AUTHOR: Iani Ancilla (
PAIRING: HP/SS (Harry Potter/Severus Snape. If you don't know, what are you
doing here???) It's *slash*, people, slash. Two male characters in love.
With each other. And taking it a bit further than longing stares and quiet
words. If it's not your cup of tea, do yourself and me a favour, and go
read something else.
RATING: R for later chapters. Right now it's quite G... sigh... the
drawbacks of having an actual plot, uh?
TITLE: Turn Back Time (if you come up with anything better, please let me
DISCLAIMER: Once upon a time, there was a wonderful woman. Her name was JK
Rowling, and she was most fair among the writers of a land called Earth.
She had great powers, and beside those she had something no one else could
stake a claim over: she had copyrights on Harry Potter and anything
related. Envious? Me too...
To say it plainly: I own nothing. Well, maybe a couple of mismatched socks,
but *not* wizarding mismatched socks. All right?
THANKS: To Dyane, who betaed this: you should all be grateful to her!!! To
Paoli, who kind of sold me this plot bunny, since she's into Ron/Harry
(ugh!) and any thought of Sev in bed with someone (and of Sev in general)
is enough to make her go eeew. And to Pol, also, who insulted me for it.



Chapter 1: Of Portkeys and Night-Time Tales

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
entered his office and sat happily behind his desk, congratulating himself
on the wonderful success of the Halloween Ball, which had just ended. If he
was concerned about the Death Eater meeting that his Potions Master had
been summoned to earlier that night, he didn't show it in the least as he
rummaged through a couple of drawers before finding a box of lemon drops
and settling for a nice munching session. After all, Professor Snape had
been a spy for their cause for years now, why should things go bad that
very night?
Thus his shock was easily excusable, when suddenly two figures appeared out
of thin air in the middle of the room, ending up in a tangled mess of limbs
sprawled out on the carpet before his desk. A quick glance was enough for
him to tell one of the two was unconscious -or dead-, while the other
seemed to be quite all right. The Headmaster rose quickly from his chair as
the conscious one raised his head and fixed wide, emerald eyes on him from
behind thick glasses. Then the boy, who Dumbledore had with some
astonishment recognized as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, immediately
began checking his companion as if in search of a sign of life.
Questions were crowding the Headmaster's mind that he had no answers to,
something which didn't happen very often. How had Harry appeared like that
on school grounds? Who was the black-clad figure in the boy's lap? Why
wasn't Potter in Gryffindor Tower? and a hundred more questions raced
through his head. His mind was working at light speed as he crouched down
on the floor beside the boy, taking what appeared to be a young thin man
into his arms and assessing, with a breath of relief, that he was just
unconscious, and that he didn't seem wounded nor hurt in any way.
Paying great attention while he moved the black-clad boy to lay him down on
his desk, the elder wizard started questioning the Gryffindor:
"Harry, what happened? Who's thi-" Dumbledore blanched as the second
figure's face came fully into the candle-light... didn't he look familiar?
Yes, surely... yes, he looked almost like- but no, how could it be?
Nevertheless... The old wizard knew only too well those sharp features, the
pale complexion, the jet-black hair, the brow furrowed into a scowl even
when it should be distended in sleep or unconsciousness... Had there been
any doubts in the Headmaster's mind they would have been dispelled by the
large hooked nose, as much a distinguishing trait of the Snape household as
the family crest itself.
A slight nod from the Boy-Who-Lived was the only answer he got, but he
didn't need much confirmation. After all, he knew Severus... Had known him
since the Sorting Hat had put the boy into Slytherin, thirty-one years
before. Thirty-one years before, yes. Severus was now forty-two. So, why
was he looking exactly the same as he had at seventeen?


A short time later the Headmaster, Harry Potter, and an unconscious
seventeen-year-old-looking Severus Snape under mobilicorpus made their
entrance into the Hospital Wing, where Poppy Pomfrey had a bed and various
healing potions ready in expectation of the Potions master's return from
his spying session. As soon as the medi-witch confirmed the Slytherin was
just in some sort of unnatural sleep, Harry was asked to sit down and
explain the situation as far as he could.
Sitting on a spare bed, the Boy-Who-Lived closed his eyes and took in a
deep breath, and after a few moments he began telling his tale.
"I was going back to Gryffindor tower soon after the Ball. I was alone
since I'd stayed a bit to chat with Sir Nicholas after Ron and 'Mione had
gone off to the dorms... As I approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, I
saw Crabbe, Goyle and Bullstrode coming towards me. I was surprised, since
they're not even supposed to know where, exactly, our dorms are, but then
we started to quarrel and I didn't really think of it anymore.
Suddenly, Bullstrode took something out from under her robe and threw it at
me. I- I caught it out of reflex.
It was a Portkey."
The last sentence had been just whispered, and the boy had his eyes shut
tight. Considering his past experience with Portkeys, it didn't come as a
shock that he could be troubled by the memory.
"I felt myself landing on grass, and I could sense people around me, but I
couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. It was all just too much like fourth
year... when Cedric..."
Harry halted with a sob, and opened green eyes glimmering with tears to
stare at Dumbledore and the medi-witch, who were looking at him
"At last I did open my eyes, and..." the boy's voice broke slightly, but he
didn't stop, and went on in a quivering tone "...Death Eaters were all
around me, and then there was Voldemort. We were in a clearing of some
sort... I don't know where...
"Voldemort began to talk to me, while two Death Eaters had me in a body
bind and took my wand. He said that I wouldn't hinder his plans anymore,
and that since Avada Kevadra seemed to just bounce off me he'd have to...
to annihilate me in some other way.
He raised his wand and started casting something complex. I couldn't even
understand what language it was in... Some of it sounded like parseltongue,
but not quite it... He chanted and chanted, until after a bit I heard one
of the Death Eaters who were holding me gasp..."
Here Harry stopped, staring into space for a moment, and then lowering a
thoughtful gaze onto Snape's sleeping face. He didn't seem to realize that
they were waiting for him to continue, so the Headmaster cleared his throat
and gently prodded him to go on.
"What happened, Harry? How did you counter the spell? How did you escape?"
This brought Harry's gaze back to the Headmaster's face, and he stared
sharply into the twinkling blue eyes.
"Who told you I did? Who told you I did *anything*?"
The Headmaster was at a loss at Harry's vehemence, and so it was Madam
Pomfrey who answered Harry's question:
"Well, you *did* come back. You must have done something to get away-"
Harry cut her off sharply:
"I didn't. I simply stood there waiting for the spell to end my life."
"Then wha-"
"The Death Eater who had gasped crouched down and handed me a potion vial.
I felt the body bind weaken, but I still couldn't move enough to grasp the
vial or to run away. The other Death Eaters started hexing the one next to
me, so I guessed the vial wasn't part of the plan, and maybe he was trying
to help me. Voldemort didn't even notice anything was amiss; I think the
spell held his total concentration.
Then the one who was trying to hand me the vial took off his mask. It- it
was Snape... He stood up in front of me, and thrust the vial into my hands,
saying... saying that it was a Portkey to Hogwarts, and then..."
"Then what, Harry?"
"He fell, he'd taken the spell in my place... I saw him falling, falling to
the ground... I- I managed to open the vial and pour the potion onto both
of us. It activated immediately. You know the rest."
A long silence stretched in the infirmary, as Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey
let all which had been told sink in, and Harry gazed at Snape's form lying
still on the white bed.
At last, it was the Headmaster who broke the quiet.
"So his cover has been blown at last. This war will be much more difficult
without him."