Title: The Man Who Cannot Die
Rating: CRACK
Pairing: Do you really even have to ask? Really?
Summary: What, and give it away? Oh, and completely disregards the epilogue. Because it's CRACK and why not?

All Harry really wanted to do, having explained everything to his friends, was head up to Gryffindor Tower and sleep in a proper bed for the first time in months. Forget Dumbledore, Voldemort, the Deathly Hallows...if he could just make it up to Gryffindor Tower and get in bed, he was certain his life would be complete.

Alas, it was not meant to be. At least, not yet.

Standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the Headmaster's office was Snape, who looked rather worse for the wear but very much alive and well and...honestly, pretty pissed.

"You've got to be kidding me. It can't be over yet! I can't have missed it!" Snape lamented while he looked up at the trio, who had frozen mid-descent on the staircase and stared at him. Then he seemed to do a double-take at Harry and added, "Wait, aren't you supposed to be dead?"

Harry's jaw dropped, partly in shock and partly in indignation. "Thanks for the vote of confidence! And that's supposed to be my line, isn't it? I watched you die!"

"Pish tosh..." Snape muttered, waving a hand nonchalantly. "Everyone knows I can't die."

This earned him a slow blink all around. Snape cocked an eyebrow waiting for the inevitable...

"What are you talking about, professor? Why wouldn't you be able to die?" Ah, he knew Granger wouldn't let him down.

"It's actually a rather long story and one I'm sure none of you want to wait around to listen to." Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but then Snape continued. "You see, it all began in the year 1941..."

"1941? But you shouldn't have..."

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for interrupting. Let me finish my story." Snape cleared his throat, then continued. "The year was 1941 and I was a simple time agent cum con man posing as an American volunteer in the RAF. It was during the time of the Blitz..."

"...This sounds awfully familiar..."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. It was during the time of the Blitz, and strange doings were afoot. People with gas masks for faces...you know how it is. Anyway, it was at that time that I met a remarkable man known only as..."

"...Let me guess, 'The Doctor'..."

"...The Doctor." Snape glared at Hermione. "I'm sorry, did you want to tell the story, or should I?"

"That depends, does it involve you going to the 2001st century, dying, then being brought back to life?" Hermione asked sweetly. Snape scowled while Ron and Harry just looked between the two of them, confused.

"What would you know about it? Who told you?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Oh, honestly..." Hermione shook her head. "If you didn't want to tell us how you survived, you could have just said..."

"But that's precisely what I'm trying to explain!" Snape shot back, irritated. "But clearly, you're not interested."

"No, no, we're interested, Professor," Harry quickly joined in. "Please. We're interested."

Snape leered. "Are you now?" Harry felt himself flush. Ron looked even more confused. "And just how interested are you, Mister Potter...?"

"For God's sake!" Hermione threw up her hands and stormed past Harry down the steps, pushing past Snape as she headed for Gryffindor Tower.

"What's her problem?" Ron muttered, then noticing that Snape was still looking at Harry in a most unsettling way, and Harry seemed to be giving Snape much of the same, decided a tactful exit was in order. "Ah...I'll just go, um, follow her then, shall I?" And he quickly hurried down the stairs and off toward Gryffindor Tower.

"Well, Potter? How did you survive?" Snape asked, moving closer.

"Who, me?" Harry asked, flushing attractively as he felt himself warm up. "Oh, I was a Horcrux."

"You don't say..."

"What about you? You don't really expect me to believe you traveled in time..."

"And why not? Do Time Turners not exist?" Snape asked, smirking and getting very much into Harry's personal space. Harry leaned back against the railing on the stairs.

"Well, yes, but..."

"'But'?"

Harry swallowed thickly. Snape was awfully close... "You do realize I'm not my mum, right?"

Snape wanted to slap the boy. "Really? It must have been that stubble on your chin that got me confused..."

"Hey!" But any further protest Harry might have come up with was lost when Snape's lips descended onto his, tongues finding each other in an intimate oral waltz.

After a bit, Snape pulled away, panting. "So what do you say, Potter? Fancy a victory shag?"

Harry looked up at him muzzily. "Depends. Will you tell me how you survived after?" Snape snorted.

"If you manage to stay conscious, certainly."

Harry grinned.