Anachronism (3/16)
Friday, 14 May, 8:51 AM
In the morning, Severus returned to his desk. He called Strix, a fat, fluffy owl with cow-eyes, and wrote a note to Potter, asking for him immediately. He assumed that the letter would find Potter at work and, knowing the boy, he would drop everything he could in order to leave work and return home. He doubted he could get Potter fired. The boy could probably pick his nose at his desk all day and still get paid, but that didn't mean that Severus couldn't make his life more difficult.
As expected, Potter arrived in less than an hour, the Floo dust still clinging to his robes. "Is everything all right?"
Severus crooked a finger at a chair across from his desk and Potter dropped into it without question or hesitation. Apparently, buggering the boy was the only way to earn his obedience. It was such a disgusting thought that, for a moment, he could only glower at the brat. Seemingly used to Severus's glare, Potter pressed his lips together and drummed his fingers on the armrest. As much as Severus despised his doing so, he had to work with Potter. With a forced calm, he said, "I have searched through my desk and I see no notes on this supposed poisoner."
Potter nodded. "That's because you never did any research after he supposedly died-"
Never did any research on the man who'd attempted to kill him? It was impossible.
Potter saw the look on Severus's face, and broke in with, "You never listened to this theory of mine, but you never gave me an alternative explanation!" He spread his hands out in exasperation. "When you woke after I found you lying there, on the floor of your lab, you built this house and this garden, you brewed and made that list of potions, and that was it. And I know that the cure you made worked, I'm not denying that. But it was as if something prevented you from ever bringing up that man. Every time I tried to talk about it, you said it didn't matter, but you never discouraged me from investigating the matter, which, for you, is basically encouragement." Potter's mouth quirked in a faint smirk, then he turned serious again. "I think he put some spell on you that prevented you from doing anything against him. All you could do was defend, so that's all you did. You built the garden to brew and you brewed until you couldn't brew anymore."
For a moment, Potter's eyes glistened and Severus, fearing he would start to cry, gripped his wand tightly. But Potter composed himself and removed a pile of thick scrolls from his robes. He stood and laid them on the desk. Scroll after scroll after scroll piled on the corner as Potter described the contents: a list of suspects, five scrolls on the prime suspect alone; all the potion ingredients that Potter had been unable to identify himself, even everything Severus had ordered since the illness struck-plants, gems, and other potion ingredients, even the food orders.
"You like to get potions from unorthodox sources," he said with a frown after he had set down that thick scroll. "You also brought some to the lab when we first moved in together and you pick up vials whenever you travel."
Severus stared at the mound that had to be held together with magic to stop it from rolling off the desk. Six years was a long time, but it would take him weeks to read through the pile.
Potter reached into another pocket of his robes and removed even more scrolls. Severus sat, mute, as Potter began a new pile. Among the scrolls placed in the new pile was a list of everyone who'd died in the war, all the major headlines since that fateful day six years before, and numerous scrolls on the Death Eaters, including all suspected ones as well as their current locations. Potter finished the pile with, "The floor plans to our house."
"Our?" Wasn't it bad enough he had buggered the boy?
"Yes," said Potter, unperturbed. "We started living together when we founded our company. You said that it was easier to guard the laboratory if you lived at the same location, and I had the land. The company information, your Gringotts information, and other files are in your safe." Potter pointed at a seemingly blank spot on the wall. "The password, in case you don't remember, is 'On ne connaît que les choses que l'on apprivoise'."1
"You expect me to believe that I gave you the password to my safe?" Much less that he chose a French one. He didn't speak French although he knew Greek, Latin, Hebrew, could read Sanskrit, and muddle his way through most Brythonic and Goidelic languages.
"You told me shortly before you..." Potter swallowed and tapped the table with his fingers. "...fell unconscious. That's where your will is. I've not looked at it. I couldn't bear to while you were still alive. Severus..." It felt wrong to hear that name on Potter's lips. "I know you don't remember us, but if you could please look at those memories, it'll help you understand why things ended up the way they did. I...." He shook his head, then stood. "I have to go. I'm not finished getting everything ready for you. Oh!" He pulled out one more scroll. "A timeline. Very incomplete, but it contains all the major events." With a whirl that reminded Severus of himself, Potter turned and strode to the door.
Severus sat in silence. This young man was not the Potter he remembered. Still not a person he could see himself sexually involved with, but if Potter had prepared these scrolls without help, he was not the dunderhead he had been in school. There was not a single question Severus could think to ask that wouldn't be at least partially answered in one of the scrolls. Well, beyond the question of how he had ever ended up in a relationship with Harry Potter in the first place. That would have to remain the biggest mystery.
With effort and care, he pulled himself to his feet and, using his transfigured cane, hobbled his way over to the safe. Although he couldn't speak French, his memory and knowledge of Latin enabled him to repeat the words well enough to pop the safe door open. The wards put in place inside the safe were still intact, and the work was unmistakably his own, yet slightly different. It was unlikely that his ward work would remain unchanged in five years, but he did not dismiss the possibility that Potter had learnt to imitate his style. That required a high level of intimacy, though, and he couldn't decide which scenario was worse: that an idiot like Potter could learn his style or that he had become intimate enough with Potter so that the boy could properly imitate his magic use.
Hoping neither was true, he removed the wards, then examined the items by hand rather than by magic in case he might damage them. As Potter had said, on top of everything rested his will. He had left everything to Hogwarts in his previous will. As he stared at this one, he had the distinct impression that this was not his will but that of a doppelgänger. There were two Severus Snapes: one who had a relationship with Potter and one who could not stand the boy. Maybe he had lost his memories on purpose rather than stay involved with that child. Thoughts swirling, he Summoned one of the chairs and sat down to read.
In his will, he had given Potter nearly everything, even all his possessions. Only his personal, private Gringotts account remained separate, and he had given that to Hogwarts. He couldn't believe it. Almost everything to the brat. He wouldn't have been so generous to a single person, even in a will in which Lily would find benefit. Hogwarts needed money far more than Potter did. Severus threw the will to the side. Next, he found two Gringotts keys, Muggle bank account numbers, a safe deposit box, and the contract for the business he ran with Potter. Although he and Potter shared the profits evenly, he held all intellectual rights on the potions the company created, which meant that he could leave and sell the potions at a one hundred percent profit to himself. Why on earth Potter's solicitors had allowed him to sign such a lopsided deal was beyond Severus. If Potter had been the sponsor to fund the company, Severus could have bilked him of thousands of galleons, maybe even millions.
At the bottom, under his Muggle and wizard birth certificates, passports, spare money, identity papers, and certificates, was a photograph placed upside down. Severus picked it up only to throw it to the floor with disgust. It was of Potter. Naked. For a moment he just stared at it, debating sending it up in a burst of flames, but he wouldn't have put it in the safe if it hadn't been important.
Summoning it to him, he took a longer look. Potter lay sprawled out on a bed on his back. He was sleeping, his mouth hanging open a bit, an extraordinarily stupid expression on his face, even for him. His hair flying every which way, his scar was clear to the viewer as well as his penis: thick but flaccid, quiescent between his legs. As Severus watched, Potter let out a breath of air that stirred his fringe, and rolled over onto his stomach, displaying a surprisingly firm, round arse. Severus sent it, along with everything else from the safe, to his desk. In five years, he had somehow become a pervert. Or had Potter slipped that photo in there? He wouldn't put it past the brat.
Shoving the photo to the edge of his desk that held the vial of memories and photo album, Severus started to read through the thick stack of papers and scrolls before him. Catching up on six years' worth of life seemed an impossible task, but he was determined to try and accomplish it within the next few days. First, he needed to know what had happened to his fellow Death Eaters.
19:30 PM
Potter arrived that evening, still wearing his Auror robes. Behind him followed a tray of delicious-smelling food. Severus had been so absorbed in his reading, he'd not remembered to eat, and the smell of French onion soup woke his stomach.
Potter smiled at the rumbling. "You've not eaten all day, have you? I forgot to tell you that Kreacher obeys your commands, but I doubt it would've mattered. You never eat when you're in the middle of something."
The brat had to constantly point out how much he knew about Severus, didn't he? He probably enjoyed the fact that he now knew more than his former professor. Severus would not become a laughing stock or a target for his jabs. Time to attack.
"I do not know what sort of sick idea of a joke prompted you to put nonsense like this-" He jabbed the photo at Potter. "-in my safe, but I'll not stand for-"
"What is it?" Potter crossed the room, the tray hurrying behind him.
"Oh, you know what it is." Severus threw it at him, adding a spell to send it hurtling.
Potter caught it in one hand and stared at it. His face turned white then red. "What is-? Where did-? I can't believe you have this! You can see my scar! When did you take this?" He waved the photo in the air.
How in the bloody hell should he know that? It was blackmail, then? He Summoned it back. Potter grabbed at it, but it slipped from his grasp. "No!"
Severus snatched it and shoved it into his robes. Potter swooped in to search for it, but Severus pointed his wand between Potter's eyes and the brat backed away.
"You had no right!" Potter said, his eyes burning with the same anger Severus had seen for years. "No right!"
The question was, why would he feel the need to have blackmail on Potter? Did Potter have any blackmail on him? Severus sneered. "Yet, you sleep in the nude. Still an exhibitionist, I see."
Potter's skin flushed a dark shade of red. "I didn't then. Not unless... Gods. You fucked me and then you took that picture because you knew I wouldn't wake up." He ran his hand through his hair as he paced. "I cannot believe you. How could you?"
Apparently, buggering the boy was the only way to get him to shut up.
"I thought we were past that, but I guess not." Harry glanced at Severus, then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to fight." He dropped into a chair, snatched a sandwich off the tray, and sent the rest to Severus's desk.
Past what? It didn’t matter. Potter would reveal all in time. The boy was never good at keeping secrets. The question with Potter and secrets was never 'if', but only 'when'. Of course, for all he cared, Potter could remain a mystery.
As if on cue, Potter spoke. "In your mind, I'm seventeen, aren't I?" He didn't wait for a response. "You must feel like you've time-travelled. You go to sleep in 1998, not knowing who's won and you wake up six years later. If only there was some way I could just give you those six years back." Fiddling with his serviette, he asked, "D'you think that if we tried injecting a regenerative potion directly into your brain that-"
"No, absolutely not." The brain naturally forgot data it deemed worthless. Should they try to restore the missing data, everything that had been pruned recently would come back, but not the parts that'd been exorcised through magic.
"Why not? Isn't it-?"
"No." Would the boy really sit and argue each point with him? He would not stand for it. "Go away. I do not want to talk to you."
Potter crossed his arms. "I'm not seventeen. I've been your partner for six years and your lover for nearly half that. You didn't brew all those potions on your own. I can answer loads of questions for you. For example, Spinner's End. You've not got the deed for that, do you? Do you know why?" Without waiting for an answer, Potter barrelled on with a wave of his hand. "You blew it up."
He 'blew up' Spinner's End? It was nothing more than a hovel, but he had lived in that hovel nearly his entire life. He had spent years upon years building protection wards, hiding secret alcoves, turning it into an impenetrable fortress. To destroy it would be to get rid of the one place on earth where he knew no one could reach him unless he allowed them to.
Potter continued, "You're forbidden from ever setting foot there again. The Muggle-Wizard liaison manager was furious. He came to me, at work, to yell at me because he didn't dare yell at you. Former student of yours." Potter grinned as if he were sharing a private joke.
Severus glared at him. "Why would I-" It wasn't him, it was this doppelgänger 'him', this future self, but there was no other way to ask the question. "-destroy the place I've spent years perfecting?"
Potter's smile wilted and his eyes darted to the pile of scrolls. "I don't know. I don't know why you do half the things you do. I asked you and you said that it 'needed' to be done. Maybe..." He scratched his arm, avoiding Severus's eyes. "Maybe you thought that you didn't need to have your own place anymore since you had a home with me."
Highly unlikely. "Where are the rest of my papers? My Potions journals, the recipes for the potions I created?"
"Those are in our home and your Gringotts safe." Potter stood and strode over to the desk. He grabbed the floor plan scroll and flicked it open. "See this room off the potions lab?" He jabbed his finger towards it. "That's where you keep all the records related to our brewing projects." He tapped his finger on the map and it shifted up a floor. He pointed to the room labeled 'Library'. "You have a desk in here where you do research. Once we... became intimate, I made you leave the cellar. If I let you, you would stay there for days and never see the sunlight. You get plenty in the library."
"Sunlight damages books."
"Normally," said Potter as he sat down, his chair sliding over to catch him. "But we invented a spell to contain sunlight. There are huge windows here-" He slid his finger along the wall of the library. "-that let in light only in this area here." He traced a square inside the library. "We also placed one on the desk, so as long as you keep the book on the desk, it won't be damaged. There're reading tables and chairs put in front of the shelves outside the touch of light.
"We've invented a lot of spells and potions together." Potter bent forward as if he were about to tell Severus a secret. "You know how spattergroit is treated by bed rest because the disease disguises itself in the immune system and any attempt to treat the disease turns the immune system on itself?"
Severus nodded. It was why the disease was treated in isolation. In a healthy individual, spattergroit was an annoyance, but if a second illness was introduced to the immune system, even something as minor as a cold could prove to be deadly, as the immune system would not react while spattergroit had hold.
"We figured it was best to fight fire with fire. Introduce a disease that attacks the immune system and target it to the spattergroit. We used monkeypox, since it is rare for wizards to have had exposure to it."
Severus frowned. "Monkeypox, as in relation to chicken and dragon pox?"
"No, it's not related, it's closer to smallpox. The Muggles wouldn't let us use smallpox because they have a ban on it, but there is no such ban on monkeypox and it's not as virulent. We introduce monkeypox, slowly, just enough for the spattergroit and monkeypox to attack each other instead of the immune system."
"Impossible. Monkeypox has no reason to attack spattergroit-"
"Not naturally," said Potter with a nod. "But an infusion of Erythrocebus root in the base-"
"Combined with a Poxviridae Potion, which would be the only means of introducing the virus safely-"
"Would ordinarily result in a poison; however, mixing albite and this South American herb called Tamarin whiskers into the potion-"
"Stabilises the Erythrocebus root and negates the neurotoxins," Severus finished. Potter nodded, grinning. It was bloody brilliant. Why hadn't Severus thought of it before? So simple, too. Tamarin whiskers were used to balance ingredients in simple potions designed to perform non-functional personal enhancements such as permanent hair dye, but there was no reason that they couldn't also be applied to balance healing potions, provided they were combined with a tectosilicate like albite.
"Once we figured to add Tamarin whiskers and albite to the Poxviridae Potion, we made a whole class of healing potions for diseases once thought to be incurable. As you can imagine, with all the albite we need to balance the brew, they taste like shite. Worse than Skele-Gro. Before you took ill, we were working on a way to improve the taste because the patients have trouble keeping it down."
"Stevia should work."
"Except that it breaks down at temperatures high enough to metabolise the Tamarin whiskers."
Severus had never bothered to brew such pointless potions as cosmetic enhancements, but it was highly likely Tamarin whiskers would require intense heat. Potter had just corrected him on a potions matter. That fact, more than any memory, picture, or claim informed him that he did indeed have a relationship with Potter. There was no way Potter had learnt more than he without his help, and he never would have spent time teaching the imbecile unless he held some level of affection for him. There was no amount of gold that would be enough to overcome the pain of dealing with stupidity.
It also meant that this Potter was a formidable opponent. The boy he had left in the past had been easily led and manipulated. This young man before him had been trained by him and possibly knew his weaknesses. He had always been careful to keep himself emotionally detached to avoid these sorts of problems. Why had he not done the same when it came to Potter? It was one thing to train the boy in potions, it was another to give him the ability to defeat him.
He had arrived in a future where he could not trust anyone but himself, and he had new potential enemies he'd not had to consider before. Bringing down a powerful, cunning Harry Potter would be far more difficult than bringing down the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had been mad, and therefore easy to deceive.
Severus had no choice. He had to pretend to trust Potter. He let his lips curl up in what he hoped was a friendly smile. "You've changed."
Potter's face lit up like a candle wick bursting into flame. After seven years, Severus had never seen Potter look so ecstatic in his presence, and his heart skipped a beat. He knew he had the power to enrage the boy, but he'd had no idea he could make him look this...euphoric as well.
Potter lifted his hand, and for a moment Severus thought he would try to touch him, but instead the boy seemed to think better of it and ran his hand through his wild hair instead. "You have too," he said. "It's so bloody strange because it's been so long, I've forgotten what you were like then. It's almost as if you're a different man. I mean, I know it's you, I know that look when you think I'm being stupid, that voice you use when you're deep in thought about potions..." He took a breath and looked at his hands, his smile fading. "But you're not the man who fell asleep thirteen days ago."
Merlin, if he started crying, Severus would have to feign sickness or something. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a weepy Potter.
"I'd love it if you could come to the house. Not right this minute, unless you want to, but soon. I think it would be good for you to sleep in your own bed, sit at your desk, and brew in your lab. Knowing you-"
Enough of this. "You do not know me."
Potter blinked, his eyes huge behind his glasses.
"You knew another me," Severus said as quietly and calmly as possible. "I will never again be that person you knew. Ever since I woke, I have different memories, different experiences, already I have diverged from him."
"I know." Potter slid a hand across the desk, leaving it open and the fingers spread. "I know that. It's not 'him', it's 'you'. There're some things that never change. You're still a stubborn bastard. You're still arrogant. You're still dedicated and loyal and you're probably frustrated that I'm talking when all you want to do is learn about your surroundings." He drew back his hand and stood. "Eat. Sleep. You'll not be allowed mental acuity potions until you've sufficiently recovered."
'Not be allowed'? He was not a sodding child. "If I want potions, I will take them. I do not require your permission," scowled Severus.
Potter's eyebrows lifted, his lips curling. He stood. "If you can remember enough to break through your wards, you're welcome to brew them in the potions lab. Until then, Madam Pomfrey and I are in charge of your recovery." With that threat, Potter turned and strode away.
There was no need for a verbal retort. As soon as Severus had access to his lab, he’d brew his revenge on the smarmy prick.
1. French: One only understands what one tames.
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