Summary:: The wizarding world is involved in a perilous future, while 24 years old Harry Potter has to secretly ally himself to Professor Severus Snape in order to stop the rising of a new Dark Lord. HP/SS and some LM/DM. R&R!

RATING:: The rating is currently PG-13, but it will be changed to R when the time comes. There is SLASH ahead, and if you have a problem with it, do NOT read this.

Author's note:: Ah well. This is a really short chapter – about 7 pages – but chapters will get longer later. Oh, English is NOT my first language, and if you spot any mistakes while reading this, please warn me in your review. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:: The Harry Potter series and characters all belong to J.K. Rowling, The Goddess of The Quill. I'm just… um… borrowing them to make my humble attempt of a fanfiction. Don't sue, don't ask. YOU CAN FLAME ME THOUGH!

{ My Touch, Your Chill }

Authored by Felis Snape

Chapter 1

Murders and Meetings


As soon as he closed the house's door, the tall, slender man turned to the long and twisting alley, the chattering of the many unoccupied passers-by disturbing his already sensitive ears – which irritated him profoundly.  Cursing, he lighted a cigarette purely out of habit, and some moments later was definitely calmer – even though he still felt a tinge of annoyance towards those filling the already small space there was to walk on.

The man was what most female and some male would find attractive. He had long auburn hair, which was impeccably tied back in a black silken lace. His facial features where also flawless – while his face looked rather boyish, maturity was evident, as it looked sharpened by the years. The pale skin gave the impression it was made out the finest Chinese porcelain, contrasting with the long eyelashes framing his midnight-blue eyes that shone other tones of blue when reached by light – probably moonlight in his case. Burgundy robes - made of a material that only a select few would ever get their hands on - billowed behind him as he made his way down the alley. It was curious really, that a man with his excelling amount of elegance managed to walk unnoticed by the crowd of wizards that surrounded him.

As he paced on, a sudden a desperate shriek was heard from inside a house, and while it silenced most of people near by, it almost deafened him.

Still unnoticed, the man disappeared, a deadly smirk formed on the youthful visage.


The earliest lights of dawn woke the 24 years old Harry Potter, who had to his own displeasure fallen asleep beside the windowsill on the previous night – he had been reading a book, and even though he had acquired a taste for reading as he grew up to be the man he was today, there were some books such as Hogwarts – A History that were still not part of his petite list of 'extremely enjoyable books', or even on his larger list of 'readable' ones. Muttering darkly, he wondered why in God's name he had ever promised he would read the damn book.

Sleeping on the floor is not something the majority of people would find comfortable – be them wizards or not – and as he painfully stood up he found out he was no different. His back was stiff, a knot of tense muscles aligned along his spine and encircling his shoulders, to his further discontentment. After failing to unclench the muscles by stretching, Harry lazily dragged himself to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, so noises of falling water and teeth being brushed were all that could be heard. When the door was finally re-opened again, this time much more gently - to the Door's sake - Harry was looking considerably tidier and most definitely more awake. His hair, however, still remained the usual mess, but now instead of looking clumsy, it was looking more along the lines of 'sexy'.

Everyone knows that boys and girls change a lot during their life, both physically and mentally. Well, some people do tend to change less than others – but this was not Harry's case. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Harry had changed considerably, and I must say – he changed for better. He was no longer the small and skinny boy– even if he wasn't what I would call tall, he was not short either. His body was now covered in well-defined muscles, they were surely not overly defined, fitting him perfectly – a product of many years of training with the Elves and a lot of Quidditch in the spare time. Emerald green eyes burned in a fusion of experience and innocence. Yes, those eyes were the most marking part of Harry Potter – they had seen horrors, they were eyes of a person who had suffered a harsh life – and also, the eyes of a person that found the will and strength to carry on, never ceasing to find joy and beauty in living.

There was a scratching noise on the panoramic window, and Harry, who was now distractedly preparing his 'Effortless Everyday Breakfast' (E.E.B.), didn't seem to be hearing the noise (or maybe he was just plainly ignoring it). It was only when the E.E.B. was finally ready that Harry turned around to look at the window, giving sign that he had indeed acknowledged the sound. As he jerked it open, the extremely irritated owl flew in, and after attacking Harry, she headed for the cage where Hedwig was perched with her two daughters (Charmelia and Artemis), dropping and extremely crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet on the dinning table in its way. Settling itself between both daughters, the owl turned its back to Harry, who smiled knowingly. He was sure that if Hedwig had lips, she would be grinning. Well, she did hoot.

After he had finished with eating his eggs (luckily, the newspaper hadn't fallen on them – but it was a narrow miss), he reached for the paper, and the massive headline that caught his eyes made his heart sink.


Amelia Archemplot, recently named the new Minister of Magic, was found dead inside her own house, situated in the small town of Hillingtop. She was cruelly murdered by a deadly curse still not recognized by the Ministry. All the people that were around or walking along the alley that runs in front of the house at the time of the murder were interrogated, and none of them claimed to see anything unusual or any suspect. The Ministry will now have to solve yet another…

Harry sighed sadly, the memory of Amelia crossing his mind. Fudge had resigned in the middle of Harry's fifth year in Hogwarts, claiming that he hadn't been competent when he disbelieved the coming back of Voldemort. Many tried to replace him, but all failed, which led to an economical instability of the Wizarding World as a whole (of course there were some exceptions, such as the Malfoys, who didn't loose a Knut).  Amelia, a pretty muggle-born witch educated in France, became a candidate - after being the Minister for two weeks she changed the situation considerably, and proved to be the only hope of the Wizarding Society.

Now, she was dead.

Another sigh, as Harry searched his pocket for the owl's payment. When he had its five Knuts in hand, he put it inside the small leather pouch tied to the owl's leg, who left still glaring angrily at Harry (it looked like the owl had been…uh…flirting with Charmelia).

It was a moment before Harry decided what he should do now – he was most definitely concerned as to what solution the Ministry would come up with, and even though he could just wait for the journal of the next day, Harry felt this curious urge to see Dumbledore. Besides, it had been eight years since he'd last seen the man.


Some time later, Harry was already in Hogsmeade. He was not as tidy as he had been when he left his house, as a result of a disastrous attempt to apparate – he ended right on top of an old paranoid witch, who in return, blessed him with more than 12 different curses. Harry never had luck with these wizarding ways of transportation – the Floo Powder, Apparating, Portkeys and a couple of others. At least I can manage a broom though, he thought.

Harry decided it would be best if he went to Hogwarts using the secret passageway that he used in his third year at school. The passageway proved to be still open – no obstacles were in his way to Hogwarts. Actually, it wasn't noticeably changed, and Harry felt like a third year all over again as he paced towards that castle that now felt a tad alien to him. Deep down he wished Hogwarts wasn't changed, much like the passageway – he wished the building was still the homely castle that seemed to be trapped in time, as if the clawed fingers of time hadn't reached it yet.

And when he finally did get to Hogwarts, he knew that his wishes were granted. Hogwarts was still the same – moving staircases, living portraits… It was all still there, and for a second he believed he had never left Hogwarts – that he had spent only two days away, and not eight years. But then he remembered his years with the Elves, and his heart was at peace, for they were splendid years - when he had learned much of what he knew today, where he had felt and endless peace inside his heart. And some of the sorrow that had been in him when he had to part the Elves two weeks ago came back.

Knowing that it was a waste of time to feel sorrow when he was back at Hogwarts at last, Harry pushed the feeling aside, and picked his way to Dumbledore's office. He made sure he went through the less used corridors, and with tremendous luck, no student crossed his path. No one knew he was back in the wizarding world (in fact, few knew he had gone to study with the Elves… for most he had just simply traveled or something), and he wanted things to remain this way for as long as possible. Being the subject of gossip (again) wasn't the best choice of return. He shivered as he imagined a photograph of himself covering the front page of the Daily Prophet.

The Gargoyle that stood in front of the Headmaster's office looked up when he came, and Harry thought to see it grin briefly.  Before he could even start naming all the possible sweet that could serve as a password to the office, the Gargoyle jumped aside, allowing his entrance without even questioning him. Harry smiled gratefully, but this time the Gargoyle remained motionless, as if it had always been just a statue.

He knocked on the door twice, and a few moments passed without a response. He was about to knock again when the door opened. Harry lifted his face, and for a moment Dumbledore just looked at Harry, surprise and fondness in his eyes. Harry smiled, and Dumbledore did so too.

"Harry, I would never have guessed the day I'd see you again would be today! It is indeed a very pleasant surprise." Dumbledore pulled Harry into a light hug and then motioned him to sit down.

"Tea?" Harry nodded curtly, and after some seconds found himself holding a mug of some tea he couldn't recognize. "I imagine those years with the Elves were brilliant. I myself always wanted to live with them for some time, but they only allowed me to see them for thirty minutes!" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, in what seemed a gorgeous memory.

"Yes, they are beautiful. I remember I wasn't able to study during the first couple of weeks, all I could do was gape in awe as they tried to teach me!" Harry's eyes too shone with his memories. He sipped a bit of his tea, before continuing. "I'm glad I've returned to the wizarding world though. In the last years I began to miss the sight of humans, to hear them talk about nothing… Ah well. I guess I'll miss the Elves too!"

Dumbledore smiled lightly. "Do Hermione and Ron know about your return?" For some reason, Harry hadn't thought about warning Hermione or Ron, and now he felt butterflies in his stomach. How would they react?

"No, Professor. I know they got on with their lives, and now I believe that I am just a fond memory for them. Gods, I feel that way myself! Meeting them again will be very awkward… but I guess it must happen, sooner or later." Harry realized he had been starting to babble. I look like a first year, trying to make friends! Dumbledore was looking at him knowingly, as If he knew exactly what was going on in his head. He probably did know.

"Harry, Hermione and Ron always loved you deeply. They were extremely worried when you left without warning – if I remember correctly, you never told them you were going to study with the Elves. Their sixth year was terrible - they kept worrying about you. And so was their seventh year. I do not blame you, but I must tell you that it did hurt them a lot. Sirius too, was very worried. I'm glad you told Remus at least – he helped Sirius a lot, and told him you were fine. Oh, and do call me Albus, Harry." Albus sounded grave, and Harry felt guilty.  He was about to say something when Dumbledore continued "There is someone coming up…excuse me, Harry."  Dumbledore stood, and walked towards the door. Harry too, stood up, but went to sit in the corner of the room, not wanting to disturb the visitor (and also, not wanting to be seen). He chose the perfect corner, where a shelf stopped the visitor from knowing he was there.

"Severus! What brings me the pleasure of your company?"

It was Snape! Harry shifted position, and saw Snape look directly at him. The man walked towards him, curiosity in his face. Harry smiled, as Snape walked to stand in front of him.

Well, Snape most definitely was NOT smiling back.


The dull sound of leather-soled boots meeting the stone floor in a furious pace echoed throughout the corridor - any student who might have been wondering about that particular area of the dungeons at that time would have recognized the sound immediately and would have fled that area rapidly. In other words, run for their lives.  After all, Snape's stride was unmistakable, unforgettable, and most of the time, a sign of trouble.

So, as Severus skillfully made his way through the corridor, he didn't meet any crowds of loud and disorganized students – just a few quiet pupils who almost unsuccessfully managed not to whimper when he glared at them.

The destination the Professor was aiming at was soon reached, and Severus muttered the password – Casey's Cheesy Chops – to the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office. The gargoyle looked at him uncertainly, and after a few moments of speculation, (clearly she thought that Severus was a threaten to the Headmaster's health) decided to open the entrance for him. The Gargoyle too, was gifted with a glare.

As soon as Severus hand was almost touching the handle, Albus opened the door in the annoyingly precise instant. Albus smiled, the same old twinkle to his eyes, so warm – but to Severus it was also disconcerting.

"Severus! What brings me the pleasure of your company?"

Severus was about to answer when a movement on the corner of the room caught his eyes. Despite he wasn't what I would call curious (he normally wouldn't care less), unusual curiosity drew him to wonder what was it that was making those movements. For some mysterious reason he felt the heaviness of dread on the pit of his stomach. Still silent, he walked past Dumbledore, reluctantly, and towards the corner where The Moving Thing was – he couldn't see what exactly was it, as his sight was blocked by one of the many shelves stood right beside it, so only a moving shadow could be seen.

When he did find out what it was – or better, WHO it was, he felt his heart stop, his breathing process cease, and all he could do - strange as it may seem - was gape.




So he really had a reason to dread then. For sitting down on the Headmaster's armchair, holding a cup of tea, and now looking up at him with a smile – a smile – on his lips, was none other than Harry Potter.


ABOUT THE ELVES:: Harry left in his sixth year to study with Elves, and only  Dumbledore and Remus knew that. You'll find out he reason why he left later on.