AN: I seem to be forever apologizing for taking so long to get out the next chapter. I have only myself to blame. Or... not. I'm a staunch believer in the philosophy "Why take the blame when you can blame it on someone else?" So... I nominate Joe Blogs to be responsible.

But none of that really matters at the moment. What does is that I have finished Chapter Ten, and I only have to thank my reviewers before I let you get on with reading it...

LadyAlyce: Mmm... slashiness! Okay! So, I've written more. Does that mean I can be expecting my leprechaun in the mail?

Katy999: Yeah, Ron and Hermione noticed something. They haven't said anything yet, but they something. Of course, the only reason they're not objecting is because they don't actually know who Seven is.

Cosmic Reindeer: *L* Just for you, there's a bathroom scene in this chapter. There was going to be two, but... Hehe, and no Sev the Vampire. At least not in this story. Glad you love my story, at any rate. ^_~

rhiannon: Yes, Ravenclaw was a good choice, wasn't it? Thank you for saying so. As for returning Sev to his real age, I haven't quite decided whether or not I will at the moment.

Saavik: ^_^ Glad you agree with the changes in names. It's so much easier to call them by their first names. As for the flavoured marshmallows: you can in Australia, so I'm guessing you can else where as well. Good luck finding them.

Lord R: O_O Thank you! I'm so glad you find my Snape believable.

lillie chan: Hehe, no kissing QUITE yet, but there may just be in the next chapter. As for staying young... there's young Sev, and there's young Sev...

frizzy: The relationship in this chapter between Harry and Seven develops slowly, but surely. Can't really say the same for the next chapter...

xikum: Hmm, I think that flirting-thing was more Harry being attracted to Sev and just wanting to help out... Kinda a mixture of both. And no, he's never had such a... *friendly* encounter as that before.

M. F. Luder: You know, I can't believe I've been so incredibly dense about your origins. I've finally figured it out now! *sighs* My parents went there last year, but they didn't take me with them. As for my story: Yeah, I'm happy with the way Ron and Hermione have been treating Sev. I just have to decide how they're going to react when the find out the truth.

powergirl: Hey thanks. Just something I dreamt up in the dead of the night ages ago.

Quickjewel: *rolls on the floor laughing* You know, I'm tempted to throw in super-happy Snape somewhere, just for the fun of it! But I never would. I don't like to take the characters out of character.

amythest: Yes, there will definitely be more HP/SS slash! I thrive on that! And thank you for all your praise. As for Sev getting his memories back, I think I'll let you wait and see for now.

samson: Hehe, I loved writing the missing fingers chapter. It was so much fun.

athenakitty: Ah, questions for the ages... Let's see... Maybe, Maybe, Definitely, Most Probably.

AN: One thing before I let you go, I'm not sure my characters aren't a little ooc in this chapter. In particular, Sev in the last segement...

* * * * * * *

Chapter Ten: Reflections

* * * * * * *

That evening, with the marshmallows, saw Ron and Hermione beginning to accept Seven De Marcos. Harry himself wasn't too sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, Seven was human in a way that Harry had never thought Snape was. He was intelligent and flawed. He was confused, and his feelings clearly showed. His reactions to any mention of James Potter or Sirius, or even Remus, were still vicious, but since it was coming from a seventeen year old boy, Harry found it easier to tolerate. Not that it still didn't get his back up, and the pair hadn't had a few spats over Seven's opinion of the Marauders.

Harry had started to notice that Seven's sarcasm was laced with an acerbic wit, and he appreciated it. And Seven was cute, but that was something Harry never noticed very often.

On the other hand, Seven De Marcos was still Severus Snape, no matter which way you looked at it. Only, Harry the only one that knew that, and he was forbidden to tell Ron and Hermione.

Harry decided to reserve his opinion until he had something better to go by. Instead, whenever he was with, or even near, Seven, he watched him covertly. And watching him, he began to notice things. Like the fact that he didn't often notice Seven until he moved. Often, Harry had entered their common room, and not noticed Seven sitting at his desk, or in his chair beside the fire until the other boy deliberately moved.

Harry'd observed Seven's singular ability to be over looked before, in the weeks before school had resumed, but he had never given it more than passing thought. But now. Now Harry realized it was because the other boy was so unnaturally still most of the time. Every movement he made served a purpose and it served that purpose efficiently. If Harry hadn't known better, he could have sworn that Seven was a using a notice-me-not spell. It was nothing like that. It was just the stillness, and something else. Seven withdrew into himself. Or more accurately, he never intruded outside himself.

Ron, like all the Weasleys, filled the room with his energy. When the red- head felt, he felt loudly enough for the whole room to notice, and Ron was always feeling. Hermione, you couldn't ignore either. Even when she wasn't talking Harry could still feel her as a soothing presence near by. Even Malfoy exuded a presence, one made entirely of his own self-importance, the belief that everyone had to be noticing him at all times. And if they weren't, he would make sure they were. But Seven.

Seven was very aware of exactly where his body ended and where the rest of the world began. And he *never* extended his presence past that point unless he had a very definite reason for doing so. And he rarely had such a reason. Harry had observed him in the crowded halls between classes. The hurrying students parted around him, never bumping into him, but never once acknowledging him either. And Seven seemed to like it that way.

Conversely, Harry had made himself hyper-aware of the other boy. He was always looking for him in corridors, in the Great Hall, deliberately trying to talk to him in their common room. Harry had the strange notion that if he forgot that Seven existed, so would everyone else, and the other boy would simply cease to be. And no matter how ambiguous Harry might feel towards him, he couldn't let that happen.

And deliberately seeking him out, Harry noticed other things about him. His hands for one. During the Potion tutoring sessions, Harry watched Seven's hands on the utensils: the sure quick movements with the knife, the deft stirring of whatever potion they were making, the flicker of his fingers as he paged through the reference book he never really needed. Harry found himself getting easily distracted by those hands, and studied them as intently as he should have been studying the potion itself. They were long, fine, dexterous hands, capable, strong and eminently suited to the art of Potion making. They were callused from holding a knife, a ladle, even a broomstick, and Harry wondered what they would feel like brushed over skin. And promptly tried to forget that he had ever even considered that. This was, after all, still his greasy, old git of a Potions Master.

Another thing Harry found himself noticing was Seven's voice, and he wondered why he never realized what a rich and mellifluous voice it was when Seven was still Snape. The first time Harry had really noticed it, he had been collapsed, exhausted, in front of the common room fire after quidditch practice. In a tired daze, he had been watching the flames dance and trying to convince himself to move when he had become aware of rich sound intruding into his stupor. It was like someone had taken a piece of sun-warmed velvet and pressed it to his cheek, caressing him with it. Harry had smiled sweetly to himself and turned his head towards the sound, trying to prolong the caress. When it had abruptly stopped, Harry had blinked his tired eyes open and found himself staring into the rather bemused eyes of Seven. He'd jumped up then, and run into his room, slamming the door behind him, still seeing the mystified look in those black eyes.

Harry found himself drawn to the sound of that voice thereafter. Whenever he heard it, his attention automatically focused away from what he had been doing and onto the source of the sound. No few times had he come back to himself to find an annoyed Ron and a knowing Hermione staring at him. Hermione's eyes would flicker towards Seven and a sly smile would spread over her features and Harry was flush. But he could hardly help it if that voice called attention to itself.

Like it had absurdly early one morning. Harry woke to the warm wash of that voice singing. Intrigued, he slipped from the warm cocoon of his blankets, fumbled for his glasses and crossed his room to the door from behind which the singing was coming. Closer now, he could hear that the words were Italian; the baritone of an opera Harry didn't even try to identify. Still not fully awake, and drawn on by Seven's voice raised in sensual song, Harry pushed open the door, realizing too late that it was not the common room door, but the bathroom door.

The door swung inwards and a great cloud of steam billowed out with the swell of the baritone. For a moment, the hot, wet air fogged Harry's glasses and he couldn't see a thing. But the fog dissipated and Harry found himself staring at the back of a lean form. Harry froze. A naked form. As he watched, Seven threw his head back to sing the finale of the song and his hair flared backwards with the movement. Harry licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to swallow. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the other boy leant forward to retrieve the towel that had fallen of the rack and was pooled on the floor. As the strong, white back disappeared from view, Harry's gaze slipped lower and came to rest on the smooth butt displayed. Harry swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth and his hands clenched at his sides.

Seven stood again and his arse disappeared behind a dark blue towel as it was wrapped around his waist. Harry dragged his eyes higher up the other's form, but still couldn't force his feet to carry him out of the bathroom as Seven flipped his head forward and vigorously toweled his hair dry with another towel.

Harry couldn't even move when Seven straightened and turned, and saw him standing in the doorway. Harry's cheeks flamed red hot at being caught staring, but his feet stayed put as Seven stared wide-eyed back at him. But when Seven's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something scathing, Harry turned and fled back into his room, slamming the door hard behind him.

He didn't leave his room again until he was sure that Seven had already left the apartment, and for the next three days, he went out of his way to avoid the other boy. But Seven never made any comment, and in the end, Harry decided it would be best for the peace of mind of them both if they just ignored it all together.

* * * * * * *

Severus saw Harry watching him and he wasn't sure what to make of it. It was disconcerting at first, and it was still disconcerting later. In the beginning, it had been hard to see Harry for the likeness of James. It was perturbing to think that the black haired boy behind those glasses was in fact the *son* of Severus's rival and not the rival himself.

But Harry was different. More reserved; less sure of himself than James had ever been. It seemed to Severus that Harry was almost afraid to offer himself to the world for fear of being rejected. Severus wondered at that. Here was this boy that was, by all accounts, loved and acclaimed by the wizarding world, and yet he seemed so insecure about his own self-worth.

Severus watched him interact with the people around him. He began to notice that he was only at ease with a select number of people and it was clear that even those closest to him - Ron and Hermione - still didn't know everything about him. Or even incredibly much about him. But what little they did know was infinitely more than anybody else seemed to know. Severus wondered how he himself had seen the boy when he had been Severus Snape, Potions Master. He found he couldn't imagine.

Watching Harry in the crowded halls as the students moved from class to class, Severus saw the way the boy kept himself between Ron and Hermione, as though shielding himself from the other students. And Severus could understand why, when the younger students, the girls and no few of the boys all swarmed after the attractive young hero. Severus bared his teeth at thought of the teeming sycophants.

The only time Harry ever seemed to step outside the protective flanking of his two best friends was when he was surrounded by his own year-mates - the few students in the school that seemed to even begin to see Harry for himself - or when he was confronted with Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco. If ever there was a replica of a parent, Draco was it. All silver and ivory in his beauty, and a vicious, sharp mind bent on his own self-interests, just like the Lucius Severus knew.

Severus watched the clashes between Harry and Draco with avid interest. There was an angry passion in Harry's quiet responses to Draco's taunts and Severus wondered how often the two of them had actually come to physical blows. He was willing to bet that Draco had come out of them the worst. And not only because Harry was the stronger, for all that they both possessed the same slight Seeker's build.

Harry was simply more. physically passionate. The energy of his bottled emotions translated itself into power and speed in his body. Severus had watched him fly. Not even James Potter had flown with the same single- minded determination as Harry did. It was as though he was fleeing some intangible thing as he rocketed through the air, twisting through maneuvers Severus would have sworn were impossible for someone who had only been flying as long as Harry.

The boy did nothing so much as confuse Severus. He was a walking contradiction. He gave selflessly of himself to help others, but was closed and reserved. He was passionate, but few ever saw it. He was the epitome of the Gryffindor, but from what Hermione had told Severus of the Trio's past adventures, Harry thought like a Slytherin. But what confused Severus the most was the way Harry reacted to him.

Severus saw the other boy searching with his eyes the corridors, the library, the Great Hall. And he felt the eyes linger on him for only a moment before they turned away and ceased their searching. But thereafter the eyes would peridocially return to him, as though assuring their owner that he was still there. But Harry never sought to speak to him once he had found him with his eyes, never sought to gain his attention in any way. At least, not outside their common room. Away from the rest of the school's population, Harry would try to engage him in meaningless conversation, which he always resisted.

And then there was the way Harry had smiled dreamily up at him that night the Gryffindor had collapsed in front of the fire after quidditch practice. Severus had been trying to suggest Harry go to bed before he fell asleep in the awkward position he was slouched. The boy had stirred at the sound of his voice, turning towards him and smiling a smile that Severus felt should be reserved for the bedroom. He'd stopped speaking in surprise and the hazy green eyes had blinked open and stared at him for a moment. Then Harry had jumped up and fled past Severus into his room. Severus was left standing there, wondering if perhaps that smile hadn't been caused by the sound of his voice.

That early morning incident in the bathroom hadn't helped any, either. Severus rarely indulged himself in singing; as far as he was concerned, he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. But that morning he had; never intending his singing to wake his flat-mate. Of course, it was possible that his singing *hadn't* woken Harry, and Severus preferred to think it wasn't. If it *had* been, than surely Harry had been standing in that doorway than he'd like to imagine. Long enough to have seen him in the buff. If, on the other hand, Harry had been woken by something else and had only just opened the bathroom door when Severus turned around, then that was okay; he'd already been wearing a towel.

But the avid look in Harry's green eyes, and the rosy blush that spread itself across his cheeks suggested the former. And Severus couldn't help remembering that night he had out-smarted himself with that curse. His skin still retained the sensory memory of the soft skin of Harry's abdomen that he'd accidentally brushed with the backs of his fingers.

After that second incident in the bathroom, Severus began to notice Harry on a purely physical level. The sleek muscles of the Seeker's body, the expressive green of his eyes, the rumpled black hair that gave the boy the perpetual look of having only just woken up. The hesitancy of his movements anywhere but in the air, where he was sure, deft and completely at home.

Severus was vaguely troubled by his latent attraction to the other boy. Every time he found himself eyeing Harry appreciatively, he was struck by the sudden resemblance of the boy to his father, whom Severus still remembered so clearly.

In many ways, Harry was just like his father - in looks, in particular: the glasses, the hair, the complexion, and the features. He possessed the same reckless Gryffindor traits: courage to the point of idiocy, self-sacrifice, suspicion of anyone remotely villainous. He was incredibly loyal to his friends and would never believe ill of them. Even his skill on a broom could be attributed to his father.

But there were other things that people over-looked, things that Harry could only have inherited from his mother. Beyond the obvious green eyes, Harry had his mother's slighter build and square-palmed dexterous hands. And it went deeper too. Harry had a Slytherin twist to his mind that Severus had occasionally seen Lily exhibit. He was better in his studies than James had generally been, not really excelling in any but Defence Against the Dark Arts, but succeeding in all of them, even Potions under Severus's own tutelage.

Harry was indeed the mirror image of his father. In appearance and at the surface, Harry was simply a miniature James. But like all mirror images, if you study them for long enough, you realize that, while it may appear precisely the same, it is in fact the exact opposite. Harry wasn't his father, he was the reflection of his father; the same, but reversed.

And Severus wished it weren't so. He wished Harry *was* an exact replica of his father. If he had been, Severus would have been able to easily dismiss that latent attraction...

* * * * * * *

It was only a month after the start of school - the beginning of October - and the first time during the school year that Severus had been to get his glamour renewed.

Severus stared at the mirror on the wall over Dumbledore's shoulder. The reflection staring back at him was one he'd gotten used to in the last two months. The auburn hair, the cream-tanned skin, the subtle shift in the tilt of his black eyes and the broadening of his cheek bones. Still, he missed his *own* reflection, the one he'd had for seventeen years.

His vision was obscured briefly by a haze of light. When the haze thinned for a moment, he saw his old face in the mirror, black eyes no longer quite so odd framed by the lighter hair. But the haze closed in again, and when it next cleared, it wasn't Severus Snape in the mirror, but Seven De Marcos.

"That's really strange to watch," Harry said, watching Severus's face avidly.

Severus sighed. He didn't quite see why Dumbledore had asked for Harry to accompany him to his office. It wasn't like the other boy's presence was required for the glamour to be re-enforced.

Dumbledore stood back and examined his handiwork for any flaws, "Yes, it is rather strange to see, isn't it, Mr. Potter? But can you imagine it from Mr. De Marcos's point of view. To look in the mirror and recognize only the eyes in the reflection staring back at you."

Severus blinked but made no comment when Dumbledore so very nearly voiced his own thoughts. The Headmaster moved back behind his desk and sat down, regarding the two seventh year students.

"But I didn't ask you two here to wax philosophical on the psychological ramifications of the long-term use of glamours. I wanted to ask how you are progressing with your Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment."

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Harry do the same.

"Um..." Harry hedged, "Okay, I guess. It's really hard to find sources though."

The truth was neither Harry nor Severus had even thought about that assignment since they been given it. It wasn't exactly like the topic they'd had forced upon them was the easiest to research. How did two seventh year students go about finding a curse that even the Headmaster of Hogwarts had never heard of before?

Dumbledore's expression didn't change, he simply turned his sparkling blue eyes from face to face and back again.

Severus sighed again. Obviously, the headmaster didn't believe them; "We haven't even talked about it yet, sir."

Harry looked at him, aghast. "Seven!" he hissed.

Severus addressed him without looking away from the Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes, "He didn't believe you anyway, Harry. Anybody could see that."

The green gaze burnt hot in a glare on the side of his face. Dumbledore chuckled benignly and made not comment on the by-play between his two students.

"Maybe I can assist you boys in finding a place to start from?" he suggested instead.

Harry stopped glaring at his dorm-mate and turned to the headmaster, "Thank you sir. That'd be great, because I don't have the faintest idea where to start looking."

Severus only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Gryffindor: too stubborn to ask for help in the first place, but almost pathetically grateful when it was offered. Instead, he only said, "Thank you, Professor."

Professor Dumbledore smiled cheerily and said, "Well now, why don't we start by reviewing what we already know about this mystery curse?" He gazed expectantly at the pair before him.

"The potion was bright blue in colour and smelled like honey and rue," Harry offered, "And the first part of the incantation was *Kronos*. I haven't really given much time to thinking about the curse..." he trailed off, having little more to offer.

Severus blinked. Something about what Harry had just said rang a bell in the back of his mind.

Seeing that Severus wasn't going to add anything, Dumbledore took over Harry's thread, "We have seen the effects of the curse," he gestured towards the disguised Potions Master. "Of course, since it was intended for Harry and not Seven, it is possible that it didn't work in quite the right way. But, to all intents and purposes, it appears the curse was designed to reduce Harry's age, to turn back time, if you will."

Time. Severus sat up straighter. That was it! Time... and *Kronos*! Or Chronos.

"Chronos!" he said triumphantly, earning an odd look from Harry, "Of the old order of Greek gods. The Father of Time!"

"The Father of Time?" Harry parroted blankly, before what Severus was trying to say sank in, "The Father of Time!"

Had Severus seen his reflection at that moment, his expression would have been the match for the other boy's - Harry stared at Severus with wide-eyed excitement. "The curse reversed time on you. Chronos is the name of the Greek god of Time. The spell is Greek!" he babbled.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face, "Good," he smiled, and Severus would have sworn that, had the man been a cat, he'd be purring, "You see, boys, all you really needed to do was sit down together and think about it to find your starting point. It wasn't even particularly difficult, was it?"

Severus and Harry shook their heads, feeling a little shamefaced.

The Headmaster's smile widened, and he fished a piece of parchment and a quill from the clutter on his desk, "Now you have a point to start from, this should help you to find the resources you'll need."

He handed the slip of parchment to Severus, who glanced at it briefly before handing it on to Harry. Harry gaped at it and looked up at Severus, who couldn't agree more. It was a note giving the pair unrestricted access to the Restricted Section of the library.

Dumbledore folded his hands on the surface of his desk and leant forward, that infernal smile still on his face, "Who knows? You may even be back to your older self in time for Christmas, Severus," he said, deliberately using the young Potions Master's true name. "But not, I imagine, before forging some new relationships."

He winked subtly, and Severus decided he didn't want to know what the Headmaster was referring to. The man always seemed to know what was going on before the people involved knew themselves. He seemed to have a sixth sense about everything that happened. And not just the things that affected his beloved school.

Severus narrowed his eyes. He had the distinct feeling Dumbledore knew more about this curse than he was letting on.

* * * * * * *

TBC

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AN: Hehe. I don't think I have any comments on this chapter. But if you do, that button down the bottom left will take you to a magical place that'll let me hear those comments.