Disclaimer: Whatever JK Rowling made up is easily recognisable and very much not mine. The rest, albeit not as good, is logistically my doing.

Summarise: After years of self-impose exile, Severus Snape is confronted with everything and the one person he had never wanted to see again.

Chapter One

The exhibition was a success. Not that he had expected anything different. It wasn't as if he had failed at anything else he had dedicated himself completely to, or whatever he had devoted all of his competence to.

At first, it had sounded ludicrous and degrading to do it but soon he dismissed this old prejudice from his mind. It wasn't as if he actually could do any of the things he had spend most of his life doing, and he most certainly wouldn't be able to go back to what he had been born to do.

After 12 years away from everything and everyone, he was growing used to this life - this new and excruciating life - without the one thing that made him not feel the way he felt all the time. When everything came to an end – its rightful end – he hadn't really thought that he would have been able to have an option. It pained him greatly to know why, and how, he had gained such a right, but mostly he was still infuriated because of who he owned most of it to.

When he turned his back on the Wizarding World, not expecting any kind of acknowledgement for everything he had put on the line for them all, he did it silently. It wasn't as if anyone else expected him to give them a speech, but he knew he had surprised them for not gloating.

Severus Snape had never - and would never - need anyone else's approval. He had lived most of his life without so much as respect from them and besides, everything he had done, he had done for himself and nobody else.

'Tell me, Mr. Black, what's your main inspiration?'

He closed his eyes and sighed. Severus looked around, glancing at all those plain, blank faces, wrinkled by worry, hard work and deprivation: physical, financial and emotional agony.

'I mean... these pictures are breathtaking but they are a tad - sad, aren't them?'

'I photograph what I see, not what I'd like to see.'

'Still, these people... none of them smiled for you.'

Severus was tempted to snort but held himself because the woman had bought two of his most expensive pictures. His agent would kill him if he was rude - or, at the very at least - outright obnoxious.

'Everything and everyone around you is beautiful and happy?' he asked plainly. 'Where do you live? Up a marble tower? Inside a bubble?'

The old woman giggled, clearly not detecting his sarcasm and thinking that he was merely amusing her. He almost sneered, almost.

'But of course not!' she waved a dismissive hand 'But that doesn't keep me from smiling or laughing every now and again!'

He nodded, staring at the dirty face of a young child he had encountered working illegally in the depths of a nameless third world country. Severus didn't want to make any kind of moral apology, he wanted to show people what they didn't want to see. He wanted to crash the limited world they carefully put together around themselves.

He just wanted to be blatantly unpleasant to all these clueless and pathetic muggles.

'Oh, how nice...' he drawled softly 'A perfectly pleasant life you have.'

Without waiting for a reply, he calmly walked away.

It had started as an accident, really. One day, as he was walking in Hyde Park, one Japanese tourist asked him to photograph her and her pack of overly excited friends. Severus did consider hexing her but that'd have been too impulsive and he rarely ever gave in to his impulsion.

His very life had killed any chance of Snape being spontaneous. It hadn't taken him long to learn that nothing good ever came from it. It was the reason why he had almost got himself killed by a werewolf as a kid, or why he had got the most regrettable mark anyone could have and why he had followed an order he had promised himself he wouldn't honour.

Sometimes he damned The Marauders, others Voldemort, not unusually he blamed Dumbledore, too. At his worst, he blamed his parents, but to get to this point he'd have to be either completely immersed in the past, or absolutely inebriated, for he never deliberately thought of his parents or the others.

Severus was a firm believer that the dead should be left dead.

That was why he always ended up blaming himself. He had been at fault for being weak enough to let those imbeciles ridicule him, he had been pathetic for going off to Tom Riddle and allow himself to be fooled by such a conman. And he had been stupid for turning to Albus, aware that the damn fool would give everything for his cause.

Including Severus' soul.

It was funny to think that almost nothing had affected him more than knowing that he had been the one to send Albus Dumbledore flying off the Astronomy Tower. But that, most certainly, didn't mean that he didn't resent the old Headmaster fiercely for it.

So after the war was over – the Dark Lord had been effectively defeated – and the bloody Boy Who Lived had accomplished his deed, Severus Snape was a murderer and a Death Eater who needed to be dealt with and there was only one simple solution for that and it involved a close and personal encounter with Dementors.

Not that he'd really minded. Taking in consideration that it was a miracle that he had been alive through it all, and that he had actually got out of Riddle's little horror circus basically intact, he hadn't really expected anything but animosity and a big crowd to witness his demise.

That's when it had happened. That's when the world had gone upside down on him once again, even though Severus had always hated every single life-defining moment he had forced to endure, in which he had no kind of power whatsoever and was manipulated around.

This particular manipulation had saved his life, but then again all the others had done the same, or claimed to, and in the end, he had always ended up even more fucked than ever before, defying reason.

But what really pissed him off wasn't that he was still alive, though he wasn't about to dance in the rain to hail it, he clearly wasn't about to do something to change it either. What really left him bursting with self-hatred and disgust was the fact that he owed this little fact to a Potter.

Not one, or just once.

But two different generations, in two different situations.

Two different, but too close to comfort, generations of Potters.

James Potter had got him out of the Shrieking Shack, but the arrogant, conceited, bloody Gryffindor had only done it so his dear friend wouldn't face serious consequences for being the mind behind Snape's death.

There had been no benevolent act or solidarity in it, something for what – even though he'd never utter a word to anyone – he'd be forever grateful. It was always a relief to know that in his own brave, heroic way, James had never stopped being an arse.

For all the tormenting the senior Potter had put him through, all the years of humiliation and gratuitous public attacks, Severus had always been sure that he had more than a right to hate James' son… it was almost his cosmic obligation to do so.

Like father, like son.

And the boy had had such a terrible karma that his godfather had been Black.

Sure the wanker had been falsely accused of murder, spent 12 years in Azkaban for something he hadn't done, and that the only thing that had kept him sane – as sane as a sick son of a bitch like him could be – had been to know that he had to avenge his best friends, yet Sirius had been the type of man that deserved Azkaban just for breathing, so no harm done there.

It would have been insane to expect him to mourn the damn man. Severus was many things but he had never been a hypocrite.

He had made it clear to Dumbledore that he wasn't about to wipe Harry Potter's arse just because the boy had – at the time, presumably – defeated the greatest dark wizard that had ever existed. The brat was still a Potter and he had sworn to hate them all.

The fact that the Golden Boy was a carbon copy of his blasted father just helped matters, really.

So even with everything he had done – indirectly, obviously – to help the bloody boy, Severus still hated his guts. Sure he expected the incompetent twat to win, again, but that hadn't meant that he was about to become one of his minions.

Secretly he had been glad to know that the boy had seen him – doing what he had done to Albus. That sure as hell would kill any kind of possible - anything between them. After the pensive incident during Potter's fifth-year all that Severus had ever wanted from the boy was distance.

But clearly he hadn't made that crystal obvious during six years of public belittling and deprecating exchange of words, offensive comments and a few truths tossed here and there about the boy's father and his cronies.

After all that had happened between them, Harry fucking Potter had testified on his behalf and was the only one to be responsible for his mere 10 years in Askaban, with the possibility of "social rehabilitation" after eight years of "well-behaved enclosure". As if there was a way to be ill-behaved in a cell as you spend day and night reliving your worst imagined, and lived, nightmares.

It was really horrible to imagine that what led the Ministry Poster-Boy to his defense was learning what Albus had practically forced Severus to do it, using his promise to Narcissa and his unhidden care for Draco to whip him into action.

The worst wasn't that he was alive and free because of the Boy Who Lived. The worst was knowing that he was alive and free because Harry Potter's memory of Dumbledore had been shattered and he sympathized with Severus.

Sympathized, surely, because if Snape ever suspected that the boy had pitied him, he'd finish what the Ministry and Wizarding World hadn't had the guts to.

When he left Azkaban, Severus had spent the last 2 years of his sentence being monitored by Aurors and Healers. All of them trying to gauge anything that could indicate that he was about to go berserk and had to be tossed indefinitely back inside the prison.

Too bad for them, Severus Snape never did what people wanted him to.

Well, at least not when given a choice.

So for those two years he hibernated, barely had a life of his own and lived in a shitty place with a shitty job in an apothecary. It had been cruel, even worse than leaving him in Azkaban, to put him so close to the only things he had ever truly loved in his life while he knew he could never touch anything.

For all those years, he barely missed his wand but he itched every day to brew a potion.

Only when he was fully released was he able to have his wand back and given permission to work on his cauldron again. But by that time, Severus Snape was persona non-grata in the Wizarding World, an official pariah. He would never find a job mastering potions, and teaching again was completely out of question. No one would hire a former Death Eater and murderer, no matter what he had done to redeem himself of both crimes.

So Severus left it all behind and forsook magic.

He did use his wand at home, for mild purposes, and he had a lab at his house where he brew his beloved potions and even dared to create new and efficient new mixtures. All the while aware that he could never again share the knowledge he was acquiring, and developing, with anybody else.

The thought didn't bother him half as much as it probably should but only when he got hold of a camera for the first time did he see that he really could do something he could be acknowledged for.

Unlike the digital apparatus that the tourist had handed to him that day, Severus mostly liked to work with good old fashion film. He suspected that it had been that part of the process that got him further into the activity. It was so much like doing something at the lab - the chemistry involved, the precision required and how even the smallest changes had grand effects as results fascinated him.

One day, as he was unobtrusively enjoying a quiet afternoon at a café, a noisy young man had glimpsed over his shoulder, checking his pictures as he studied them after one long night in the dark-room he sometimes turned his lab into. The annoying prat had been the tall, auburn-haired and dimpled figure of Yorick Brown. Severus had disliked him on sight, but then again he disliked most everyone on sight. Yorick hadn't seemed bothered by his foul temper, had only smiled and told him that he reminded Brown of the boy's father.

Snape didn't know who the progenitor of such an obnoxious creature was but he had despised the comparison all the same. Still, it had been thus that he had met his agent. Brown put up with him and the reciprocity was true so Severus photographed and Yorick sold, it was an arrangement that worked pretty well for both of them.

Well, it did when Snape didn't bite potential clients' heads off.

'Mr. Black, why do you only work with black-and-white shots?'

He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes praying for patience.

'Because some people are color blind.'

The imbecile actually nodded, making consensual noises, as if Severus had given him a very personal insight.

The older man groaned.

That was one of the things he hated the most about exhibitions. All these muggles, making stupid questions and acting as if his answers held the essence of his being and the world as they knew it.

It was really close to what he used to go through at any social gathering when he was still a Potions Master. He had come up with ideas for more than a couple of herbs and potions, just to amuse himself, while suffering with - and ignoring most - of the conversations he had had with pretense geniuses in the area during such events. Dumbledore would then smile at him knowingly, his blue eyes twinkling in bemusement.

Severus had always abhorred any kind of forced interaction, be them organized for purely social purposes – like weddings, birthday parties or anything as ridiculous as that -, or those organized to obvious detrimental ends; such as Death Eaters meetings. In his estimation, there was little difference when one took in consideration the amount of agony that could be witnessed in such events – if anything, at least Voldemort's gatherings rarely lasted very long.

He figured he should enjoy his exhibitions more than he was in the moment; after all, those people were there to tell him how brilliant they thought he was. But, despite what everyone would actually believe, Severus had never appreciated to be under the spotlight.

'Severus Black?'

Slightly shaken from his mental digression, he took a deep calming breath before he turned towards the person talking to him. Yorick had already caught him pretending not to hear when someone had called him and the twit had threatened him with a round of interviews if he did it again that night.

'Yes?'

The young man looked at him with a tiny frown on his brow, his eyes danced over Severus' face, sparkling with curiosity. Snape couldn't help but frown in retaliation at that open perusal, allowing himself the time to reflect whether he knew that young stranger.

He was just as tall as Severus, his black hair seemed to reach his shoulder but the green beret on his head kept most of it from view. The younger man was also incredibly pale, the kind of pallor that he had had once. Thanks to too many days and nights spent in the dungeons.

The other man was wearing black trousers and a green shirt, much in the same deep shade of his cap. His face revealed that he looked too young to be over thirties, but his eyes shone wistfully, proving that he was way out of his teens.

Severus couldn't see any prominent feature, or anything that could actually spark recognition or mark that face in his memory. There was no Victorian nose like his, or a constant frown, black lengthy hair or onyx eyes. Nothing unusual, just ordinary.

Too ordinary.

He was sure the boy knew exactly who he was, though. The way his eyes stopped at Severus' nose, or skimmed over Severus' hair, his right eyebrow raising at finding most of it pulled back from his face was quite telling. He did it the way one does when looking at something once very familiar but unseen for such a long time that they can't help but take the time to catalogue the differences between the memory they had and the current reality of it.

Snape frowned deeply, his eyes narrowing and his voice low and rasp, as it hadn't been for all those forsaken years. He had surely thought he had forgotten all about it, but there it was. For one dull moment, the older man believed he was back in his beloved dungeons, with his despicable students.

'I do believe it is awfully rude to stare openly at someone without so much as a word.'

The young man blinked furiously, his eyes widening ever so softly before he grinned. Severus' eyes narrowed to slits.

'I'm sorry' the other said politely, smiling. 'I just wanted to make sure that it was really—I mean. I was just surprised. I didn't - I couldn't believe-'

'You're not making any sense.'

This time the young man chuckled and nodded.

'I know' he continued in the same patient and curious tone, 'I'm sorry. I just never thought I'd see you again... It's been so many years and we looked all over for you - of course, it never crossed my mind to look for you in midst of muggles but—'

Severus started.

A wizard.

After two solid years away from London, let alone Diagon Alley, making sure he buried himself deep into that life; that plain, boring life.

He knew his sudden tension showed because the young man's face went blank immediately. For some reason that affected Snape more than if he had seen a wand pointing at his throat.

He had seen that blank face before. He had seen that cold detachment, that patient challenge. Severus took a step back.

'Who are you?'

He wished he had demanded it, but he had merely hissed the inquiry. It was shameful yet he couldn't do anything to change it. It was like he was back at Azkaban, back to dreading and seeing that nothing had changed... those empty blue depths could still watch him, scrutinize him and take everything away.

The young man seemed to sense this change of pace, too, his face adopting a concerned expression, the eyes staring in askance at the older man. Severus had the terrible certainty that his reaction wasn't the first of the kind that the other had witnessed.

Long bony fingers, slightly stained with a yellow substance, moved over that young face and rubbed those eyes firmly. Snape couldn't understand why but his breathing became labored.

For all the time he had spent far away from magic, and the world it had ruled for centuries, he had never feared to be found and sent back. In fact, he had kind of expected that to happen - the day when they would say, "Enough nonsense! Get that greasy old bat back here, lock him up and throw away the key, yeah?"

He figured he'd deal with what came very well when it actually happened. What he couldn't deal with was a bloody git who looked at him as, as - only one person had ever had.

The hand suddenly stopped the movement and pulled away. Unable to look anywhere else, Severus waited for those eyes to open again. He couldn't help but chasten himself, those years among muggles made him sloppy.

A Glamour, obviously, and he hadn't noticed it earlier. By Salazar, he was getting old!

When those eyelids were pried open again, Snape was sure he was going to regret his question. When those eyes blinked the light away, he was almost sure he would be sick. When the pupils got used to the light inside the gallery and shrank to reveal the deepest and most vivid dark green he had ever seen, Severus was on the verge of having an apoplectic fit.

Fuck.

Harry Potter.

'What are you doing here?'

Potter laughed kindly, his hand moving back to his face. Snape considered punching him, and what surprised him was the fact that the urge to cause bodily pain to the brat surpassed the itching to hex him into the next century.

'Only my eyes, Professor?' Potter asked lightly, clearly impressed '...that's a first.'

'I'm not a professor.'

The younger man nodded in acquiesce and pulled his hand off his face. It shouldn't take so much to do something simple like a Glamour on his eyes, it was when Severus slapped himself mentally. It wasn't a spell, Potter hadn't cast an illusion charm, he had changed the color of his eyes. And he had probably fixed his deficient eyesight too for he wasn't wearing those insufferable glasses.

Severus could have been impressed that the boy could do such a complicated transformation, not being a metamorphmagus himself, but as everything in Potter had ever infuriated him, these new abilities only unnerved him more.

'Right', he smiled before he added in a solicitous tone ' You're a photographer.'

'What are you doing here, Potter?'

'Why, I was invited here, sir.'

As if in cue, Yorick appeared out of nowhere and pulled Potter in a bone-crashing, bear hug. Both boys laughed happily, tightening their holds around each other.

'Harry! You came!'

'Yorick, how are you, mate?'

'I'm fine! And you?'

'I'm alright.'

'I see you've just met the grand artist.'

'I was on the verge to, actually', the brunette slyly looked over at Severus before continuing in an overly polite manner 'I'm Harry Potter, sir. It's a real honour to finally meet you, Mr. Black.'

Severus looked at the outstretched hand for far longer than it was necessary, or polite to do so, but he really could care less. If Brown hadn't been there, he would have stood there all night without getting anywhere near the damn boy. But he couldn't raise any kind of suspicion, least of all with Yorick, the boy wouldn't let him live it down.

Curling his lips, he took Potter's hand in a bone crashing handshake. The Golden Boy returned it just as fiercely, his grin never wavering.

'Liked anything, Harry?' Brown asked with one arm still draped over Potter's shoulders.

'Actually, yes I did. You have a very good eye, Mr. Black, I like the way you play with the shadows in your work.'

Severus didn't even have a mind to insult him. He merely sneered, drawing a hideous grin from his former student and an intrigued frown from Yorick.

'Don't mind him, Harry - he's just a bitter old man. You know, the troubled genius type.'

That Brown was absolutely right didn't change the fact that Snape wouldn't need him to justify his behavior to anyone, least of all to the bloody Boy Who Lived.

'What have I told you about talking about me when I'm right next to you, Brown?'

'You probably told me to never do it but I wouldn't be sure', the younger man smirked that disgusting dimpled smirk of his and turned to the other young man at his right 'He's always telling not to do a lot of things where he's concerned - it's hard to keep track.'

'Where do you two know each other from?'

Yorick hesitated, glancing over at Severus, suddenly unsure of himself. It wasn't often when Snape showed much – or any - interest in his life.

Harry and I went to university together. He was my best friend's roommate, weren't you, Harry?'

'Yes.' Potter smiled lightly, 'How's Howard doing?'

Yorick's eyes grew ever so lightly, like they always did when he was talking about something he was interested in, which would be his friends and money.

'Pretty fine.' He waved a dismissive hand and then shrugged 'Finally came out, in fact.'

Severus noticed that the Golden Boy blinked once, twice, his smile frozen on his face and his eyes absolutely impassive. It was hesitation, through and through. Obviously the prudish brat wasn't very comfortable with his ex-roommate's queerness.

'Really? How did it go?' Even though his facial expression hadn't changed in the least, Snape detected an exaggerated nonchalant in Potter's voice. Nothing that Brown would pick on but it did perk up his curiosity.

Well, it had before he remembered that it was Potter and Severus just wanted him out of there. Or dead. Whatever happened faster.

'Terribly.' Yorick shook his head with little sympathy in his voice and demeanor 'But he's happy now - he should have been here but his latest got sick and he's taking care of him.'

Potter nodded and unconsciously let his fingertips brush over his left forearm, his eyes dancing over his own body then moving to the picture at his left, until he found the ever-watchful eyes of Severus Snape.

'I see', he said with a little nod.

'You went to university.'

Potter's eyebrow rose imperceptibly, but it was enough to make Snape's features spasm in what almost ended up being a curl of lips. It pained the former potions professor to talk to him at all and for the life of him, Severus didn't know why he was saying anything even as he uttered the words.

'Yes.' He said amicably, 'I majored on chemistry.'

'Chemistry', was Severus' blank echo and it earned him another irritating nod.

Brown chose that moment to be the disgustingly energetic person that he was and started to clap excitedly as he gestured wildly between the men before him.

'Severus here used to be a chemistry teacher, too, Harry!' he bluntly ignored his artist's scowl, focusing on his old friend's pleasant smile 'You two have a lot in common!'

Snape hated it, he honestly loathed himself for what he was about to do, but it was inescapable and he knew it. He simply had to ask the question, aware that not even the nonchalant and controlled tone he used, masked the shock the information had caused in him.

'You are a teacher.'

Potter nodded and smiled kindly, probably aware of the indignation that was oozing from the Potions Mater's every pore.

'Yes, sir' he said politely as if waiting for a disaster to happen 'I have been one for over 4 years.'

'A -' Severus' lip did curl this time 'Chemistry teacher?'

'Yes.'

With the shock of talking to a wizard, this wizard being the very last one he would ever want to encounter in what was left of his existence, and finding out that Harry Potter was a Potions Professor, Severus Snape was nearly sure that he was still in Azkaban and his mind had finally caved.

It was the only explanation for that surreal experience.

He was so sure that was the case, that when Brown chimed in, breaking the uncomfortable silence Severus hadn't noticed that he had let fall among them, he was almost startled.

'Will you excuse me for a sec?' Yorick was quite obviously talking to his friend 'They're calling Black over there. He never attends these sort of gatherings so I'm the one who answers all the questions— can you chaperone him for a bit please, Harry? Severus is known for his French departure. Thank you for coming, man!'

Potter dared to send Snape a grin before he nodded towards his friend.

'Thank you for inviting me, Yorick.'

As soon as the muggle was out of earshot, Snape crossed his arms over his chest, his head tilted slightly back as he looked down at Potter from over his nose.

'What do you want, Potter?'

'Is it really so hard to believe that this is all a good coincidence, S - Black?' the younger man shrugged as he turned his attention to another one of the pictures hung at the gallery.

'A good coincidence?' Snape drawled with clear disgust at the mere idea 'Yes, it is very hard to believe that.'

'Well, that's too bad' Potter shrugged again, not sparring his former professor a look '...because it is. I most certainly would never suspect that Severus Black could be you. I even joked about it with Ron, how you would certainly have an aneurysm if you ever found out that there was someone out there with yours and Sirius' name.'

Snape ignored the poke in his words. He would not explain his decisions to the brat. Of course, it wasn't that much of a stretch to deduce that the older man had wanted out, he'd wanted peace. He had wanted everyone to just forget he had ever existed.

With enough luck, all of them would have assumed him dead.

'How amusing' Snape said, making clear that he found it anything but.

'I mean it, Snape' he grinned but still didn't look at him. 'I didn't know you were here-you did your best to keep everyone away. Even I know that you've got to respect that.'

The Potions Master only stared as Potter leaned forward to inspect one of his pictures.

'You know, I meant what I said about the shadows. Do you really only use natural light?'

'Yes' was his grunted answer.

'That's very impressive-it reminds me of some of Salgado's work.'

'That's a relief since he is a reference', was the reply, dripping with sarcasm.

'Really?' that made the other man cast him a glance briefly, his eyes shinning with amusement 'Well, good. I didn't say anything stupid then.'

Snape's snort made it quite clear that he doubted fiercely that Potter would ever be able to say anything that wasn't stupid. Still, the older man didn't leave his side. Severus wanted the boy gone, at once, but he also wanted to know what the bloody hell he was doing there.

What could the Wizarding World want from him this time? What would he have to lose to the Golden Boy? He had handed over more than he cared to admit because of the insufferable idiot.

'Have you ever considered teaching?'

The question was low, secretive but also light and talkative. It took Snape a few seconds to truly decide that there was no outright threat in it. Was it possible that Potter was truly trying to chitchat?

Slytherin be damned, he must be drooling and barking in the deepest and darkest cell in Azkaban.

'Although I do admit that I am good ', Severus narrowed his eyes slightly, he had really believed that his sanity would have lasted longer than mere 12 years of progressive psychological torture, 'I don't yet believe I master the technicalities to teach photography satisfactorily.'

Potter chuckled lightly and shook his head, being careful enough to avoid eye contact still.

'I mean potions, Snape, have you ever thought about teaching potions again?'

Severus' sharp intake of breath could only be heard by him and Potter, and that was already an abysmally big crowd.

'I see', he hissed threateningly 'I knew it wasn't just a coincidence. Get out, Potter.'

The boy raised his hands in a peace sign, in response to the other man's bark. Severus didn't care about how placating the boy wanted to appear in that moment, what he wanted was to get rid of Potter and if he had to use magic in front of a room full of muggles. So be it.

'Calm down, Snape' he said as patiently and politely as he had all night '...it's only a question. I'm looking for a new professor and I couldn't find anyone qualified for the job, and I find you here of all places-I don't know. It did sound like too good of a chance to let it go by without a word.'

'There's no way in hell, I will go back to Hogwarts.'

Severus was surprised by his throatily hiss and by the look on Potter's face so was he. Snape cursed himself a fool, but he still couldn't imagine how the boy had caught the hint of hurt in his aggressive tone but, if his impassive stare was any indication, the Golden Boy had caught it right on.

'I understand.' Potter replied in a monotone 'I will never set my foot there again either. I'm at Durmstrang.'

'Durmstrang'

'Yes, fabulous school', his voice pleasant again, although he obviously was trying hard to hold back most of his enthusiasm, Severus could see the way his green eyes shone.

He hated to admit but he was taken aback. Of all the things the Golden Boy could have said, his mention of the ancient school really was unexpected. It wasn't only that Potter had managed to become a teacher, both in Wizarding and Muggle world, he had actually managed to become a Potions teacher who worked at a school that notoriously emphasized its syllabus on Dark Arts.

The world had gone to plot and Severus could feel a migraine coming.

'Are you Durmstrang's Headmaster?' he bit out through his tightly clenched teeth.

'No.' Potter chuckled, clearly amazed that the older man would think such a thing 'I'm only a teacher.'

'Then why are you looking for professors?' the Potions Master bit out impatiently and rudely.

'I'm just trying to help.' He shrugged, 'Piotr is the Headmaster really. Besides, if I'm going to stop teaching Potions, I rather leave someone else qualified in my place. We do have the best OWL and NEWT scores and I wouldn't want to change that.'

'Piotr' again Severus simply reproduced the word without any kind of feeling behind it.

'Antokolsky, he went to Hogwarts in his seventh-year.'

Severus scowled and sneered at the boy's petulance.

'I know who he is', he drawled annoyed 'I never forget my Slytherins.'

That seemed to wipe the Golden Boy's smile, politeness and patience right out of his face, voice and eyes. That is more like it, Snape couldn't help but think perversely satisfied.

This dabble into an alternate universe – a very unlikely and distasteful one at that – was becoming far too disturbing and tiring. It made Severus feel out of depth, to not only see Potter after 15 years but also have him offering a job?

It was just too much for an old spy to take in one evening. But a mutinous Harry Potter? Now that made the world round again and the Potions Master could feel the ground under his feet again.

'But of course.' Potter offered in a monotone not unlike the imbecilic one he had used for 7 years in school.

Unsurprisingly, it was Brown's return that ended the torture session; with a big irritating grin and as his right arm flung itself over his old friend's shoulders.

'You actually managed to keep him here?' the American laughed shaking the Potter slightly, 'Harry, you're a miracle maker!'

'So have I been told repeatedly.' Snape sneered and turned on his heels, missing Yorick's stumped and Potter's blank expression.

The exhibition was most definitely, officially over.