at Harry's almost mumbled whisper. "What?"

"I got your brother killed. I got everyone killed because I wasn't good enough. Would you have honestly wanted me there, while you grieved? I didn't deserve to be there. I'm not family, just someone you picked up along the way." Ron stared, stupefied, as his friend sat down on the seats, his eyes haunted with sights far older than he.

"You don't honestly think that do you mate?"

"Don't call me that." He mumbled "And yes, I do." Harry started to worry at his full red lips. A hushed quiet filled the stifling air as Ron sat down opposite Harry, trying to meet his eyes.

"I don't blame you Harry." His head shot up and Ron was finally able to meet his eyes. Emerald orbs met his own cerulean; they contained a depth that no seventeen year old should ever possess. "No one does. Do you really think that little of us… that you think we would blame you for what happened?"

"…I don't know. I just figured it would be best if I stayed away for a while." Harry sighed "I'm a right tit aren't I?"

Ron snorted "Yeah, for once it's not me."

Harry shrugged and gave Ron a rather sheepish grin from behind his hair "Yeah…Sorry, though. It really did seem like the best option at the time."

"Not much we can do about it now." He cocked his head to the side and gave Harry a bemused glance, "Anyway, how did you manage living with the Malfoy's for so long without dying? I mean, the whole lot are right menaces." He paused, thinking "You sure they didn't try to poison you or anything ma – Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes and stretched himself out on the seat opposite Ron. Folding his arms under his head, he turned to Ron, "Don't be stupid Ron. They weren't that bad. It was pretty good over there, he didn't miss the sceptical look the redhead gave him, "I know, I know, but it could have been worse. They could have just left me on their steps. I don't know. I didn't mind being there…anything is better than the Dursley's." He mumbled the last as he stared resolutely up to the celling.

"Well, as long as you don't start to cosy up to bloody Slytherins then I'm fine."

"Not all Slytherins are bad Ron." Harry said with a roll of eyes.

'The Hogwarts Express sped through the barren plain at a hurtling speed without a hitch, its wheels clacking loudly against the tracks as the two boys sat content in their compartment. Harry watched as the scenery blurred past, the tranquil view calming his turbulent and erratic mind. The compartment door slid open and Ron's whole face lit up when he saw Hermione walk through the door. His glowing face immediately fell, however, as a brilliant blonde head appeared behind the bouncing dark brown curls of his girlfriend. They both walked in dressed in their school robes, their Head Boy and Girl badges gleaming.

"We've finished our rounds; we'll be at Hogwarts in about half an hour. You two should go and get changed into your uniforms." She sat down beside Ron and leant on his shoulder.

"He can't exactly get up to change if you're laying all over him Granger." Draco sat pressed against the wall adjacent to the door of the compartment, as far away from the trio as he could get.

"Why are you even in here Malfoy?" Hermione nudged Ron gently in the ribs; he looked down at her with a confused look plastered on his face.

"I'm Head Boy. I can do what I want Weasel."

Hermione shot Draco a patronising glance, "Like it or not Ron, he's Head Boy. He has a point…to a certain extent anyway."

"But he doesn't have to sit here!" Harry rolled his eyes from under his hair, hoping Ron wouldn't notice; the whine in his voice was unmistakable and completely childish, but Harry couldn't help finding it amusing.

"Ron," Hermione begun sternly, "he's Head-Boy," she said the words slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a child, "and I'm Head Girl. We are going to be spending a fair amount of time together, you are going to have to get used to seeing us together."

"But you're not doing anything now! Why does he have to be here?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "As a matter of fact I'm here for a reason, so I am in fact 'doing something now'. Believe me Weasel; I detest your presence as much as you do mine. I'll be out of your raggedy mop of hair in no time."

Ron folded his arms and glared into his lap mumbling, "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Stop your grumbling, I'm only here to give something to Potter!" Draco stood up and strode over to Harry. He pulled out his journal and thrust it into Harry's face. "Look over the notes scarhead; I need to know if it is acceptable for you." Harry only smiled at the sneer that was plastered over his face. The blinding grin made something deep within Draco's stomach flutter uncomfortably. Realising that he had let his emotions flit over his face for a fraction of a second, he closed off his emotions and compressed his face into a dull scowl and stormed from the room; the door banging shut with a shuddering thud. Hermione seemed to be the only person who had noticed the flickering of uncommon emotions over the blondes face. She committed it to memory, she was sure it would come in handy later.

Harry looked down at the butter-soft leather book in his quidditch calloused hands. He ran his fingertips over the silver named embossed on the cover. The argent words 'Draco Malfoy' leapt from the leather cover with startling clarity. He noticed a small and appropriately Slytherin green ribbon sticking out of the fine pages, marking his spot. Harry followed the line of the ribbon with his fingers and gently pushed open the cover to reveal the finely cut parchment. Draco's familiar scrawl littered the pages. Drawings, notes in the margins and splotches splattered across the pages made it almost illegible to the untrained eye. It was fairly easy for Harry to navigate his way through the confusing text – after spending hours spilling over the boys notes and arguing over plans one got used to the penmanship of the one and only Draco Malfoy.

Hermione observed how Harry was enraptured by the pages of the volume Draco had so recently thrust into her friend's hands. She just couldn't come to grips with what she had witnessed in this one small train ride. She had been looking forward to this day for years. Being able to walk onto the platform 9 ¾ without any fear of threat or attack, to be able to meet up with her family and friends without the fear of being rained down upon by a raging psychopath. Though she had found it strange that Harry wasn't on the platform waiting for her and the Weaslys' she merely dismissed the thought, deeming it unimportant.

'Being met with the sight of Draco straddling Harry in the prefect's compartment was the absolute last thing she was expecting. Not to mention Harry leaping enthusiastically to Draco Malfoy's defence, eyes aglow and ethereal. She thought things had long since surpassed the boundaries of reality but she was sorely mistaken. To find out that Harry had spent a fair amount of time with the Malfoys' – willingly – was something she could not even being to comprehend.

Looking at her friend now she could not help but notice the way his fingers caressed the book of the silver haired boy. If someone had told her only a few months ago that her best friend would be smiling and cradling the possessions of Draco Malfoy she would have sent them straight to St. Mungo's without a second thought. But now she had to pause and ponder this. What could have possibly occurred between these two boys to soften the animosity. They were by no means friends…
Were they…?
Hermione had to second guess that thought as well. Walking in on the blonde straddling her best friend, sugar quill in mouth and gleaming expressions of both faces – that was surely the position one could find two friends in—good friends, to be sure—but enemies? Surely not? Hermione sat pondering this strange situation to herself for the rest of the train ride, not even noticing the sidelong glances her boyfriend kept sending her.

Severus Snape had never been described as a social butterfly. He was a man who was content with spending his days down in his reclusive dungeons with his potions and texts. Sitting alone in his lounge, nursing a glass of aged scotch in front of a roaring fire whilst cursing the world and all its inhabitants was an appealing sentiment to the snarky soldier. Severus Tobias Snape had fully intended on dying for his cause, totally willing to sacrifice his life in the war as penance for crimes committed. But once again things didn't quite go the way as planned. After spending months sorting out his final will and after years of coming to terms with the fact that he would die in the war, something had to go wrong.

Severus had forgotten to add one simple factor in the equation of his life and that one miscalculation led to the unwanted lengthening of said life. Harry Potter. The boy who lived. If not for him, Severus would be happily pushing up the daisies by now; though he doubted that anyone would go to the trouble of actually burying him. He still dreamt about the series of unfortunate events that led to his extended life. The memories were still fresh in his mind and he couldn't help but dwell…

4 MONTHS EARLIER…

Severus didn't feel the slash to his throat, only the blood as it spilled down his robes, soaking his flesh. He did however feel the agonising pain as Nagini's razor sharp fangs punctured his jugular. Severus had kept firm to his belief that there was nothing more painful than the Cruciatus curse . There was.

He could feel the venom surging through his veins like liquid fire; burning him from the inside out. He didn't miss a single second of the feeling of her fangs tearing into his skin over and over again. The force and ferocity of the snake had him barrelling into the wall; more so than a simple slashing hex. He could do nothing but slide down the wall and twitch as his motor controls succumbed to the utter agony that had long since sunk deep into his bones. Seconds morphed into hours as Nagini savaged his throat. He knew nothing but the pain he was feeling. It tormented and ripped at his body until he all but yearned for death.

After what seemed like hours Severus felt the heavy weight move from his chest. He noted a distant popping sound – the signal of Voldemort's departure – but he barely heard it in favour of focusing on his wounds. His limbs were lead, his body immobile, he could feel his strength slipping. The last of his mind slipping.

He was dying.

As he drew his final breaths there was one single though that permeated at the back of his mind. 'Potter didn't know. Potter had to know.' He knew he had to give the boy the knowledge he needed or both the wizarding and muggle worlds would descend into the hands of Lord Voldemort. One of the many things that Severus resented was that Dumbledore never told the boy exactly what he was and what that would mean for him.

He knew the minute he promised the old headmaster to deliver him to his death that he would have to tell the boy exactly what he was and what he needed to do. Minutes from death with zero control over his body, Severus shuddered as his clouded mind realised that there was no way in hell he could possibly get a message to Harry.

He truly lost all hope when he remembered the vial of anti-venom he had prepared for this exact case. What he hadn't countered for was the speed and ferocity in which the venom acted. He had seen Nagini devour many of her prey, but he had never really comprehended – until now – just how potent her poison was. If he could he would reach into his right breast pocket and take the potion, his only possibly chance for survival. However he could not move as every pore of his body just wept in agony. There was no way in hell he could ever move his arm far enough to reach the vial. He mentally sighed in resignation and accepted his fate.

But low and behold, just as Severus has accepted the world's fate, the Golden Trio came dashing through the doors to his side. He could hear Harry's voice next to his ear, pleading with him to open his eyes. His voice aquiver with what almost anyone would associate with worry; Severus doubted the boy would ever worry for him, even after all he had done for Harry. 'Ungrateful brat.'

Severus wanted nothing more at that moment than to die in peace. He cracked open his eyes in hope of relaying his intentions to the frantic boy, but as he did so an epiphany stuck.

Legilimency.

He couldn't keep track of the frantic movements around him. With all the strain on his body it took an unimaginable amount of effort to move his eyes to stare directly into the emerald orbs above him. Severus reached deep within himself until he found the final thread of magic that was keeping him alive. He felt the glimmering tears run down his sallow and paling cheeks; locking his eyes with the trembling teens he rasped two words in hope that his message would get across. "Take…them." He never took his eyes from the pair in front of his as the clinking and rattling of bottles faded in his ears until only the sound of the boy's and his laboured breathing resounded in his ears.

He barely noticed the ice cold sting of the glass pressing against his flesh; he was too focused on the green eyes before him. Those green eyes that had bought him the only happiness in his life; but just an equal amount of pain.

He could feel himself slipping. The very last dregs of his life dripping away. A hand warm with his blood cupped his cheek. It felt so good that he wanted to close his eyes in ecstasy, but he knew that if he did he would miss the last few seconds of that shimmering emerald green. He clasped the wrist against his cheek firmly as he whispered what he thought were to be his final words. "Look…at…me…" The tired old man finally let himself go as he felt a glimmer of happiness in his heart as he drowned himself in those Avada Kedavra green eyes.

However, when it came to the life of Severus Snape, things never went as planned. According to Minerva, whilst he had been preoccupied with giving the knowledge he needed…and dying, Hermione had been frantically searching her bag for what they thought at the time was the only means as to prolonging his life: a bezoar. Hermione Granger – being the smart witch that she was – thought it would have been a silly notion to traverse the country in search of Horcruxes without what she would consider to be a basic first-aid kit; which of course contained almost every piece of medical equipment that she could get her hands on.

After they had deposited the bezoar in his mouth, stroking his throat to ensure he swallowed, Severus had been quickly and quietly whisked away to Madame Pomfrey. By some unimaginable feat, Severus was still holding onto the last threads of his life as he reached the infirmary.

As Madame Pomfrey had been hastily disrobing the man to tend to his wounds, a small vial had fallen from the man's shredded robes; she was forever thankful that the man was paranoid enough to place unbreakable charms on all of his potion bottles. She could still remember the spark of hope the label on the bottle had given her – 'Nagini : Anti-venom.'

After a week in a magically induced coma and two weeks of unbearable bed rest brought Severus to the place he found himself at this very moment. It was the first day of the new school year and he was absolutely dreading the arrival of yet another new batch of students. His fingers traced the still angry, puckered scars that circled his neck as his mind wandered.

Once he had been cleared from the infirmary he had been under the firm belief that he would be promptly whisked away to Azkaban. It was, in fact, the polar opposite. Whilst in his coma, Harry Potter had played the role of his willing and passionate advocate. Though the injured man did not get of scot free – significant fines for his crimes had to be paid – he was essentially a free man.

He knew he could never be accepted back into society…ever. The first thing that he did when he left the infirmary was to head straight up to the Headmistresses office to hand in his resignation.

Severus hadn't thought that Dumbledore would have power over him from beyond the grave. He was wrong; Severus was certainbeing wrong multiple times in such a short period of time was surely a bad omen for his 'new' life.

Severus had always prided himself on being a man that read the fine prints of life. However there was one piece of critical information he had overlooked when he argued to become a teacher – his contract, or more specifically how long he had to stay before he could resign. When it came to his unique reasoning behind accepting the position, Dumbledore had drawn up a contract specifically for him. As his mind had been fogged by a storm of raging emotion, he had agreed to and signed the contract, {no comma} simply assuming that it would be like all other teaching contracts. It was the same. Aside from one particular clause: 'Potions Master Severus Tobias is required to fill the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until such time as Harry James Potter has successfully entered and graduated. From that time forwards, Severus Tobias Snape – if he so wishes – may resign from his position as Potions Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'A clause which the current Headmistress was only to point out.

"What do you mean I CAN'T resign!" Minerva's only response was a smile. Severus was sure the blasted old man was twinkling at him from beyond the grave. The thought didn't help his darkening glower.

"You can see the form and clause as plainly as I do Severus, accompanied by your signature as well by the looks of it." Severus didn't miss the sarcasm in her tone.

His face bubbled rage and his fists clenched at his sides. He started to pace in front of the fireplace, the flames further illuminating his aggravated features. "The brat HAS graduated you mangy minx," she raised a cautionary eyebrow but Severus took no heed, "now accept the damned paperwork!"

Minerva's smile dimmed slightly as she spoke, "I wouldn't result to insults if I were you." She saw him open his mouth for a sharp retort but something in the old cats eyes made him shut his jaw with a sharp snap, "nor is it the time to take that tone with me. Harry is in fact returning to finish his final year, along with a handful of other students."

"You can't possibly be thinking of introducing an eighth year class! The curriculum won't be able to handle it, let alone the teachers!" Severus knew he wasn't going to be able to win the fight for him freedom from the prison of a school. His emotions were on such a high, however, that he had to argue about something.

"No…there will be no eighth year." The man noticed her saddened face as the next words fell from her lips, "Last year there were so many deaths in the sixth and the seventh years that there are few enough students to combine them all into one level." She sighed as she ran a finger along the rim of the glass of whiskey that sat upon her desk in front of her.

"So I have no choice then. Potter is coming back so I must stay for at least another year." He didn't bother to try and keep the resigned tone out of his voice.

"You do have a choice Severus. As Headmistress if you really wished me to, I could make your contract null and void," his eyes shot up to hers. Instantly becoming wary at the sparkle he found in them, "but I would appreciate the help of our esteemed Potions Master this year." She looked at the dark man with a sly smile, "I would also appreciate the company of a long-time friend."

The two stood looking at each other for what seemed like an eternity; Minerva from behind her desk and Severus from in front of the fireplace, neither willing to give in. Severus growled deep within his throat and dragged a hand down his tired face, "Fine. Have it your way," He strode over the door and wrenched it open, looking over his shoulder at Minerva, "but I will have you know that I am not in the least happy about it!"

In his angry retreat he almost missed her saddened reply, "When have you ever been truly happy Severus?"

This was how the old Potions Master found himself in his current position: back at Hogwarts, free – with a considerable dint in his already limited Gringotts vault – and awaiting the fresh load of dunderheads that were currently on their way to the castle. Once again, Severus was not in the best of moods. He had point blank refused to attend any of the staff meetings on the premises that nothing could be said that he didn't already know; A statement that only made an old cat grin.

He was standing over his cauldron in his own personal potions lab as he waited for his latest brew to cool. As a result of Nagini's attack, he had been instructed to take one of his own experimental potions every day since his release from the hospital wing. It was created to heal inner organs more quickly so that one would not have to spend as much time in the hospital. In his case, Severus was taking it to quicken the healing of his throat. It was one potion that he detested making as it was complex and had to be made frequently – it had to be ingested before every meal to ensure eating would not damage his healing throat. Without the potion Severus could not eat. Luckily the man had only one more week of treatments before he was off the potion.

After the potion had cooled for precisely four minutes and thirty three seconds, he carefully ladled it into the appropriate vials – each the perfect size for the applicable dosage. He slipped one vial into the breast pocket of his teaching robes to take to the opening feast. As much as he hated having to sit through meals in the Great Hall, it was one of the few things that both the past Headmaster and current Headmistress would not let him get out of. He, however, simply took it all in stride and looked forward to a night of terrifying the first years.

As he strode back into his quarters he noticed the hand on his magical clock at resting on 'late'. He sighed, tapping his pocket to make sure that the vial of potion was still there. He left his rooms and head down one of the many secret passages that only the staff were privy to.

When he reached the side passage that led to the door that was adjacent to the teachers table, Severus recognised the chatter of students. By the sound of it Minerva had hushed the students begun her welcoming speech. "Well I've missed the infernal sorting…that's something." As he rustled around in his robes, consumed by his thoughts, he did not notice the distant sound of the opening of the Great Hall doors. Nor did he notice the whole school hushed at the stranger's sudden appearance. Severus pushed open the side door to the hall just as the last few drops of potion touched his thin lips. As he lowered the vial the first thing he saw was a head of flowing read hair. The hand froze on its path to Severus' chest pocket. He knew that hair.

Something inside of the man broke when he heard the woman laugh as she spoke to Minerva – neither of them had noticed his presence yet. He knew that laugh. Even though the woman's back was turned to him he knew exactly who it was, and it simply wasn't possible.

Minerva must have said something to the impossible woman because she turned to face Severus – from that point on time seemed to move in slow motion for the worn Professor. He didn't even notice as he dropped the empty potion bottle. He didn't even notice the school collectively gasp as their esteemed Potions Professor dropped a potion. The world seemed to shudder to a stop until it was only he and the impossible woman; only onyx orbs staring into shockingly familiar Avada Kedavra green eyes. He drunk in her form as his cognitive thought melted. Vivacious flowing red hair that brushed the bottom of her shoulder blades – her fringe did not hide her piercing eyes and their intensity; they were filled with far too many emotions to name. She wore a plain white blouse that was rolled up to her elbows. Her soft curves were accentuated by the tan leather vest and pants she wore. The hoodless and sleeveless foot length cloak she wore seemed to flutter around her feet, almost as if there was a wind about.

"Sev'rus?" The sound of the voice that he had yearned to hear for so long broke the poor man's heart. He watched as her eyes widened with recognition, "SEVERUS!" Her heartfelt cry was all he heard before he found himself with an armful of a green eyed, red haired, impossible woman.

"…Lily?"

Authors Note: BAHAHAHAHA! CLIFF HANGER! Love you all guys. R&R~