78

Severus felt warm hands lift his batlike body gently from the dark, safe pocket that had enclosed him. He had very little sense of what was happening, but felt trust that the hands meant him no harm. Voices swept through his mind, incomprehensible and yet familiar. He felt a glowing sense of contentment.

Then magic struck him, and his body expanded in ever-increasing awareness of his circumstances.

He was standing in a familiar cavern, the Gate of Worlds arching quiet and still beside him. Around him were the beaming faces of the otherworlders - only now it was he who was otherworldly, smuggled through the Gate by these people - his friends. His simple bat emotions were abruptly replaced by a swell of human hope and gratitude, of happiness. They hadn't left him behind. They wanted him here. Enough to break all the rules.

His gaze lingered on Hermione's smile, then shifted to his older self.

"I didn't think…" he said, before he caught himself and reigned the words in.

"That I would allow it?" the man said. "I, more than anyone, can understand what this means to you."

Severus flushed at the open acknowledgment of their feelings, but there was nothing but compassion in the watching Gryffindors' eyes.

"It is, perhaps, irresponsible," the older man added. "But given that Dumbledore was once willing to send two third-years back in time to save a hippogriff…"

Harry snorted.

"Irresponsibility suits you," Ginny said. "And I liked your 'Bat of the Dungeons' hint - very subtle."

"It was a brilliant plan," Hermione agreed.

"I'm just sorry we won't get to see their faces when they try to Transfigure the bat back into Severus," Ginny said.

"What did you use, incidentally?" the older Severus asked. "I was surprised you were able to fool Dumbledore."

"It was a Decoy Detonator. George has been working on enchantments to link a person's magical signature to them, so they trigger the Homenum Revelio spell in the wrong location, you know? The one I had was just a prototype, but obviously it worked well enough."

"Indeed," the older Severus replied. "Mr. Weasley is capable of impressive magic, when he chooses to apply himself to something useful."

Ginny grinned. "I'll tell him you said so. Of course, some of us think laughter is useful, Uncle Sev."

Severus watched his older self's eyes narrow, but he said nothing.

"Do you think they'll come after us?" Hermione asked, glancing in worry at the Gate. "When they realize?"

"Hopefully Dumbledore will realize there's more of a risk in following us than in just letting Severus stay," Harry said. "Although, I don't know, maybe Dumbledore would jump at the excuse to go through…"

"You don't think we should seal it up?" Hermione asked tentatively, looking at the older Severus. "The Gate?"

Severus watched the older man hesitate. "I think… not," he said finally, doubtfully.

Harry stared at him. "You're not planning to go through again?"

Severus hesitated once more, then said, "No, not as such. But it might be… hasty… to eliminate the possibility entirely. There may still be much to be learned from the Gates, even while remaining in our own reality."

"It's true, we had barely started our research," Hermione said, biting her lip, clearly torn between the idea of losing an academic opportunity and the idea of risking Severus.

"I suppose I'll just have to be on the lookout for kidnapping attempts," Severus said.

"It won't be easy," his older self said, focusing on him. "We may face threats from our reality as well as yours. I am not well liked -"

The Gryffindors objected immediately, with Harry, the loudest, saying, "There are plenty of people who like you -"

"There are far more who do not," the older man said firmly. "And it is more than likely that they might be as quick to target my son as myself."

"Your son?" Severus asked, his heart beating strangely. "Not your nephew?"

His older self grimaced. "Savage was easily able to deduce that you could not be my nephew. Others will do the same. It is almost certain that you would be assumed to be my son, and I would much rather acknowledge the fact openly - however dishonestly - than appear to have covered it up."

"Good thinking," Ginny said. "I can just imagine how Rita Skeeter would write it - 'Snape Lies About Son's Identity, Denies Murdering Boy's Mother Despite Rumors' -"

"She might be writing that anyway," Harry said darkly.

"I expect she will," the older Severus said. "No doubt the Ministry will wish to investigate…"

"Kingsley won't," Harry said.

"He may not have a choice, if the public demands it."

"Well, we'll just have to make sure Severus is seen with us - by which I mean you, Harry - as much as possible," Ginny said. "People won't be too inclined to bother him then. I mean, except for autographs."

Both of the Snapes and Harry flinched. Anxiety hovered at the edges of Severus's nerves, the sudden awareness of just how much he had committed himself to - a new life, a new identity, a new world. Moments ago, the thought had been thrilling, but doubts began to surge now. What if he couldn't fit in? What if he messed up, and his new friends decided they'd made a mistake? What if -

Hermione stepped closer to him, catching his eye as she slid her hand into his.

What if Hermione didn't want him anymore?

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, "You're not sorry you came, are you?"

He looked at her, feeling foolish for his doubts, and blushing at the thoughts that had arisen with her lips so near his face. "No. You?"

She offered him a small, secret smile, just for him. "No."

The others were either oblivious, or, more likely, ignoring them on purpose. Ginny was still talking about Rita Skeeter.

"Of course, there's also the danger she'll write that you're brothers -"

"Brothers?"

"You know - with Snape being in love with your mum -"

The older Severus looked appalled. Harry groaned. "She will, won't she? That'd make an even better story than Snape murdering some unknown woman. She'll write that he slipped my mum a love potion, or that - that my mum was having an affair -"

"And secretly had a baby," Ginny said. "Maybe while she was in hiding… Maybe that was the real reason they went into hiding, not the prophecy -"

"Maybe my dad was trying to keep her away from Snape -"

"Maybe Riddle was after baby Snape all along -"

"Maybe baby Snape actually defeated him that night, and I've been taking the credit all these years -"

"For Merlin's sake," the older Severus said, still looking appalled, but with a curve of his lips proving he was unable to entirely suppress his amusement.

"Does that make us friends or rivals?" Severus asked Harry, also amused.

"Who knows?" Harry said. "Rita will probably be speculating about it for years."

"She'll write a book about it," Ginny said. "'The Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Secretly Lived' -"

"- 'The Half-Blood Half-Brothers Doomed to Hate Each Other,' or some rubbish," Harry finished. "No doubt there'll be a prophecy about the two of us having to kill each other or something."

"I expect one of you will be destined to become a Dark Lord, and the other will have to defeat him," Hermione said.

"But which one?" Ginny asked dramatically. "Is it 'noble Harry Potter, with his flashing green eyes and Hungarian Horntail tattoo' or is it 'the mysterious Severus, Jr., rumored to be dating his half-brother's former girlfriend -'"

There was such an outcry from Harry and Hermione at this that the cavern echoed with it, and Severus could tell from the smirk on his older self's face that there must be some story here, evidently mortifying to them both.

"Rita wrote that about us once," Hermione said, red-faced as she looked up at Severus. "And he -" she pointed at his older self, "decided to read the article to the whole class!"

"You were reading Witch Weekly during my lesson, Miss Granger. The punishment was wholly deserved."

"We should have waited until after," Hermione conceded. "But honestly! The way you read it!"

"I read it with no less glee than you seem to feel anticipating what Rita Skeeter will be writing about me."

"She'll be writing it about all of us," Harry said. "And like Ginny said, sometimes laughter is useful. The alternative after reading Rita's articles is usually to vomit…"

"Or cry," Hermione said.

"I can assure you, I shall do neither," the older Severus said. "Although I might hex her, if I catch her buzzing around."

"Do you really think she'll write all that?" Severus asked, still not sure how much they were joking.

His older self looked pained. "I wish I could doubt it. But I think 'The Boy Who Lived' knows better than anyone what Skeeter is likely to write."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's bound to be something like that. Although she usually comes up with a few extra nasty details we weren't expecting."

"Don't worry about it," Ginny said bracingly. "You'll probably get a lot of hate mail - and a lot of mad witches proposing to you - but we've all gotten pretty good at sorting out the mail we don't want to read. We'll teach you."

Severus nodded, apprehensive, but reassured that the others weren't, especially when Hermione squeezed his hand.

"Anyway, once people get over the shock, they'll barely think anything of it," Ginny said. "Honestly, I'm more worried about Ron."

Severus couldn't miss Harry's wince, but Hermione said defensively, "It's not like he's never left us!"

"I more meant about, you know, you and Sev."

Hermione blushed, her gaze darting up to Severus. He was glad to see that, despite the evident dread she felt for introducing him to this Ron Weasley, there was still a warm spark in her eyes the moment they met his.

Weasley would just have to deal with it, wouldn't he?

"Personally," his older self said, "I am more concerned about your mother's reaction, Miss Weasley. And yours, Miss Granger."

All of the Gryffindors flinched.

"Well," Ginny said, after a long pause. "Best get it over with, shall we?"

The boat ride from Azkaban was long and cold, punctuated with rough waves and stinging rain. Though the Dementors were long gone in their world, Harry nonetheless felt that the warmth and brief, relieved happiness were draining out of them. Hermione was holding Severus's hand, but gazing pensively toward the sea, though whether she was contemplating the impending meeting with her mother or the suffering they'd left behind, he couldn't tell. Ginny, he was certain, was dreading the reunion with Mrs. Weasley. Snape's gaze was fixed behind them, on Azkaban, and Harry couldn't help wondering at Snape's hesitation to seal up the Gate. Was Snape battling the same temptation Harry himself had battled, the temptation that even now fluttered at the edges of his mind, no matter how determined he was to ignore it?

The temptation to fix things, as James and Sirius and even Dumbledore had also longed to do. In Harry's case, now, to correct the mistakes they had just made in his parents' world.

No - not his parents. They were some other child's parents, now. A child who would grow up with a mother and father who couldn't reconcile. Harry's dream of seeing a world in which his family could have a happy, whole life seemed more impossible than ever now - impossible not just because of Voldemort, but because his parents really weren't a perfect match, despite what everyone had always told him.

He and Ginny had joked about the idea of Rita Skeeter writing that Snape and Lily might have had an affair, but if they had left the younger Severus in his own world, would he and Lily have ended up together someday?

And would Hermione have ended up with their Snape, despite all his protestations of remembering her as a child? There was obviously some kind of potential there - potential the young Severus had started to fulfill, but that Harry and Ginny had been able to see in the older Snape, too. Harry would have been willing to bet quite a bit of gold that Hermione had seen it, as well. Certainly, after she started liking Severus, she would have seen it in his older self.

It was weird to think of the different ways their lives might have become linked together, the different possibilities that had been cut short. What if Harry's mum had lived, divorced James, and ended up with Snape? What if Snape had ended up as his stepfather? Harry couldn't really imagine Snape as a dad, but he probably would have been a hell of a lot better than Uncle Vernon… if he had ever been able to stop resenting Harry for being James's son. Which, given the current Snape's increasing lack of hostility toward him, seemed possible, even if it had taken nearly twenty years.

Harry had become used to thinking of himself as having a set destiny. After all, a prophecy had determined not only his fate but the fates of his parents, the Marauders, Snape - of the whole Wizarding World, really. There had always been one path to follow, and Harry had taken it. Now he felt like there might have been a million other paths, a million different ways all their lives could have intersected. What if, instead of going back to the year the marriage law was instituted, Harry had instead ended up back at Hogwarts when his parents were children? What if he had stopped the Marauders from bullying Snape, or stopped Snape from ruining things with Lily? What if -

"Potter," Snape said, exasperated.

Harry jumped. His gaze had remained absently fixed on Snape as his mind wandered, and Snape had clearly noticed. How much had he seen?

"Enough to know you could drive yourself mad with such thoughts," Snape replied.

Ginny's head snapped around. "You were thinking about it again, weren't you?"

"I wasn't going to do anything," Harry said defensively. Snape and Ginny both raised skeptical brows, and Hermione and Severus frowned at him.

"Honestly!" Harry said. "I was just… thinking about all the different way things could've turned out."

Ginny looked pained, but Hermione surprised him by saying, "So was I."

"You were?" Severus asked, a little jealously.

"I was thinking about how we could have prevented everything that happened. Godric's Hollow, Azkaban…"

"We can't go back," Ginny said sharply.

"I know," Hermione said. "I don't want to, believe me. It's just hard not to think about it."

"I was wondering what would have happened if we had gone back further," Harry admitted. He looked at Snape, even though Snape had probably already seen some of what he was imagining. "To when you were all kids."

"I will not pretend," Snape said, with a self-deprecating sneer, "that I have not entertained the same thought -"

"You have?" Severus asked.

"Certainly. If there is one thing meeting you, my younger self, has taught me, it is how much potential I wasted. You have become, in the span of a few months, what I have not managed in thirty-nine years of life, and you will escape decades of suffering as a reward. How much more suffering could we have escaped if such potential had been unlocked at the age of sixteen? Eleven? Eight? Two? The possibilities are endless. The temptation to find those younger selves and save them is, as I said, quite maddening."

The self-mocking curve of Snape's lips as he met Harry's eyes made Harry feel a sudden sense of kinship with him, knowing that Snape was caught up in the same daydreams that were so alluring to him. Snape wasn't censuring him - he was commiserating.

Suddenly, Ginny laughed, a bright vivid laugh that made Harry smile even without knowing what was funny.

"I'm sorry," she giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. "I'm just picturing - Uncle Sev - with all of those kid versions of him - a whole family of them -"

Hermione and Harry both grinned at the picture. Severus and Snape both looked like they weren't sure whether or not to be offended, but Harry loved the idea.

"Hermione would spoil them all rotten," Ginny added, giggling again.

"So would I," Harry said, and meant it. Familiar guilt stole through him. "Although I guess I should probably start with Teddy."

Snape had looked surprised, but not displeased, at Harry's proclamation. Perhaps that was why he said, "There is no need for such self-flagellation, Potter. The child is too young to remember this brief lapse in godfatherly judgment for long."

"Just so long as it doesn't happen again," Ginny warned.

"It won't," Harry said. He looked back at Snape. "Are you planning to bring back more of you?"

Snape didn't answer immediately, and Ginny said, "You are, aren't you?" before bursting into laughter again.

"It's not funny!" Hermione cried. "It would be so dangerous!"

"It would be satisfying," Severus said, before quickly adding, at Hermione's distraught look, "not that I would be going."

"No," Snape said. "If - and I do mean if, Miss Weasley - I ever decided to embark upon such a course of action, I would do so alone."

"But you're not decided?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I am not. As you said, it would be dangerous - foolish, I might even say - and there is no telling what consequences could result, for good or ill. It would be a gross violation of the accepted boundaries of reality."

"But you're considering it?"

"There is a temptation," Snape admitted without reservation.

Hermione looked troubled, Ginny intrigued. Harry would never have expected something like this from Snape, but then, he had not expected Snape to let them bring Severus back, either. And if, say, a year or two from now, when Snape was more confident that bringing his younger self to his own world had yielded no ill consequences, Snape decided to sneak off to another reality and bring back another child… Who was Harry, really, to stop him? He himself would have loved it if some older, alternate version of himself had shown up and saved him from his cupboard, even if it meant leaving his whole reality behind.

"I know you might want to… save yourself," Hermione said tentatively. "But… what about saving yourself? I mean, you? If some other version of you could come here and save you - what would he want to give you?"

Snape regarded her silently for a moment, then said, "An interesting question. I shall consider it."

Hermione relaxed slightly, perhaps at the praise, perhaps in the hope that she might be able to talk Snape out of his admittedly quite mad plan before he decided to implement it.

Ginny tried and failed to contain another muffled giggle. Hermione frowned at her, but she only said, "Just imagine… Rita…"

They all laughed then, even Snape, and Harry felt warm, happy relief wrap around him again.

Hermione, however, seemed unable to quite let go of her worry. "So… how are we going to handle all of this, really? I mean… the Order knows we went through the Gate, don't they? I can't imagine any of them will believe Severus is your son."

Snape's expression instantly assumed the calculating look that Harry had found so unnerving in school. "It would likely be prudent to… delay… such introductions."

"You want to hide me?" Severus asked, sounding more relieved than offended.

"For a time. A few months, perhaps longer… It will be impossible to avoid such suspicions altogether no matter how long we wait, from those who know of our travels, but we will at least be able to plausibly deny those suspicions."

"Especially if you pretend to be shocked," Ginny said, looking at Snape. "If Severus shows up claiming to be your son, and you try to deny it, people will be probably be too caught up in the scandal to suspect the truth."

"The suggestion has merit," Snape said, although his mouth twisted slightly, no doubt at the thought of the scandalous scenes he would be forced to take part in. "We will, of course, need somewhere to hide him until such time as he is ready to confront his long-lost father… Perhaps Miss Granger's tent?"

"That sounds adequate," Severus said, with a blush none of them could mistake for the chafing of the wind.

Snape's mouth twisted a little further. "I trust you will use this time wisely - to educate yourself about this world's recent history, and to devise a very convincing history for yourself."

Severus flashed him a crooked grin. "As you wish… Dad."

Snape shuddered.

"Best get used to it," Ginny said, smirking.

"On the contrary," Snape said. "The more repelled I am by the idea, the more convincing our ruse shall be. Of course, it will also be necessary for you to be repelled…"

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully. "We'll become friends with him just to spite you."

Ginny nodded. "We'll publicly tell you off for abandoning him."

"We'll try to convince you to take responsibility," Harry said. "I'll make a speech about you having a chance to be a father…"

"And of course," Ginny added, "Hermione will have to fall for him all over again, publicly, to your horror."

Hermione blushed, but raised her chin haughtily. "I could give you a very compelling lecture on his merits."

Severus and Snape both blushed. "I suppose it is too much to hope," Snape said, with a grimace, "that you will keep the public humiliation to a minimum?"

The Gryffindors eyed him incredulously.

"Of course not," Snape muttered. "I have, after all, earned your revenge."

"Just think of it this way," Harry said. "You humiliated us all those years while secretly helping us… Now we can return the favor."

"And at least you know we're really your allies," Ginny said.

"Look on the bright side," Harry said. "You'll get to insult us, too."

Snape's mouth suddenly curved into the same crooked grin his younger self had borne a few minutes before. "True… I trust you will not take it personally if I appear to show little restraint? For the sake of realism, of course…"

The Gryffindors grinned back at him, with Severus glancing warily from side to side. "... Of course."

Lily watched anxiously as Madam Pomfrey slowly waved her wand over the prone form of the Severus bat. The matron's brow was creased, her lips pursed, her movements, though slow, still suggesting impatience. It was, after all, the fourth time she had performed this particular wand movement, with no result.

"I can't understand it," she muttered. "The magical signature is clearly human, and yet…"

"And yet?" Dumbledore prompted, as Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand over the bat a fifth time.

"None of the spells to reverse human transfiguration are working," she said, frustrated. "I think it might be best if we consult with Professor McGonagall."

Lily glanced at Dumbledore's face, noting his surprise and the first stirrings of suspicion. Savage and Moody bore similar expressions, but she thought Moody, at least, might be suppressing a smile. James and Sirius, seated in beds across from the bat's, hadn't been paying the slightest attention to the attempts to heal Severus, but at Madam Pomfrey's words, they stood up and joined the group around the bat's bed.

"That doesn't make sense," Sirius said. "I just used the standard transfiguration spell, Homo Facti Vespertilio. That's easy to reverse."

"Thank you, Mr. Black," Madam Pomfrey said, a little sharply. "I am in fact familiar with the spell. Perhaps in future you might refrain from using human transfiguration on wandless victims, and we might avoid these difficulties altogether."

Black only looked slightly abashed, his expression now dark with suspicion. Dumbledore, bearing an only slightly less forbidding look, waved his wand at the bat several times in quick succession. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and the bat transfigured into - but what was it?

"What did you do?" Lily asked, horrified.

"I restored it to its previous form," Dumbledore said, surveying the black, horn-like object with interest and displeasure. The others all stared at it distrustfully, as if waiting for it to reveal its true nature. Dumbledore, however, cast another Homenum Revelio spell.

"Curious," he murmured. "The signature still appears human." He waved his wand again. "A clever enchantment. Very clever."

"It's a trick?" James asked, outraged.

Lily stared at the black object, her heart sinking. Unexpectedly, she felt a well of tears fill her eyes. She couldn't have said why she was so sad, only - only maybe she had thought she and Severus would have a second chance at being friends. He hadn't even said goodbye.

"Well, then, we have to go after him, don't we?" Sirius said, unable to contain his eagerness.

"You're not going anywhere," Moody growled. "You're both lucky not to be facing a trial in front of the Wizengamot for the stunt you tried to pull -"

"What about the stunt he DID pull?" Sirius exploded. "He's -"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Sirius fell silent, with a glance at Madam Pomfrey, who glanced sharply between the two of them, but said nothing.

"Poppy, I am sorry to have disturbed you," Dumbledore said. "It would seem we have no patient for you after all. However, if I may ask another favor, I believe Mr. Potter and Mr. Black are both in need of rest. They have experienced a harrowing ordeal, followed by a grave disappointment, and I believe they could both benefit from some Dreamless Sleep…"

James and Sirius stared at him in openmouthed indignation, while Madam Pomfrey said, "Of course, Headmaster," and retreated to her office.

James regained his power of speech first. "You're drugging us?"

Dumbledore fixed him with a hard stare that contained none of his usual twinkle. "As Alastor said, your actions tonight constitute a very serious crime. Not only your desire to alter time - which, under the circumstances, was perfectly understandable - but your deliberate and openly admitted intention of deceiving Lily into remaining in a marriage you knew she did not want. And, if I am not mistaken, you, Sirius, were aware that Lily is pregnant, and yet you were nonetheless willing to risk the safety - the very life - of the child, against her knowledge and will. You have both engaged in behavior that, frankly, shocks me."

Dumbledore paused, allowing the shame to rise in the two faces before him, neither of which so much as glanced at Lily, for which she was glad. She was shocked, too; shocked, and yet ashamed of herself, perhaps even more than James or Sirius had managed to be - ashamed of her stupidity, her naivete, her willful blindness. More than anything, she was ashamed that there was still a part of her that was trying to convince herself that they hadn't truly understood what they were doing, that they had been out of their minds with grief, that this was her James, her Sirius, and that they would never hurt her.

What was wrong with her, to still be making excuses for them?

At last, when the silence was almost painful, Dumbledore continued, "You now have two choices before you. You can accept the Dreamless Sleep potion Madam Pomfrey will provide, which will allow you to rest and hopefully regain some of your senses before I, and any other relevant Order members, determine how to address your actions. Or I can inform the Department of Mysteries of the danger you pose, and the Unspeakables can decide your fate."

James and Sirius glanced at each other, clearly alarmed and weighing their options. Lily could imagine what they were thinking. On the one hand, Dumbledore was clearly furious and would likely impose a penalty they wouldn't like. On the other, no one knew what the Unspeakables did to people who violated the laws they were sworn to study and uphold. Wizards who had been handed over to them - a rare occurrence, reserved for the most serious and dangerous of offenses - were usually never seen again. There were rumors of a secret prison within the Departmet of Mysteries (along with rumors of secret torture chambers where the Unspeakables conducted experiments on their live human captives), but no one really knew if there was any merit to those stories.

Still, James and Sirius didn't seem willing to chance it. "We'll take the potion," James said begrudgingly.

"I am glad to hear it," Dumbledore said, with no trace of gladness in his voice.

Lily watched carefully as James and Sirius downed the sleeping draught, wary that they might somehow vanish the potion before swallowing. She could see Moody, Dumbledore, and Savage watching with the same suspicion, and as soon as James and Sirius collapsed in their respective beds, Dumbledore waved his wand over them.

"Asleep," he confirmed. "Poppy, if you would set wards to alert you when they awaken? I expect to return long before then, but there is a possibility that I may be delayed." He smiled suddenly. "After all, the death of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may result in unexpected demands on my time."

"The death?" Madam Pomfrey gasped. "You don't mean -"

"I most certainly do. The war is over." Now that James and Sirius were unconscious, Dumbledore's twinkle had returned.

Madam Pomfrey sat down at the edge of a bed, clutching her heart, quite overcome.

"I assure you I will return and discuss the happy news with you," Dumbledore said, "but at present I am afraid there are a number of matters which require my attention."

"Of - of course, Headmaster. Dead!"

"Yes, it truly is wonderful." Dumbledore turned to Moody, Savage, and Lily. "If you three would be willing to join me in my office? I assure you I shall not keep you long, for I know you must all be tired."

There were murmurs of "of course," and Lily tailed behind the older adults as Dumbledore led them through the familiar corridors up to the headmaster's office. She was relieved when he Conjured them three extremely comfortable chairs; she was more tired than she could ever remember being, her heart aching with loss: James, Sirius, Severus… Ginny and Harry… all of the people who had died at her wedding and in Azkaban. Even Voldemort's death was not enough to revive her more hopeful feelings.

"Lily," Dumbledore said, and she met his gaze to find so much sympathy in his eyes that her own filled with tears again. "You have suffered two terrible betrayals tonight - three in recent weeks, given Peter's treachery - and it is only natural that you should question yourself and doubt the trust you were willing to place in those who have proven unworthy of it."

Lily flushed. How did he know?

"Please listen to me. I, too, placed my trust in James and Sirius. Even after I became aware of the extent of their treatment of Severus Snape - as you did - I still believed that their better natures would prevail. Even now, I still hope that, in time, they might." He paused, with a sigh, as if the hope itself was a burden. Lily knew it was.

"It is important, when faced with such betrayals, that we learn from our willingness - our sometimes perhaps excessive willingness - to trust, without forsaking that willingness altogether. The ability to trust others is a precious gift, one which all too often cannot be retrieved once lost. The ability to trust oneself is even more precious. I hope that in the weeks and months to come you will be patient with yourself as you recover from these betrayals. More than anything, I hope you remember that however ill-fated - and, perhaps, ill-advised - our trust in James and Sirius has proven to be, it was ultimately James and Sirius who made the choices which have broken that trust. Do not blame yourself for not anticipating their willingness to harm you."

Lily blinked away tears, nodding and trying to hold on to Dumbledore's gaze. It was comforting to remember that he had made the same mistakes she had. It was also a relief that he wasn't pretending she hadn't made mistakes. She had, and they both knew it.

"I asked you to join me here because we must, unfortunately, discuss how to respond to the choices James and Sirius have made - and, more importantly, how to prevent them from making any future attempts of that nature. If my understanding of the Gates of Azkaban is correct, there are three - the Gate of Death, the Gate of Worlds, and the Gate of Time. The Gate of Worlds was used by the visitors who were so generous as to end our war with Lord Voldemort nearly twenty years sooner than it ended in their world. This Gate can be used to alter the course of another world's future, but not the course of one's own. The Gate of Time, however, might permit the type of interference James and Sirius intended, and it is of the utmost importance that they remain unaware of its existence. There is no telling what kind of damage might be inflicted if they successfully journeyed back to our past."

"Could use a Memory Charm," Moody said. "Make them forget all about it."

"That is certainly a possibility I have considered," Dumbledore said. "My primary concern with that plan is that it is not unlikely that either James or Sirius would eventually realize that their memories had been altered, and might seek to uncover the memories they were deprived of."

Moody grunted his acknowledgement of this concern.

"Auror Savage, what are your thoughts?"

Savage, who had said nothing until now, nonetheless answered promptly. "I'm concerned not only that they might try to find a way to travel back in time, but that, without that option, their focus might shift to finding a way to coerce Lily back into a relationship with James in some other way."

Lily tensed, glancing from Savage to Dumbledore. "Do you think they would?"

"They might," Dumbledore said slowly. "I would like to believe that our reactions, and in particular the reaction of the son James might have had, may have impressed upon them how wrong their attempt was; however, I am not certain that this is the case. Nor am I certain how else to impart this realization if our efforts thus far have failed."

They lapsed into silence for several moments, which Lily finally broke, saying quietly, "I'm afraid James might try to take away the baby."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "the thought crossed my mind as well."

There was another silence, then Lily asked, "What would the Unspeakables do to them?"

Dumbledore looked surprised, then thoughtful. "The full extent of the secrets contained within the Department of Mysteries is known only to the Unspeakables. I have been permitted entry to the Department on a number of occasions, and have likely deduced more of its secrets than most outsiders; however, on this point, I cannot answer you. I suspect that the Unspeakables do, indeed, involve violators in their experiments, but whether those experiments constitute the torture described in rumors or whether the experiments are more humane, I do not know."

"It's an interesting idea. Were you planning to tell the Unspeakables about the Gates?" Moody asked.

"I believe it would be the safest solution. If the Gates remain in Azkaban, they are bound to be discovered by others eventually, particularly given how much suspicion our visitors aroused. The Department of Mysteries, although contained within the Ministry of Magic, nonetheless abides by its own set of rules. Even the Minister is not privy to all that is studied there. I do not believe anyone but the Unspeakables would have access to these Gates, and they can be trusted not to abuse that access."

"And Snape?" Savage asked.

Dumbledore hesitated, then said, "If Mr. Snape ever chooses to return to our world, he shall have to explain his actions to the Unspeakables. They will determine his fate."

Lily might have been imagining it, but she thought Savage relaxed slightly, as if relieved to hear Dumbledore would not be pursuing Severus. Lily couldn't feel any relief, still too sorry to know Severus was gone forever. But then, he would be with Harry, wouldn't he? Maybe there was some comfort in knowing that a piece of her world would be able to stay with her almost-son, even if she couldn't.

"What do you plan to tell the Ministry?" Savage asked. "About Voldemort's defeat?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "I think it would be wisest to omit any details about our otherworldly visitors. No doubt there will be rumors, after the Gates are transferred to the Department of Mysteries, that Voldemort was plotting to use them in some way, and that his plot was thwarted. Provided such rumors do not begin until after the Gates are secure and inaccessible, I see no reason why they should be discouraged. It will undoubtedly be a comfort to the Wizarding public to believe that the weapons Lord Voldemort intended to use to subjugate them have been confiscated."

Moody snorted. "There'll also be rumors the Unspeakables are holding Voldemort captive, alive."

"No doubt," Dumbledore agreed. "And likely wilder rumors than that. However, I think the Ministry will accept that Voldemort is dead, given the presence of multiple witnesses, including two Aurors and myself."

"And what exactly did we witness?" Moody asked.

"Severus Snape sacrificing his life to kill Voldemort," Savage offered, although her tone was so firm it hardly sounded like a suggestion.

Dumbledore considered that for a moment, then said, "A reasonable - and not altogether untruthful - explanation."

Lily nodded, smiling slightly at the idea of Severus's reaction if he knew he was about to be made the Wizarding World's hero, posthumously. Then again, his older self had defeated Voldemort, saving them all. It was only appropriate that one of them, at least, receive the credit.

"And James and Sirius?" Moody said. "The Unspeakable idea has a lot of merit, in my book."

Savage hesitated, then said, "In mine as well."

Dumbledore looked at Lily, who felt a nervous lurching in her stomach. Was it evil, to send the father of her baby to some unknown (potentially horrible) fate? James and Sirius had been grieving, torn apart by losing Peter, Remus, and so many others. And yet… what if they tried to make her love James again? What if they tried to take her baby? They might never give up. The idea of living her life in constant fear of what they might do - of spells they might cast, potions they might slip her, of time travel, even - left her shuddering. Would she ever feel safe?

Was this too extreme?

Would the baby hate her for it one day?

What would Harry think?

But Harry hadn't allowed James and Sirius to come back with him - in part because of what they had done to Lily. Harry had refused to let them stay in his life.

Lily couldn't help but feel that this was the only way she would truly have the power to ensure they couldn't stay in hers.

She remembered the cold, hard certainty she had felt when she Apparated to Azkaban, knowing that James was trying to trap her, that Sirius was willing to sacrifice her baby if it meant getting Remus back. Neither one of them had respected her safety or wishes. Why should she respect theirs?

"I'm in favor," she said finally, her heart still twisting, but her resolve settling into place.

"As am I," Dumbledore said, and Lily felt relief remove the last tremors of her uncertainty.

It was settled, then. James and Sirius would face whatever fate the Unspeakables believed they deserved.

The village of Hogsmeade was gray and slushy in the pale light of waning winter. The dripping of melting snow, the squelching of boots in muddy ice, and the sting of half-freezing rain left the band of travelers huddling close together with their heads down as they made their way toward the Longbottoms' cottage.

Severus had chosen the Longbottoms' home for the site of their return for a very specific reason - namely, that he hoped Molly Weasley would restrain herself at least a little in what she regarded as the Longbottoms' still-fragile presence. Of course, neither Frank nor Alice were as fragile as she assumed, but given that Molly had taken to speaking in a hushed voice whenever they encountered each other (Frank had complained to Severus of this on multiple occasions), Severus hoped that he and his companions might be spared at least some of her most deafening tones.

Not that he blamed the woman for worrying - her youngest child, her only daughter, had vanished into an alternate reality with the boy who had led her youngest son into danger more times than Severus could count. Still… for his own sake, and for the sake of the weary teenagers trailing after him, he felt a quieter homecoming would be preferable.

It was as a result of that quiet anticipation that Severus stopped dead outside the Longbottoms' gate, his gaze fixed on the gathering of people he could see through their sitting room window.

"Oh, damn," Ginny muttered behind him.

"Oh, damn" was an accurate summation of the situation. The entire Weasley clan, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Andromeda Tonks, and even Luna Lovegood were crowded around the Longbottoms, vehemently arguing about something. Even as Severus hesitated, he saw all heads turn to the Lovegood girl, whose expression was serene as always as she made some comment. Abruptly, every pair of eyes shifted to the window.

No - to them.

Severus heard some extra squelching behind him that sounded suspiciously like one of the teenagers trying to hide behind him. A moment later, Molly Weasley's dreaded shriek split the air.

"GINNY!"

Severus glanced back at the three teenagers - a Potter, a Weasley, and a Granger, his younger self already safely settled in a tent two hundred miles away - and, bracing himself, turned to face the flood of people rushing out of the house.

The Weasleys, minus Ronald, rushed to surround Ginny. Ronald, it seemed, was transfixed by the sight of Hermione and Harry standing on either side of Severus, and had frozen in either rage or horror - it was difficult to determine which.

But Severus had no time to consider the Gryffindor drama unfolding before him, for in the wake of the Weasleys two unexpected faces emerged from the Longbottom house - Mrs. Granger and a man who must be Mr. Granger.

"Mum!" Hermione cried, brushing past Ron and into her mother's arms.

Severus couldn't help glancing at Harry, who alone of the trio had no parents to greet him. For the first time, it occurred to Severus how often such scenes must play out in his presence - at King's Cross, when the Hogwarts train returned each summer; whenever he spent time with the Weasleys; at holidays and birthdays, and at any other significant event. How much more must these circumstances weigh on him now, after just losing his parents all over again?

As if sensing his gaze, Harry looked up at him, grimaced a little, and shrugged. Severus shadowed his expression, a mere tensing of his mouth, but that expression alone seemed to jolt the youngest Weasley boy out of his paralysis.

"You brought Snape with you?" he asked loudly.

Everyone, even a heavily crying Molly Weasley, turned to look at them: at Ron, standing with his fists clenched, and at Harry, standing beside Severus, and making no effort to move away or deny his friend's accusation.

"You brought Snape," Ron said again, "but not me?"

"He did not bring me," Severus interjected sharply, but Harry turned to him and said, "It's okay."

Severus met his gaze, and saw the same expression Harry had worn before telling his father and godfather that they could not accompany him back to his world; the expression that Severus understood to mean Harry wanted to handle this himself. Nodding, Severus took a step back.

Harry looked slightly nervous with all eyes on him, and glanced warily at the deserted lane. A few houses down, the curtains in an upstairs window were twitching in a suspicious manner.

"Maybe we should go inside," Arthur Weasley said, clearly interpreting Harry's wariness correctly.

There were murmurs of assent, and the crowd filed back into the Longbottoms' home. Severus passed Frank, who gripped his shoulder with a friendly squeeze, and Neville, who offered him a small smile that still felt strange to see on the boy's face. Fiend climbed out of Severus's pocket to sniff around hopefully for any sign of Neville's toad. Minerva looked like she wasn't sure whether to scold Severus or hug him, and settled for patting his arm. Filius shook his hand heartily, and Severus was reminded in a sharp flash of sorrow that the other world's Flitwick had died because of them.

Once the assembled Order and family members had seated themselves around the room, Ginny surrounded by the Weasleys, Hermione by the Grangers, and Severus retreating to a corner, Harry stepped into position in front of them all as though facing the Wizengamot.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking especially at Ron and Molly Weasley, and at Andromeda, who was holding Lupin's blue-haired spawn. "I know I messed up - first with going through the Gate, then with going back without clearing it with anyone. I put Hermione and Ginny at risk -"

"I put myself at risk!" Ginny said sharply.

"- and Snape, too." Harry glanced at Severus, then back at Ron. "And no, I didn't bring him with me. He caught us when we were trying to sneak through the Gate, and figured it would be safer to keep an eye on us than take the chance that we might come back through on our own. Which was lucky," Harry added, as Ron's expression started to clear, "because we wouldn't have made it without him. I doubt we would've ever even found Hermione."

Ron looked both skeptical and resentful at this, but Severus noticed that, although several other pairs of eyes darted in his direction, none of them seemed to doubt Harry's statement.

"All right," Ron said, "but why couldn't you bring me?"

"Because Mum had you under house arrest," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"I should have done the same to you!" Molly snapped. "I thought you had more sense -"

Severus snorted. At Molly's affronted expression, he said, "Surely it has not escaped your notice that your daughter is just as capable of wanton mischief and reckless, ill-advised bravery as any of your sons? She defied me repeatedly during my unfortunate tenure as headmaster, despite believing me to be the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eater. As I understand it, it was she who was responsible for naming Potter's defense club 'Dumbledore's Army,' in deliberate defiance of the Ministry and of the Minister of Magic himself. During her most recent escapade, she faced the Dark Lord -"

Molly uttered a small scream, and there were exclamations of shock and fear from nearly everyone in the room. Ginny scowled at him. "Thanks a lot, Uncle Sev."

"What do you mean, she faced the Dark Lord?" Arthur Weasley asked. "He didn't hurt you, Ginny?"

"No," Ginny said, tossing her hair back with a lofty expression. "As it happens, I can still speak Parseltongue, so I convinced him I was another Heir of Slytherin and that he and I were somehow related."

A shocked silence followed this announcement. Then Severus started to laugh, a wild, delighted laugh which only seemed to increase everyone else's shock. Whatever bitterness Ginny might have felt toward him a moment before seemed to vanish into satisfaction as she watched him wipe a tear from his eye. Harry, recovering from his surprise, grinned at them both.

The others were evidently less impressed.

"You're a Parselmouth?" Bill Weasley asked, frowning at his little sister.

Ginny shrugged, then, with a malicious little smile, said, "Uncle Sev helped me tap into it."

All eyes were on Severus again, this time with deepest suspicion, as though they thought he must have performed some dark magic to corrupt their dear, innocent Weasley girl. Severus scowled at her, but couldn't help admiring the cunning of her little revenge - and, indeed, her cunning in outwitting the Dark Lord.

"You helped her?" Bill asked, at the same moment his father said, "Helped her how?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I merely encouraged her to try. Not that she required much encouragement. She has quite a talent for it. More than Potter, I would say."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at Severus as the suspicious, horrified glances returned to her. He arched an eyebrow at her. She tossed her hair again and said, "It's actually quite useful."

"Useful?" Molly Weasley echoed, looking appalled.

"'Course it's useful," George Weasley said, eyeing Ginny with fascination. "Didn't you hear her? She tricked Voldemort."

There were a couple of lingering flinches at the name, but George's words seemed to have struck a chord.

"That is actually quite impressive," Andromeda said, studying Ginny. "Can you still speak Parseltongue, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I mean, I hadn't tried since the war… But I can understand it when Ginny says things." He reddened slightly, perhaps remembering the kinds of things Ginny had said (which Severus remained blissfully ignorant of). Hastily, Harry added, "Snape's right, though. She is better at it than I am. I could only ever do it when I was actually talking to a snake. She can just… do it."

"Why would Ginny be better at it?" Ron asked nervously.

"No doubt," Severus said, "because she was quicker to recognize the advantage of such an ability, and to strive to master it."

"That sounded like a compliment," Bill said, frowning at him.

Severus shrugged. "She has proven herself worthy of it, I daresay."

His words were met with incredulous surprise, but Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were all beaming at him. He tried not to feel self-conscious - or, irrationally, pleased.

Ron Weasley was less pleased. He glanced from his friends' smiling faces to Severus's almost-smiling one, and scowled. "So what happened, anyway? Did you find your parents?"

Molly Weasley made a small hissing noise, no doubt at the insensitivity of the boy's tone, but Harry seemed to shrug it off. "Yeah, we found them… Things didn't really go so well, though."

"They didn't -" Ron began, then broke off with a horrified look, unwilling to finish the question.

"They didn't die," Harry said, his voice growing a little stronger. "We managed to save them. They just sort of… er… split up."

"They split up?" Alice asked. "James and Lily?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "We saw you, too - your younger self, I mean. You and Frank were a great help with circumventing the marriage law."

Alice and Frank looked at each other, then back at Harry. "Bizarre," Frank murmured.

"Amazing," Alice said, her expression hungry. "What were we like?"

"Perhaps," Minerva said, glancing to Severus, "it would be better if we - if we didn't discuss it?" She looked uncertain. "Surely there must be some rules governing such matters…"

"If there are, we broke them," Harry said, with an apologetic frown. "A bunch of people had figured out who we were by the end."

"What do you mean, 'a bunch of people'?" Bill asked sharply.

"Dumbledore, Moody, Savage, James, Lily, and Sirius," Harry listed. "Oh, and the Longbottoms might have suspected."

"Dumbledore knew?" Arthur asked, sounding relieved.

"Yeah, he nearly pulled a Harry," Ginny said. "Wanted to go through the Gate."

"Moody stopped him," Hermione said.

Their listeners glanced at each other, seemingly overwhelmed by what they were hearing. Minerva said shakily, "But You-Know-Who - that is, Voldemort - I trust he did not learn of your origins?"

"Voldemort's dead," Ginny said unceremoniously. "Snape killed him."

"Snape?" All eyes fixed on him once more.

"You killed him?" Minerva asked, shocked. "But - but the ramifications of that kind of interference -"

"- are no doubt better than the alternative," Severus said, folding his arms. "We have seen no indication that their reality was fundamentally damaged by our presence. Indeed, the very existence of the Gates suggests that such interference has likely occurred before."

"So… all these weeks you've been gone… it was because you were defeating their version of You-Know-Who?" Arthur asked weakly.

"Yes."

A brief silence followed this admission. Then Molly Weasley exploded, "YOU MEAN YOU COULD HAVE BROUGHT THEM BACK SOONER?"

"And what?" Ginny said sharply. "Left them all to their fate? Their world was worse off than ours, Mum."

"THAT WASN'T YOUR RESPONSIBILITY -"

"WELL I WASN'T GOING TO LEAVE MY WHOLE FAMILY TO DIE!" Ginny shouted back. "Your brothers - Fred -"

Molly let out a sob. Arthur and Bill both shot reproachful looks at Ginny, but George looked like he agreed with her wholeheartedly.

"Voldemort's gone in their world," Ginny said harshly. "And most of their Death Eaters are dead. Of course there's a chance they'll have to fight some other war someday, but it won't be for a long time, and it won't be against any of the people who fought against us! They'll get to live their lives - our family, Harry's, Frank and Alice, Tonks, who knows how many others! Of course we stayed! What we did wasn't perfect, but we had to try!"

A long silence followed her words. Most of those present had tears in their eyes; Andromeda and Molly, who had both lost children in the war, were openly crying. Severus tried not to look at Filius; although the wizard didn't know it, his life had been sacrificed in their effort to save all these others. His life, and many more. But Severus didn't blame Ginny for neglecting to mention that; there was no harm in giving her family, and the other families present, the hope of believing that their loved ones might have been saved in another world, might even now be living happily, facing a future that was brighter and safer than the past they themselves had endured.

"I… I suppose I can understand why you did what you did," Molly said at last, sniffling. "The idea that Fred…" She couldn't continue. Severus saw that George was eyeing Ginny with a degree of interest that suggested their Gates might need to be guarded carefully in the weeks to come.

"It is a comfort to think of Nymphadora growing up without the threat of war," Andromeda said. "And I'm sure it must be a comfort to you, Harry dear, to know that your parents are still alive somewhere…"

Harry nodded gratefully, clearly relieved at the forgiveness in her tone.

"It's a comfort to think that we might not spend half our lives in St. Mungo's," Alice muttered. "The Lestranges weren't still alive when you left, were they?"

"No, they were all dead," Harry said. "The Crouches, too."

The Longbottoms looked satisfied at this, even Neville.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Minerva said, still sounding shaken, "it seems that your propensity for getting into trouble has once again yielded mostly positive results. That being said, I trust you will all remain in this world in future."

"I think Potter has learned his lesson," Severus said smoothly. The teenagers shot him knowing looks (or, in Miss Granger's case, an anxious one), but said nothing.

"Let us hope you have all learned that lesson," Mrs. Granger said, her gaze fixed not on Harry or even Hermione, but on Severus. "However cathartic this entire experience may have been for you all, it was significantly less so for the people you left behind."

"It wasn't his fault," Hermione said. "I was the one who started it. As soon as I had the chance, I started changing things. By the time they found me, I had gone too far for any of us to turn back." Her voice was strained, perhaps with suppressed tears. "I made mistakes we had to fix -"

"It wasn't your fault," Harry interrupted.

"It was Voldemort's fault. You were just trying to help." Ginny looked at Mrs. Granger. "And so was Snape. None of us would have been better off if he had forced us to leave all those people to be slaughtered. He did the right thing."

"Definitely," Harry agreed.

"He really did, Mum," Hermione said quietly. "Please don't blame him."

Mrs. Granger frowned. "I'll consider what you've said. But I want to know more about what happened - I want to understand what you did." She took in Hermione's overwhelmed, exhausted expression, and added, "Later, of course. I'm sure you all need to rest."

Hermione nodded, then admitted with tears in her eyes, "I just want to see Crookshanks."

Her mother's eyes filled with tears as well. "I think that can be arranged."

Molly burst into tears as well, grabbing Ginny again and squeezing her against her rather half-hearted protestations. Suddenly, it seemed everyone was hugging or crying, even Potter and Weasley, although Severus was certain neither one of them would have admitted to the tears that were clearly visible in their eyes. Severus made a point of standing back from the crowd, and was relieved when Fiend returned from her hunt for Trevor to leap into his arms - that, at least, gave him an excuse to refuse Molly Weasley's hug, which she attempted to foist on him only moments later. She settled for hugging Mrs. Granger instead - had they become friends in his absence? - then George, who was still watching Ginny avidly.

Severus was just considering making his escape when Neville Longbottom approached him. The boy hesitated for a moment, then said, "I'm glad you're back. We were all really worried."

"And yet you have not been moved to tears of joy at my return, I see."

Neville grinned. "I only cry around you when I'm terrified, sir."

"An emotion I no longer seem capable of evoking in you."

"Have you really tried?"

Severus paused. "No," he said finally, breaking eye contact with the boy and looking down at Fiend instead. "I suppose the thrill is gone."

He felt, rather than saw, Neville smile at him. Uncomfortable but secretly pleased, as he kept finding himself pleased with all of these ridiculous Gryffindors' forgiveness, he tried to think of something sarcastic (but not too sarcastic) to say to divert the boy's attention. Luckily, Ginny saved him the trouble.

"Mum and Frank are planning to cook for us all. You'll stay for supper, won't you, Uncle Sev?"

"Uncle Sev?" echoed Neville, looking like he wasn't sure whether to be appalled, entertained, or jealous.

"I think not, Ginevra," Severus said, ignoring Neville for the moment.

"Oh, come on," she said. "Everybody wants you here, it's not like before when nobody liked you."

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. Neville looked alarmed.

"I bet Fiend wants to stay, don't you, Fiend? We have treats for you."

At the word "treats," the treacherous Kneazle squirmed in Severus's arms and dropped to the floor, looking up at Ginny hopefully. Ginny flashed a triumphant look at Severus.

"You become more Slytherin by the day, Miss Weasley."

Her grin widened. "You've become quite a bit more… Hufflepuff." She laughed at his expression, spun on her heels, and wove away through the crowd before he could respond, his damned Kneazle at her heels. He huffed in annoyance, then grimaced when he realized Neville was still watching him.

"You really aren't trying to frighten us anymore, are you?" the boy asked.

Severus considered him for a moment, then let his gaze sweep the room, passing over all the people who used to fear and despise him. Maybe some of them still did - Ronald Weasley, for one - but most of them seemed to have more or less accepted his presence among them. And some of them did, in fact, want him there. Ginny, Harry, Hermione. Neville and his parents. Minerva and Filius. Probably the Lovegood girl. He might have assumed it was all some elaborate trick, if the past few weeks had not proven to him beyond any doubt that the people he had treated the most horribly had also proven the most capable of forgiving him, of respecting him as more than just Dumbledore's spy - as his own man, whatever that meant now. He believed, because they had proven he could believe, that he was wanted.

"No," he said, looking back at Neville with the shadow of a smile. "I have no desire to frighten any of you anymore."

Dumbledore woke from his dream in a burst of panic that was unusual for him, and yet that had become familiar over the past few months. Blurred, anxious visions of the Gates of Azkaban haunted him, the prospect of changing worlds, of changing time, an ever-tempting specter that was in no way diminished by the accompanying memories of the Gate of Death.

It does not do to dwell on dreams, he reminded himself, an oft-repeated mantra from his youth, when the longing for Gellert, and the regret for what that longing had cost him, had been a constant weight. Still, his latest dream swelled and crashed within him in waves of unease, a turbulent sea that would not subside. He had dreamed of the Gate of Time, of moments from his own past that he had long desired to alter, of a happier present, a present in which he had not lost his father, his mother, his sister. His lover.

Exhaling sharply, Dumbledore climbed from bed and went to stand by the window of the Headmaster's tower, overlooking the shadows and edges of Hogwarts school, lit by the faintest trace of dawn and silhouetted against the growing glitter of the lake beyond. This had been his home for many years now. Perhaps it would remain his home until the day he died. The thought, which was usually a comfort, filled him with a sense of despair now, a reminder of the ambition, the hope of fulfillment, that he had long ago cast aside.

It had been a long time since such thoughts had overwhelmed him. The revelation that the Gates of Azkaban existed, that the boundaries of reality were in fact flexible - or perhaps broken - had opened a gate within his own heart that he could not seem to shut. He thought more pityingly of James and Sirius now. Although he had exhibited more self-restraint than those two boys, he wondered - no, he was almost certain that he would not have shown any more self-control than they had, when he had been their age.

Perhaps that was why he had been so willing to send them away. Perhaps the reminder that they were, in fact, very little different from him had biased him against them, because he knew all too well the knife's edge he had balanced on all these years. Perhaps he had seen in them the other side of that blade, the side he still yearned for.

He had attempted, in the first weeks after turning James and Sirius over to the Unspeakables, to determine what had happened to them. Indeed, he had hoped that in surrendering them he might finally gain a clear answer on the subject. The Unspeakables, however, had kept their secrets carefully, and Dumbledore now had no idea if the boys were dead or alive, in pain or in joy, or swallowed up by some mysterious form of magic even he did not comprehend.

Lily had asked about them, of course. Dumbledore had anticipated that she might come to regret her decision, and although she had never expressed remorse, he could sense the seed of it in her eyes on occasion. But she was healing; the trauma of all that had happened to her, the torture, the loss, the trust broken by her husband and friends, even perhaps the grief of losing Severus Snape before truly reconciling with him, had damaged her in many visible and invisible ways, but the hope of building a new life with her soon-to-be-born child had also visibly transformed her. He had heard her speak very happily of little Harriet Ginevra's impending arrival, and the question of whether her still-nebulous Patronus would take the form of a unicorn or winged horse was one she had joyfully canvassed with virtually everyone she had come into contact with. Even with the weight of her former husband's disappearance weighing on her, it was plain that she would not be depressed by it.

As for Severus Snape's disappearance - that, Dumbledore suspected, would have much more far-reaching consequences. To his knowledge, the boy had not returned, which came as no surprise to him, although he would likely have found himself welcomed back with open arms if he ever had. Dumbledore had followed Savage's suggestion (if suggestion it had been) to credit Voldmort's defeat to Snape, and Wizarding Britain had responded by heroicizing him to a degree even Dumbledore himself had never experienced. The story of the poor, tragically misunderstood half-blood boy, tempted by darkness but ultimately fighting for light, had seized the national consciousness, and there were already several books pending publication that claimed to reveal the boy's most intimate struggles. No one had been able to find any photographs of Severus Snape, so illustrators had been quite imaginative in their depictions of him. Dumbledore wondered how startled Snape would have been to find himself portrayed as a stunningly handsome wizard with magnificent hair and understated nose, not to mention an impressively colorful wardrobe.

There was one person who seemed to hold the memory of Snape particularly close, and it was not Lily Evans. Only last week, Dumbledore had discovered, much to his surprise, that Gwen Savage had applied to become an Unspeakable, and had been accepted. Dumbledore had not spoken to her since the war ended, but he could not help suspecting that the memory of a certain otherworldly wizard had haunted her just as much as the awareness of the Gates had haunted Dumbledore. Then again, perhaps Savage just wanted to know what had happened to James and Sirius. Dumbledore had the nagging suspicion that Savage would not share that particular secret with him if he asked - or any secret, perhaps. Soon she might know answers he had only dreamed of learning. The temptation of submitting an application of his own was still lingering on his mind, yet to be overcome.

It does not do to dwell on dreams, he thought again. There was much to be accomplished in the world at large, decisions to be made, laws to be passed, lives to be saved. It was not enough simply to know; it was in doing that the world could be changed. Answers were not nearly so valuable as actions.

Dumbledore shook himself - shook away the envy, for that was what it was - and focused again on the scene growing every brighter before him. Soon the sun would rise, and Hogwarts would become a shimmering vessel of color and stark shadows, filled with secrets of its own. All of the potential and hopes and even dreams he sought would soon be echoed a thousand times over within these halls, by the young and vibrant, the vividly innocent, the adventurous and the visionary. A thousand stories were waiting to unfold, here, with his guidance.

It was the first of September, after all.

Dobby surveyed the wrinkled list in his hands with the happy satisfaction of an elf who had learned to read. Admittedly, it had taken quite a bit of time before he could adequately decipher human handwriting - printed alphabets were so much more consistent - but Lily Evans and her mother had both helped him, their varying curvy handwriting samples providing him with excellent objects of study. And finally, when his confidence had reached his peak, he had returned to this, the most important of all writings.

The list Hermione Granger had left behind.

Or, more accurately, the list Dobby had inadvertently forgotten to take out of one of his socks after removing it from her notebook for covert review.

The list had several names that had been crossed out, but there were two mysterious names that Hermione Granger had never eliminated.

One, Quirinus Quirrel, belonged to an unassuming first-year student who, as far as Dobby could tell, did not pose any substantial threat, although Dobby had caught him pulling the caretaker's cat's tail and laughing about it. Dobby had severely berated him for this obvious symptom of evil, much to both the boy's and Dobby's terror.

Dobby would keep an eye on the boy, but he suspected all bad behavior might have been cured that day.

The other name, however, had proven to be a much more significant - and much more important - challenge. Dobby had been hunting the wizard for many weeks, always one step behind, always just a little too late to prevent the damage, disaster, and deception this wizard left in his wake. Luckily, Dobby was more than a match for remedying that disaster. He had broken many terrible spells, righted many wrongs, and made many good friends along the way. Still, he had come to feel a burning thirst to come face-to-face with the selfish, lying, thieving nemesis who continued to elude him - the nemesis who, to Dobby's satisfaction, still didn't know he was being hunted.

Dobby smiled his toothy grin at the crinkly paper, folding it up and tucking it back into his cauldron-patterned sock (a gift from Severus Snape). Dobby hadn't truly needed to examine the paper at all, but it filled him with joyful purpose to remind himself of his mission - to eliminate the last name on Hermione Granger's list:

Gilderoy Lockhart.

Severus stood in front of the mirror Hermione had Conjured into her (their) tent, examining his new reflection.

Today was the day. After months and months of waiting, of planning, of dreading (on his part, at least), it was finally time for him to make his public debut. If it had been up to him, he might have been content to remain here, sequestered with Hermione, brewing and studying, talking… kissing… There was a lot to be said for being a secret. But, as Hermione had begun pointing out, he couldn't live like this forever. If they were really going to have a life together, a life accepted and embraced by her family and friends, then people were going to need to know he existed.

So here he was - awaiting final approval of his new persona: Severin Snape.

He looked different. They had all agreed that this would be essential to their plan. He couldn't look like Severus Snape, couldn't dress like Severus Snape, couldn't have the same gestures and facial expressions as Severus Snape. The lattermost was surprisingly easy - he already smiled and laughed so much more than his older self that it was unlikely anyone would find too many similarities there. The clothing was easy to change as well - irritating, but easy. But his appearance?

He grimaced, eyeing the short hair surrounding his face - no, not surrounding it, exposing it, in ways it had never been exposed before. He looked unlike himself. Lighter, somehow. Like someone who didn't feel like he needed to hide.

Very unlike him.

"It's quite attractive," Hermione said from behind him, her gaze fixed on his reflection.

Severus's mouth twisted as he turned to look at her. "Hermione -" he began, then paused. He had assumed she was lying, but now that he was looking at her he could see a blush in her cheeks, a certain glitter in her eyes.

"You do think it's attractive!" he exclaimed. "Did you hate it long all this time?"

"No!" she said. "But - well, I can see so much more of you now."

"That's what bothers me," he said, reaching up to cover the sides of his cheeks as his hair might once have done.

"I like it," Hermione said, blushing a deeper red. Severus had to resist a sudden, intense urge to use Legilimency on her. What exactly was making her blush so much? He looked back at his reflection, nonplussed.

A soft pop outside the tent prevented him from asking more. There was a knock - although the tent had no door, so the sound must have been Conjured - followed by his older self's voice asking, "May I enter?"

Severus and Hermione met each other's gazes, both blushing now. The older man was obviously trying to avoid walking in on them in a state of near-undress again, which had happened a couple of weeks ago, to universal mortification.

"Yes," Hermione called out, amusement in her voice.

The older Severus entered cautiously, caught sight of his younger self, and stopped short, his gaze traveling from the short hair to the navy robes and Muggle blue jeans and then back up to the hair again.

"Well done," he said, sounding surprised and impressed. He glanced at Hermione. "You cut his hair?"

"No, he wouldn't let me. We got it done professionally."

The older Severus smirked slightly, but said, "It suits you. More than I would have imagined." Perhaps subconsciously, he reached up and brushed his own hair back behind his ears.

"You know, you could accomplish a similar effect if you would pull it back -"

"Miss Granger, I do not recall asking your advice on the subject of my hair." The man gave her a stern look until she deflated.

"Yes, sir," she muttered, although she still looked like she was itching to cast some kind of hair-styling charm on him. Severus was suddenly grateful for the short hair. At least she couldn't give him a ponytail or something.

"When will the others arrive?" the older man asked.

"Any minute now," Hermione said, a familiar expression of anxiety crossing her face. Severus felt an echoing anxiety in his stomach. This next step of their plan was crucial, and it was likely to be one of the most unpleasant.

He glanced at his older self, who, although clearly not anxious, nonetheless looked like he was bracing himself for a particularly gruesome task. Folding his hands behind his back, he paced to the far side of the tent, then back again.

"It'll be fine," Hermione said. "He'll -"

There was a series of three overlapping pops from outside. Hermione and both Severuses froze.

Ron Weasley's voice broke the silence aggressively. "Where is he?"

Hermione looked terrified. Severus, for his part, was grateful to deduce that Harry and Ginny must have already broken the worst of the news to Ron before Apparating. His older self merely sneered.

Without any further warning, Ron barged into the tent, only to stop dead just as the older Severus had done, but with an expression of pronounced shock.

"You - you look different," he said, a little shaken.

Harry and Ginny entered the tent behind him, glancing warily at Ron, then at Severus with interest.

"Wow," Ginny said. "You look great."

Severus felt his eyebrows shoot up. He expected Ron or even Harry to object, but neither one of them did.

"He's still Snape," Ron said after a moment, defensively, but sounding even more unsettled than before. "He's still…" But whatever insult he was grasping for must not have applied, for he couldn't finish.

"No one'll guess you're him," Harry said, looking relieved and satisfied. "Not even the ones who know about the Gates. You're just so…"

"Light," Ginny said.

"And normal," Harry added. "In a good way."

"A very un-Snape-like way," Ginny amended. "You look very approachable."

Severus grimaced. "That's why I liked the other."

"I know," Hermione said. "But… well…"

"I can't be like that now," Severus said, sighing. "I know." He looked at his older self. "Count your blessings, old man."

"I do not doubt I shall gain a new appreciation of my solitude once I have watched yours perpetually intruded upon."

"It's just so weird," Ron said, still looking him up and down. "You were basically a clone before. Now you're…"

"A son?" Hermione suggested.

"Yeah," Ron said. He let out a sudden laugh. "Like a son who rebelled. Is that a Muggle t-shirt you're wearing?"

Severus crossed his arms defensively, then, at all the raised eyebrows, huffed out a breath and pulled his robes open to display the logo.

"What is NIN?" Ron asked, baffled.

"Nine Inch Nails," Hermione said. "It's a Muggle band. Mum thought it would suit him."

"Your mum knows about all this?" Ron asked, outraged. "But you hid it from me?"

"Well, yeah," Ginny said. "She didn't want you walking in on them snogging like Snape did."

Ron choked. Severus and his older self both shot Hermione a look. "You told her?"

"Well, yes! It was embarrassing."

"So why would you tell her?"

"Because that's what friends do," Ginny said. "So we can make each other feel better. For example, I made Hermione feel better by telling her about Percy walking in on me and Harry while we were -"

"So what now?" Harry asked loudly, looking anywhere but at Ginny.

"Now," the older Severus said, "we secure Mr. Weasley's promise to assist us."

"We already did that," Harry said. "He's in."

"Begrudgingly," Ron muttered. "And only because I'm hoping Rita Skeeter writes another book about you."

Severus winced. Skeeter's first book about his older self, Sins, Secrets, and Sacrifices: The Story of Severus Snape, had been released a month ago. It was why Hermione had decided the time was right to reveal the younger Severus - Wizarding Britain was dying for another scandal about Snape to come out, and an actual illegitimate son would no doubt feel this was a prime opportunity for providing one.

"In that case," the older Severus said, "there is nothing left to do but confront me in a semi-public setting, to the shock and glee of everyone present. Miss Granger has generously offered her birthday party as an appropriate venue, and her parents have graciously agreed to pretend that my son reached out to them - the unwitting Muggles - to gain access to the event without the knowledge of any magical guests who might have prevented his attendance."

"So that's why you're throwing this huge party?" Ron asked. "I thought something was fishy about it… Parvati did, too."

That was the other reason Hermione had finally felt the time was right. Ron had started dating a girl named Parvati, who according to Hermione was turning out to be much more pleasant than his previous girlfriend Lavender. Hermione felt this would significantly reduce the likelihood of any kind of jealous rage.

Correctly, it seemed.

"Just make sure you don't tell her," Ginny warned, frowning at her brother.

"I won't!" Ron said. "I promised, didn't I? Anyway, it's funnier if it's his son. The idea of two Snapes is just disturbing. Especially as Hermione is snogging one of them." His face twisted in disgust.

"Oh, shut it," Ginny said. "Look at him, who can blame her?"

Severus might have been embarrassed if he hadn't caught Hermione grinning like a smug cat.

"You're taking this very well, Ron," she said, suddenly looking puzzled.

"That's because I slipped a Calming Draught into his orange juice before we told him," Ginny said.

"You what?" Ron said, with only marginal indignation.

"It's worn off some - you can see he's a bit worked up now - but he was almost philosophical about it when we first explained it all. Said Parvati's been seeing you and Snape in her crystal ball for months and he was just relieved it was the younger one."

Hermione looked startled by this. Ron nodded sagely. "It really is the lesser of two evils."

The older Severus snorted. "More Slytherin by the day," he said, meeting Ginny's eye.

"Well," Hermione said, eyeing Ron with some concern. "Maybe we ought to wait until it's fully worn off before we, er, go into more detail about the plan."

"C'mon, 'Mione," Ron said. "I made a promise! I won't back out. I might hex the bat, but I won't back out."

Severus raised an incredulous eyebrow at the notion of this boy - who had allowed his own sister to slip him something as easily detectable as a Calming Draught - managing to hex him, but chose not to comment. Unless, of course, the boy had meant his older self… but that was even more absurd.

"All right," Hermione said. "Well, then, let me get you the guest list - I think we ought to go over who might be likeliest to suspect -"

"And who might be likeliest to slip something to Rita Skeeter," Ginny said. "We invited a couple of people who are bound to tell her."

"Yes, I have the list here -"

Severus smiled, remembering with fondness the lists Hermione had first shown him - lists of ambitions to be fulfilled, enemies to defeat, good to champion in the face of all opposition. And here she was again, with another list made just for him. She truly was amazing.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny huddled around her, eagerly discussing people Severus would very soon have the chance - or the misfortune - to meet, enthusiastically planning out his entrance in their lives. Even Ron, from whom they had all expected much more resistance (bless Ginny's good sense in drugging him), seemed to be fully committed to their schemes. He seemed to particularly relish the idea of publicly insulting the older Snape.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" his older self murmured, coming to stand beside him.

"Very," Severus - Severin, now - agreed. He looked at the other man, so similar, and yet more and more different every day. "They would do the same for you, you know."

The older Severus's lip curved, a small but sincere shadow of the fuller smile Severus was growing used to showing. "I know."

Severus studied him for a moment, enjoying the hint of a smile, wishing, in an almost filial way, that he could inspire more. Hermione was right; his older self did need to be saved, just as he had been. They had started saving him already, all these Gryffindors, but Severus knew his older self could become so much more - could have so much more - if they could only make him believe it.

The older man caught him staring, and arched an eyebrow.

Severus arched an eyebrow back. "And what about brothers? Should I hint at the possibility that I might have some, and that they might want to meet you someday?"

His older self hesitated, and Severus could see the longing in his eyes - the longing to save the child he had been, a longing which, however dangerous to act upon, nonetheless filled even the younger Severus with a warm hope sometimes.

"There is no harm in alluding to the possibility," the older Severus said finally. "Although your girlfriend might disagree."

Severus sighed, looking back at Hermione, with her wild hair and her focused expression, and the smile that flashed quickly and easily across her face whenever one of her friends said something funny. "She had a happy home," he said. "I've spent time with her parents. They're… wonderful."

"I've met them. They are good people." The older man gave him a knowing look. "Her innocence is enviable."

"It is. But also… limiting. She doesn't have that wound to heal. She can't see…"

"Some might say that it is we who are limited."

"Maybe," Severus said, shrugging. "But I didn't feel like it was limiting when you brought me back here."

"She advocated for that as well."

"Because she likes me," Severus said, with a happy flush. "But if I had just been - an ally -"

"She would have left you behind."

"And you wouldn't have."

"You are far more than an ally to me," the older man pointed out.

"That's my point," Severus said, looking at him. "It's not limiting to - to have each other. We have pieces missing, and we've found some of those missing pieces in each other." He hesitated, holding the other man's gaze with effort. "Haven't we?"

"We have," his older self agreed. "I think Miss Granger would argue that we are capable of restoring those pieces in ourselves - without finding them elsewhere. In your case, I would be inclined to agree."

"But maybe not in other cases," Severus said.

"You want me to go?"

"That's not what I meant." Severus searched for words. "Only, I don't think it would be wrong if you did. It's nothing to be ashamed of, to - to wish we could make it better."

The older man stared at him for a long moment. "I am not ashamed of bringing you here," he said slowly.

"That's not what I -"

"Do you understand why I did it?"

"Because you wanted us to be happy."

"Because I decided it was no longer worth abiding by the rules that assured that we weren't. Even if those rules were… significant."

Severus snorted.

"I was tired of being obedient. Tired of being mastered by obligation and duty. Tired of the futility of our fate. In essence, I decided, 'to hell with it.'" The older man shrugged. "It was irresponsible in the extreme, and yet… why should I care? What do I owe to the fates, the laws, the multiverse? And why should I bear the weight of upholding them?" He shrugged again, as if to free himself of that weight, then arched another brow at Severus. "Of course, if the universe starts collapsing around our heads, I will have to insist on your return, but otherwise…"

Severus studied him for a moment, filled with a sharp impulse, but nervous of acting on it. Still… "To hell with it," he muttered, and hugged his older self.

He felt the man stiffen, in shock and perhaps also discomfort, but Severus had spent enough time hugging Hermione to know that it wasn't really altogether unpleasant.

Even so, when his older self started awkwardly patting him on the back, he figured it was time to release him. Those older eyes were still startled, wary, like a stray cat's.

"If you do ever go looking for the younger versions of us, you might need to learn that skill," Severus said lightly.

The older man looked even more taken aback for a moment, then, slowly, thoughtful. "I suppose I would, wouldn't I?"

"So maybe Hermione is right," Severus said. "We should find the missing pieces within us… and maybe one day we could help the rest of us do the same."

His older self's expression dissolved into self-deprecation. "Miss Weasley's right. We are becoming more Hufflepuff by the day."

Severus laughed, and the Gryffindors looked up.

"Oy," Ron said. "You two helping or what? We are doing this for you, you know… gits."

"Ron," Hermione chided, but Severus grinned. "Sorry, Ronald."

Ron narrowed his eyes. Severus narrowed his, much more impressively, judging by Ron's slight recoil.

"Get over here, then," Ron groused.

Grinning at his older self, Severus joined his friends. A moment later, the older man did the same, easily falling into the teasing banter and snarky plotting, with an interest and comfort he rarely showed to anyone. Severus watched Ron's surprise, Harry's amusement, Ginny's enjoyment of the challenge. He watched the warm affection shining in Hermione's eyes. He hoped his older self could see these things - precious to Severus, treasures that had made his life worth living, in any world. He hoped his older self felt, as he did, that they belonged here, that these were people worth keeping.

The older man glanced down at him, meeting his gaze, then mirroring his smile. Deliberately, he placed a hand on Severus's shoulder, his eyes filled with that kinship that went beyond any father and son, beyond any family, although they were beginning to learn what that could mean.

It was the kinship of looking at themselves, and seeing a man worth being.

THE END