Pigs to Slaughter

Summary: Snape travels back through time to do what he hates most. Teach Potter. For this time, he won't be a pig raised for slaughter, this time he won't let Dumbledore kill Lily's Last. Unfortunately this backfires horribly when other children decide they want to be with Snape too.

"We both know Lord Voldemort has ordered the Malfoy boy to murder me. But should he fail, I should presume the Dark Lord will turn to you. You must be the one to kill me, Severus. It is the only way. Only then will the Dark Lord trust you completely. There will come a time when Harry Potter must be told something. But you must wait until Voldemort is at his most vulnerable."

"Must be told what?" Snape asked.

"On the night Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to kill Harry, and Lily Potter cast herself between them, the curse rebounded. When that happened, a part of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living thing it could find. Harry himself. There's a reason Harry can speak with snakes. There's a reason he can look into Lord Voldemort's mind. A part of Voldemort lives inside him. "

"So when the time comes... the boy must die?"

"Yes. Yes... he must die. We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength," said Dumbledore…
Snape stood up. "You have used me."
"Meaning?"
"I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter-"

"But this is touching, Severus," said Dumbledore seriously. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

"For him?" shouted Snape. "Expecto Patronum!"
From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.
"After all this time?"
"Always," said Snape. (J.K Rowling, Deadly Hallows)

Spinner's End. The same old terraced house. The same old bookshelves that coated every wall. The same old dust and threadbare furniture.

When was he? What was the date?

He summoned the newspaper to his hand silently and swiftly, magic curling around him in a bitter, barely suppressed rage. Not as far back as he wished. It was still far, far too late. But perhaps something still could be done yet.

Potter's third year? Ah, yes... the year with the convict, the traitor and the werewolf who nearly murdered everyone. He had believed firmly, at the time, that Black had murdered the Potters. How very much he'd wanted to wring Black's neck personally himself, but he'd stopped short of personally killing him. He had wanted the man to pay for his crimes where everyone could see it; he had wanted to be vindicated.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face.

"I wish to speak to Harry and Hermione alone," Dumbledore repeated.

Snape took a step toward Dumbledore.

"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly.

Snape turned on his heel and marched through the door Fudge was still holding.

Dumbledore had not cared. Of course, Black had turned out to be innocent after all, but had there been an inch of doubt there? It baffled his mind how that band of bastards, time and again, had shown themselves above reproach. Over and over he'd been told that all his rage was nothing more than a childhood grudge, all culpability on his behalf for daring to despise saint Potter. Like it would kill Black or Lupin to even apologize to him.

He wasn't a Gryffindor, he supposed; had he simply been sorted somewhere else, he doubted everything would have gone the way it had. He doubted Dumbledore would have treated him the way he had, but then, he had Potter raised a pig for the culling, didn't he? But he still treated Potter, both Potters, with far more respect than he ever would Severus the Slytherin.

"Sometimes, I think we sort too soon."

Breath, Severus, breath.

He'd respected him. He'd trusted him. Again and again, Dumbledore had betrayed him, played mind-games with him. Killing the last of Lily?

That went too far.

He'd wasted his entire life protecting a boy who was to die anyway, all those times he'd been berated for not caring for the boy when Dumbledore had been planning for him to die all along at the right moment. Both of them had been used. The man hadn't had the decency to tell the truth to either of them; he merely wanted them to do his bidding and be at his disposal without question or protest.

He'd thought.. thought he'd been devoting the rest of his life to Lily. Oh, Lily. How he had wronged her.

"Remember Lily's eyes, Severus?"

All this time, the man had been taunting him. He crumbled the newspaper, and shook his head. It was a waste to contemplate. No matter if they were in the wrong, Voldemort was immeasurably worse. And that was why he would, if there was no other choice, follow Dumbledore's wishes still. But he would never forgive the man, nor stop hating him; deep down, he was easily able to muster the hate necessary to wish the man dead. As was, he suspected, Dumbledore's plan all along.

There was nothing to describe the despair he felt; like fingers digging furrows through his spine, and the desperation, the willingness to do anything. But that was then. Now that desperation had born fruit, and here he was, grim, determined, and back in the past.

It turned out there had been another last ditch plan, if the war turned out to be 'too much to bear' for precious martyr Potter, if Voldemort won in spite of anything, a plan to turn back time. Snape could have throttled Dumbledore when he discovered it, when his rage had fully overcome all respect he had for the man and he had slipped, for the briefest of times, into Dumbledore's own mind while the man was distracted. The man was a master at mind-games, but years of practice under life and death conditions had made Severus Snape into one of the greatest for the magical side of it. Even then, he'd only been able to get the briefest glimpse.

The Hallows were all too real. Apparently, ownership over all three Deathly Hallows gave one control over death. Control that included coming back to life well before the time one actually had died.*

And so, with surprisingly little effort, he had wrested the Hallows from their owners. Potter, bah, the boy truly couldn't duel to save his life- though now Snape had some suspicion why.

And Dumbledore?

He died at Snape's own wand after all; just like the coot wanted. It was extremely simple to grab all the Hallows.

Then Snape committed suicide, though not before telling Potter he was a horcrux, in case it truly didn't work and he had just screwed everyone over (such was a familiar thing to him by this point).

If Severus truly died, it would be no loss whatsoever, not to anyone, not even to himself with all the self-loathing he held. To be on the extra safe side, he ensured Potter had easy access to them, although if they didn't work for him he doubted it would work for Potter either. Perhaps Dumbledore's real plan had been for Harry Potter to collect all the Hallows in the first place? Rather risky and ridiculous, considering the original plan would have ended up with the elder wand in Voldemort's hand and thievery was a perfectly acceptable way to gain ownership in the past; such a thing like that made Snape inclined to believe Dumbledore really did intend for Harry to die. His admittedly more intelligent companion, Hermione Granger, and that twit Ron Weasley would have done anything to avenge him.

Surprisingly, fate didn't hate him this time. It let him go. The Hallows had worked, sending him through a dark tunnel. But only so far, apparently. He had no idea if three years were truly enough to change anything, but if nothing else, well, he could give...

No, there wasn't really much he could give to Potter; the boy despised him. Slowly, he stopped in his tracks, only now really letting himself consider the consequences. What had he been thinking, to go with this foolhardy plan? To be so brash as to rush into this? The boy would reject any training he offered, any truth, and especially any companionship. Even a fool could see that Snape hated Potter, and so any critique he had to offer would immediately be dismissed as biased. That was the way it had always been.

Yet... he owed Lily. The one person who had shown him what true companionship could be like, even if he stupidly pushed it away, even if she later grew disinterested him. Sometimes, he liked to imagine a younger version of Lily not giving up on him when the older had, the younger Lily who was never entranced by Potter in any way. But he now recognized that as mere fantasy.

And now that he was in the past, he could not exactly decide not to try at all, not with so much at stake.

To Privet Drive then.

He headed out the door, Disillusion charmed himself, and flew.

The solace of the night was comforting, and he used the time to clear his thoughts like the master of the mental arts he was. The wizard took one last glance at the old house that Lily had grown up in before it grew into a tiny speck, mind comfortingly devoid of thought but still full of longing that he dared not to express. It was quite some distance, from the old mill town to the rows of dull houses, so he traveled with speed.

Was that... a balloon woman that just floated past him?

Severus landed, behind a playground. Potter, as was typical, was not far from the scene of disaster. However, that was not his first concern. It looked like the boy was leaving his relatives. Ah, yes, it must have been that incident! He remembered faintly hearing about it; it seemed like eons ago now. The situation was quite perfect, actually. It gave him the perfect excuse to talk to the boy, all without ever speaking to that wretch of a sister Petunia. Although, oddly, he was not entirely without sympathy for the woman – she'd had to deal with the terror that was James Potter too, and that would make anyone except Lily it seemed a bit vengeful.

"Mister Potter," he spoke, dis-Disillusioning himself and stepping out into the light of a streetlamp. "running away, are you?"

The boy glanced up at him, angry, guilty, but mostly startled to see him there. "I'm not going back! I'm not. They're ruddy awful." A quick scan of the boy's surface memories confirmed his suspicions, and it angered him to see Lily called a bitch. "They kicked me out anyway. They don't want me back."

"Then do not, I could honestly care less what you do. However, I would be rather remiss as your professor if I were simply to allow a minor to run loose with nowhere to stay."

A look of slow dawning horror spread across the boy's features. Yes, yes, he could only imagine it now what was running through his head; 'Snape or the Dursleys? What a choice! Might as well choose between a pit full of Hagrid's pets and a room of Dementors!' Or did the boy even know what a Dementor was yet? It would kill him to open a book.

"Wipe that look off your mug, it isn't that insidious. You can't just live on the streets without supervision, no matter how much a gutter might suit you."

"No, not that- behind you!"

Snape whirled to see a snarling dog launch itself right at his face. Black, he inwardly cursed, of course he would never trust me alone with the boy. "Stupefy!"

The starved dog fell slack to the ground. Snape kept his wand pointed on it, thinking how so very easy it would be. No one would ever know.

Yet... he was not such a coward. Not anymore. And it would go counter to his goal. Of course the one thing he could give to the boy would be his godfather, the only thing he supposed would even be appreciated or of use. He hated to admit anything positive about the mangy mutt, but he was Lily's choice. If the boy's life was to be short lived, well, he knew she would have at least wanted Sirius Black to raise him.

As much as he utterly despised the idea.

"Now you see why it is not safe," Snape said curtly. "so make your choice."

He would simply deal with the rat and the mutt later. For now... he supposed he hoped very much that Potter would say no despite how much that ran counter to his plans. The boy drove him nuts.

"But you hate me," the boy said, rather confused.

"My feelings are irrelevant; I have a duty, Potter. I know the idea of following rules is foreign to you, but not all of us are incapable of it."

The boy gave him a glare. "I suppose you couldn't be any worse. I said I'm not going back, and I'm not."

Not any worse? Now he was simply insulted. One would think his work at intimidation was all for nothing. Still, he was pretty surprised a Potter would want anything to do with him. "Very well. Would you prefer to apparate or to fly?"

"Apparate?" he said hesitantly. "I think we'd be spotted by muggles if we used a broom."

"I never said anything about a broom," he said in a carefully neutral tone. A small, petty portion of him was showing off now. He had never been the biggest fan of Quidditch, though he did support his Slytherins, but he happily felt a little smug that he could do something James Potter couldn't in the air.

In clear spite of himself, the boy's eyes lit up in fascination and awe, though he could see the other fighting it down to present a skeptical face. "You, we, us wizards can do that?" Eloquent as ever.

"Not many, Mister Potter. As always, I am rather more skilled than your average simpleton." Also, one would think after levitating a woman it would have occurred to Potter he could do the same to himself. Ah well.

Severus took Potter's hand, who accepted it with wariness in his eyes, though that soon changed.

Harry stared in wonder as their hair started to stand on end, his body became feather light, and their clothes lift up slightly like a wind was blowing up on it, making Snape's robes billow like they did when he stalked the dungeons. He gently pushed off from the ground, deciding for once that a less intimidating manner might be best when dropping the boy because he squirmed too much could mean his death.

They floated into the night, skin pale and silvery by moon and starlight.

HHHHHHHHPPPP

Harry hadn't been able to believe it when the very first person he'd met away from the Dursleys was Professor Snape looking to take him back. Talk about a day going from bad to worse. He couldn't really figure out why Snape was being so nice- well, so nice for Snape that is. The man's gaze still gave him the feeling the other thought he was a repulsive slug. But he'd given him a choice to leave, which made him very suspicious.

Before he'd really thought about it thoroughly, they were off, soaring. Soaring. That was still a bit hard to believe. He even recognized the route as a similar one to the one Uncle Vernon had took- no, the same one as the one Vernon had took to get to the hotel when he'd driven off away from the Hogwarts letters.

He bet he was being expelled, and Snape was gleefully taking him to have his wand snapped.

Or, no, except then Snape would have gloated about it already. Maybe the man didn't know yet. Maybe he was going to be chopped up for potions ingredients! On the other hand, he'd always dreamed of someone, anyone, taking him away from the Dursleys. He knew it couldn't possibly be permanent, but, there was no way he was going back today after what he did, Vernon would kill him. If it came down to it, he'd simply have to escape from the Potion's Master.

They landed. It was best safe rather than sorry. He excused himself for a minute and quickly wrote a note for Hedwig to give to Ron, and another for Hermione. 'Blew up Aunt like balloon, Snape of all people happened to be nearby. Rabid dog attacked us, not hurt. Am going with him, hopefully see you soon.'

Of course, if Snape decides he really wants to kill me, he can probably do in Hedwig here quite easily.

"Are you done?"

"Yes." He sent Hedwig off. "Am I in trouble?"

"The Ministry will take care of your muggle problem, do not worry." He made it sound like an infestation; Harry got the mental image of tiny Dursleys scuttling around the floor boards, eating cheese and bread crumbs, squeaking, and hid a laugh.

"But aren't I going to be expelled?"

"Unfortunately, I rather doubt it. Currently I imagine the ministry is losing its head in worry and fear over your disappearance."

"What?!" Harry was taken back. Maybe I should have run away the time Dobby dumped that cake! Or, has he- no, he wouldn't let me send off a letter and then kill me, he's not that stupid. Does he even realize how much he sounds like an evil villain though? Even when he's saying something benign it sounds like an evil monologue... yes Snape, shockingly, I know what a monologue is, I'm not completely ignorant. He thought the last in paranoia as he had a sneaking suspicion Snape could read his mind somehow. Snape didn't seem to react though.

"They will be lenient for a simple reason. There is a murderer on the loose Mister Potter, a prisoner of Azkaban named Sirius Black. I suggest you read a newspaper, or even simply open one," came the pithy response.

"Do you have one?" He decided he'd rather not get Snape's version of the truth, it'd be much less grating to just read it. A murderer, that explained everything. Dumbledore must have made sure he had protection. Harry simply wished it could have been Hagrid, but he supposed the wandless man wouldn't have been much protection against a properly trained wizard.

"Yes." The older man opened the door to one of the terrace houses, which looked nothing like the dungeon or mansion he'd personally imagined the man to live in. Rows of bookshelves covered every possible wall of the house, the furniture was ratty and bare, and dimly candle-lit. "I... do not often receive visitors. I prefer to spend my time at Hogwarts, but it is not currently open. My abode may not look like much, but my library is quite extensive and far more valuable than shiny drapery; do not touch anything without my permission, I have not child-proofed my selection."

This really was his home?

"Do not gape, it is rude."

"Sorry," he almost didn't apologize, annoyed as he was at Snape's constant harking on him, but he did. The place was fairly tidy, but there was, for some reason, the Daily Prophet crumpled up on the desk, which he took and stuffed in a pocket. "Am I really staying here?" He was still in disbelief over that.

"You are free to return home if it is not extravagant enough for you."

"No! No, it's okay. Where do I sleep?"

"The second bedroom. It has a child's bed that should suit you." Child's? A kid used to live here? I can't imagine Snape ever getting married... but then again I don't know very much about him, maybe he used to be a father. Now that's a scary mental image.

"Okay." He took his trunk to it, looking around. It was sparse, boring, toyless... exactly what he'd imagine Snape would give any offspring of his, actually. He felt sorry for them, where ever they were. Or maybe Snape had went out and gotten a bed for him, but that was even harder to believe!

"Have you eaten dinner, Potter?"

"Uh, I'm not hungry." He was too overwhelmed for hunger.

There was a silence, both looking at each other and having nothing to say. Snape turned away before it went on so long as to be awkward. "Night, then, try not to destroy anything. I will be reading."

"Um, night."

...he had yet to really decide if Snape or the Dursleys were friendlier. Snape hadn't shoved him in a cupboard, and had checked if he had eaten, so it looked like Snape was winning by a point.

Which was just sad, really, that the mark of success was so low. Well, he was sure Snape would have the chance to be horrible to him tomorrow. He unwrinkled the newspaper and flopped himself on the bed to read.

SSSSSS

Severus paced, inwardly quite worried. He'd actually done it. He'd changed history. A small, inconsequential change at the moment, but change nonetheless.

The mutt he'd stunned should be alright. The rat would appear in Hogwarts, on schedule, and there would be plenty of opportunities to deal with the rodent; assuming he had not somehow caused time to change so much the rodent never arrived. After the little bastard Pettigrew was caught, the boy would have his godfather, and Voldemort would be forced to find another servant to help him rise, possibly delaying him by several years. There would be plenty of time to go after the horcruxes. Maybe even find a way to remove the one from Potter without killing the child.

But would it be enough?

If Potter was really the one who had to kill Voldemort, then the boy would need a massive attitude change. The boy was woefully unprepared last time, and had stood no chance of winning a straight fair duel one on one with a competent adult wizard.

Although, who said Voldemort had to be killed? It would be just as sweet a revenge to lock the wizard away to rot for all eternity wandless in a coffin somewhere.

He glanced out the window. Morning. He hadn't been able to sleep the entire night. Such was not the first time.

The door of the second bedroom creaked open, and Potter slipped out and headed towards the kitchen. Snape heard, rather than saw him,begin to cook breakfast. He was still lost in thought several minutes later when the boy startled him by presenting a plate of waffles.

"Breakfast, Professor?"

"Thank you, Potter." He wondered if this was some attempt to butter him up. "That was not necessary. I can cook."

"I know, sir." the boy flushed. "I wasn't- I wasn't trying to insult you. I just wanted to know if you wanted some."

Oh.

Suddenly, he felt rather foolish. It was all too easy for him to forget there was actually anything of Lily in Harry, and it always made him uncomfortable and miserable when he did see it. But he kept his composure, and tried the food. "They are satisfactory. I expect at least such a standard from your potions work. Speaking of," he changed the subject to something more comfortable. "have you finished your summer work?"

"No, um, I was just going to go do that." The boy quickly backtracked and shuffled out of the room, almost fleeing from the conversation into his bedroom and closing the door. Before he did close it, though, he said rapidly, "have-a-good-breakfast!"

Snape rolled his eyes. Potter was right to be so suspicious. Severus fully intended to assign him more work. Only, this work would potentially save his life. He re-opened the door. "How far are you from done?"

"Not too far, I haven't been slacking," the young wizard went into preemptive defense.

"I'm sure," he drawled. "well then, you may finish that later. How much did that lout Lockhart teach you?"

"Um, not very much, sir." Potter seemed to judge it safe to say this opinion, knowing Snape did not approve of the man's teaching much either.

"That will not do. You have a man trying to murder you and you know nothing about defense."

The other was offended. "I know some things about defense, I fought off a basilisk and Voldemort. I know Expelliarmus, Locomotor Mortis, Petrificus Totalus and Rictusempra."

"You defeated the Dark Lord by sheer dumb luck," Severus sneered. "Hardly something you should depend on." Though, the world certainly knew it paid off for the boy again and again. "Your defensive and offensive spells are severely lacking. We will begin with the core spell for most duels; Stupefy. It renders the subject unconscious, and therefore is more useful than a mere binding spell."

"Hey, you used that on that dog!" Harry realized.

"Yes, yes I did. Other spells you must learn are the shield charm Protego, Accio the basic summoning charm, Episkey the basic healing charm although healing potions are superior, and common offensive spells that deal more damage than tickling. And of course, you must gain familiarity with the Unforgiveables, though naturally I do not expect a third year to cast them. I have little expectation of being able to make up for two years of terrible schooling in such a short time, but I can at least set you on the right track. In the mean time, if someone or something tries to kill you, I sincerely hope you will run rather than try to jab a sword up its mouth or duel it."

Potter stared at the floor at that. "Unforgive-whats?"

"Unforgiveables. I suppose I shall cover them first then." The ignorance. It burned. One would think the boy would have more interest in the dark lord's attempts to kill him! It was like there was no sense of self preservation in there whatsoever. "The Killing Curse, incantation Avada Kedavra was used by the dark lord to try to kill you; it is a fast green light and there is no magical shield against it, it simply drops dead whoever it touches. The other two are the torture curse, Crucio and the control curse, Imperio. They were the favored spells of the Death Eaters."

"The whats?"

Good Merlin, did this child know anything? "The Dark Lord's closest followers." He was beginning to feel a little exasperated, and couldn't help but remember that teaching had not been his first choice for a profession. He didn't have the patience, not for social matters, though give him a potion and he could be very happily patient indeed. "They wear the Dark Mark." He debated showing it, but, first he decided he'd have to teach the child occlumency. Which was going to be a chore, he could tell, having never managed it when the boy was older and theoretically far more mature.

"Oh."

'Oh', so erudite, this one. Well, he'd chosen this torture for himself, hadn't he? "Let's begin with a practical demonstration. Try to hit me. Protego!"

"Won't I get in trouble for casting magic?"

"No. The Trace will assume I am the caster, as you are in the residence of an adult wizard. As well, you are in the presence of a teacher; many wizards and witches who do not go to Hogwarts learn from a certified tutor instead. Do not think this means I approve of breaking the rules or making exceptions for you, Mr. Potter."

"Expelliarmus!" Potter shouted, and the spell hit his shield.

In short order, Potter's own wand went flying out of his hand. He picked it up and this process repeated, though he dodged most of the next spells. The fact all of them reflected with no absorption told Severus that his spells were weak, but that was to be expected at his age. Unfortunately, the boy would have to go beyond his age.

The boy had mastered spells well above his year before, though technically that was still in the future. He wouldn't tell him that the shield charm was something some adults struggled with, although that at least partially was because he had no good opinion of such adults. The common bumpkin was no standard to hold oneself to.

More important than the spells themselves, though, would be if he could instill any sense in the boy that self training was needed. He was well aware of the boy's little teaching class in the last time-line, but it had been, in his opinion, woefully unambitious; the boy had been teaching others, not himself, and the others had held him up like some kind of expert.

And yet despite this so called expert teaching, he had come out of it so woefully, woefully ignorant. Not a single nonverbal spell. No occlumency. He knew the boy thought he falsely slandered him for attitude, but Snape saw quite clearly there was more of James Potter in him than just looks. True, many times he had given the first insult, the first shot, and in many ways treated him unfairly, but, he had a position to maintain that depended at least in part to catering to little Slytherin snots, and a lesson to give about the real world that his students simply would not learn if all their teachers pretended the world was roses. He wondered if Granger had yet grasped that sometimes it was better to hide your knowledge rather than show it off, and that class was first for those who had something to learn, not for those who already knew it all.

"Now, you try the shield, using the same wand movement as I did."

They practiced throughout the day, until lunch. At which point, Severus switched to a different spell, though the boy had not yet accomplished the first. "Accio," this spell the boy had been quite good at before, but that meant nothing this time. "an extremely advanced user could use this to summon their own wand to them, but I would not count on it, especially at your level. I am quite good at wandless conjuring and counter-jinxing, which is also a useful skill, but those are definitely above your mastery at this time."

It surprised him to see that Harry Potter had no talent for the spell whatsoever; he had thought it was something the other had a natural talent in from the way it had been used in the first task, but it seemed he was wrong. The spell would only be learned with hard practice. Which the boy would have plenty of, he would assure it.

He could see frustration growing, as he switched from spell to spell, and the practice bore so little fruit. But there was never any complaint except silent grudging looks, and the hours melted away with neither of them really conscious of it.

Snape was heading off to bed before he realized they had both skipped dinner again. At last, extreme exhaustion allowed him a dreamless sleep.

HHHHHHHHPPPP

Harry woke up tired, and went to sleep tired. He slept and breathed spells and potions work.

That was the pattern for the next week. He managed to earn a respite on the weekend by begging to do his homework. Begging. He had no idea Snape was such a slave driver, and he was finding himself baffled how he had ended up here in this situation. Actually, just kidding, he totally had suspected Snape was a slave driver. It was just like the bat to want to turn the summer break into nothing but work.

Snape strolled in, picked up an essay without asking, scanned it and put it back. "Too vague on line three and ten, do over."

That was typical Snape. He'd found all his work done in a Ron-like style had to be redone. And it felt like almost nothing pleased the man, either. Harry was beginning to feel very frazzled and in need of a break. Or an extra nap.

Or a break and nap.

It was far more attention than any adult had ever paid to him, and it was overwhelming; on one hand, it wasn't negative attention, as Snape had bizarrely ceased the endless 'Impertinent brat!' style insults, but all that meant was that it was all rather like doing a chore for Petunia, where Harry-bot did as someone else desired 'for his own good', again.

He took it back. Snape wasn't leading by a point anymore, he was worse than the Dursleys. The Dursleys mostly left him alone these days.

Except... well, for the insult to his parents last time. That lost them points. But Snape would probably agree with the sentiment, if not the swear, as he'd never known the man to swear or tolerate swearing from the students. So Snape was just as bad.

Harry finally had enough, and stopped the man from leaving through the door. "You know it's vacation time, right?"

Snape frowned. "Yes. I am not unaware this is a time often used on frivolous pursuits."

Frivolous. Did the professor never do anything but work? "Well, I'm taking a break, I'm worn out. I want to have fun. May I go to Diagon Alley?"

"Fun," repeated Snape, as if it was a foreign word, and it did seem to have confused him. "I suppose I could supervise such an excursion. And it is unlikely Black would attack in daylight."

"Black? Why would he attack me?"

Snape proceeded to give him one of those condescending, flabbergasted 'looks' Harry knew so well with an arched brow. "Do you not remember me saying a man was out to kill you?"

"I assumed you meant Voldemort."

"Do not say that name. Refer to him as the Dark Lord whilst in my company."

Company was a bit of an exaggeration, wasn't it? "Dark Lord, fine."

"Black is believed to be the death eater who betrayed the location of your parents."

What? Raged shock filled Harry. "Someone betrayed my parents? It... it wasn't just Voldemort's doing?"

"Your parents hid themselves and gave their secret to a keeper. He is suspected to have been that keeper. That makes it highly likely his escape is due to him being out to finish the job. However;" he paused, being careful about how he related all this information. "the man was never given a trial. Irregardless of his innocence though, you have far too many enemies."

Well, that they both could agree on. He still didn't want to be watched by Snape of all people though. "Okay, let's go. I don't suppose you could teach me to fly?" Harry said hopefully.

"Doubtful; it is not a common skill and you have mastered no nonverbal magic casting. For now you will just have to settle for your broom."

Harry pouted, though he had never ever thought he'd ever be disappointed to fly with a broom. He was beginning to grudgingly appreciate that, if nothing else, Professor Snape was a very skilled wizard who knew what he talked about and did deserve to teach the Defense against the Dark Arts class far more than any of the other teachers had (although that by itself did not say much). He brightened quickly, just glad that, even if Snape had no idea what fun was that he had agreed to it at all. "Okay, let's go," he repeated himself over-eagerly.

When they arrived, by apparition this time, there was an immediate ruckus. Spells shot out at Professor Snape, who shielded and neatly avoided them. The Ministry swarmed the alley.

"Woah, wait, wait, what's going on?" Harry squeaked, his arm suddenly grabbed by a strange, slightly tubby man.

"Are you alright Harry? Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, at your service. You haven't been harmed at all, have you?"

"That's my teacher, leave him alone! I'm fine!" He couldn't believe he was defending Snape, but he was. He couldn't just let his professor go to jail, not when Harry was the one who broke the law.

"Your... teacher? Oh, I see! Professor Snape, isn't it? So sorry for the confusion! Leave off, aurors!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape sneered.

"So sorry, we simply thought Potter had been kidnapped by Black. You wouldn't be him in polyjuice, would you?"

"No," came the scathing retort. "if I was, wouldn't I also polyjuice Potter?"

"Good point, good point, can never be too careful you know," the minister ho-hummed.

"I ran away from my guardians and my professor picked me up off the street after a dog attacked. He's been catching me up on some lessons, particularly defense, he said it wasn't safe." Harry said truthfully, still surprised to find himself sticking up for Snape. "I am sure my guardians don't mind, they wanted me out of the house anyway."

"Now now, Harry, you should know better than to run away. He's quite right about it not being safe." Then his eyes narrowed. "But Snape, aren't you... you know, a death-"

Death what? Death Eater?

"I work for the Light. That was proven at my trial. Potter, why don't you go purchase your school things, I will chat with the minister here."

"Um, alright..." he had wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation, so it was with disappointment he slipped away. He was certain Fudge had just called Snape a Death Eater. Why would a follower of Voldemort's help him? Why would Snape care anything about him learning to defend himself? Why would Snape care about anything involving him at all?! Was Snape actually really in league with Voldemort then? But why protect him and tell him all that information? Why go through all that effort to get his trust if just to kill him? Why let Hedwig carry off the letter? It was not like Harry hadn't been completely at his mercy and couldn't have had his throat slit at any time without anyone being the wiser.

It made no sense. The potions master was a walking contradiction, concerned one moment and repulsed by him the next. He was no longer so certain as he was that Snape really hated him. The man had saved his life from Quirrel, and had now taken him in. Why?

Harry was soon distracted by the sight of the Weasleys shopping, and joyfully ran over. "Ron, Ron!"

"Harry?" Ron grinned. "Bloody hell mate, you alright? That letter about Snape was a joke, right?"

"No joke."

"Merlin's beard! What'd he do to you and how'd you escape?"

"It wasn't that bad. He let me go."

"Did he make you do nonstop potions lessons?"

"Pretty much, yeah." They both shuddered in horror.

"Sucks to be you! So you got no vacation time whatsoever?"

"Well, my normal time with the Dursleys is hardly a holiday either. You know I prefer being at Hogwarts to anything else."

"Yeah. You going to check into the Leaky Cauldron?"

Harry paused, thinking. "Maybe."

"Harry, you can't be honestly thinking of staying with Snape. That's lunatic talk."

"His lessons have actually been pretty useful. I got to practice magic; he says the law doesn't count if you are with a teacher, which is why we can go wave wands at Hogwarts."

"He probably said that because he wants to get you into trouble."

"In that case I was already in trouble; I blew up my aunt remember? She was really awful, insulting my parents."

Ron nodded his head. "Oh, yeah, I remember! Wicked. I'd never get away with blowing up any of my relatives. Then again, Fred and George get away with quite a lot, maybe I could."

"Your relatives aren't awful fat cows."

"No, but Fred and George are minks." He stuck his tongue out.

"I was actually a little kind of hoping you'd go with me, so I wouldn't be alone with him. He has no sense of humor or fun whatsoever."

Ron looked absolutely horrified. "Are you joking? Please say you're joking! I'm not volunteering to do extra schoolwork during the holidays! Especially not with our least favorite professor? Have you gone bonkers? No, have you turned into Hermione?"

"Oh, yes, speaking of I got her letter. She says she's jealous, but worried. You know, I bet she'd come in a heartbeat. I'll ask her."

At the thought of both of his best friends going off to do something without him and being left out, Ron caved, as Harry suspected he would. "Okay, okay. If you're both going I will too. I still think you all are absolutely nuts, though. Bloody Snape," he grumbled under his breath. "I'll ask my parents. Bloody bonkers this is, I can't believe it. We'll all be butchered for Potion's ingredients, mark my words."

Harry really hoped not.

SSSSSSS

The rest of the day went without incident, and Severus was relieved to have settled things with the ministry of magic so easily. He retired to reading and doing some preparatory work for his lessons this school year, then went to bed. He did remember to get them both dinner this time, although it was nothing special, just whatever he happened to have in the pantry which was pasta.

The next morning there was a knock on his door. Warily, he opened it, wand at the ready.

Ron Weasley stared up at him, looking a tad terrified in the cold. The gloomy overcast sky had clearly rained on him, as his orange hair was damp and his face glistened wet.

"Mr. Weasley, what are you doing at my house?" he snapped. "This is not a party house, return from whence you came foul creature."

"I ran away from home. You have to take me in, just like Harry."

Oh good grief. Snape face-palmed. "Last I checked, your parents love you and a mass murderer isn't after you."

"But, uh, there IS a mass murderer after me you see, I'm a friend of Harry and it was my photo in the paper that sent Black off the deep end. And my parents, as you are so fond of saying, have so many children, what's one missing really?" he lampooned himself.

The boy had a point.

"I also blew up my uncle," Ron added. "but I can go back and jinx him into being my aunt if that's a requirement."

"Fine," he growled. "Come in."

"Yay me," he heard the young Weasley whisper under his breath with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as they entered.

Fifteen minutes later, there was another knock. With a distinct feeling of dread, he opened it up. It was a grinning young Hermione Granger.

They're multiplying, he thought in absolute horror. He was going to be infested to the ceiling by sundown. It was like something out of a nightmare, little abominations invading his house that could not be killed or banished. Like Lovecraftians horrors they were going to destroy his mind with their incomprehensibility.

"Hello Professor! I've run away from home and you must take me in, just like Harry."

Snape resisted a scream. She took his strangled, horrified silence as a welcome and walked right in.

Author Notes:

*Timetravel using Hallows is purely Fanon silliness on my part, so excuse the ridiculous initial premise of the story. I just can't help but think if -Snape- ever learned about such a ridiculous thing he'd jump on it immediately and try to save Lily, and barring that, Harry. His loyalty is not to Dumbledore first, after all.

- Wandless magic is canon, by the way, if I remember correctly. Just not to the absurd extremes shown in fanon. According to canon, Snape is a freaking bad ass dude.

The only character I am not going to try to write canonly is Ron, because I don't remember what he was like that well beyond the jealousy issue, and he seemed inconsistent (his maturity level was all over the place and nonsensical) and a victim of plot-required idiot ball holding from what I remember. Rather, I am going to try to write the impression I had of the Ron that J.K wanted to write, which is a far more likeable character than the one I remember her actually writing. I might also do the same to Voldemort, as he also held the idiot ball more often than necessary a lot.

Anyway, I just about never finish my fics, this may just be a humorous one-shot, (you have been warned) but I hope that I have written a very canon Snape here that provides the reader some reflection and enjoyment independent of the rest of the story.

Snape not caring for Harry, only Lily, is very canon, J.K says so; although I do think the Lily-moments Harry has did contribute him to feeling horror. Him carrying on to help defeat Voldemort even after his primary reason for going on is also canon; he thinks Harry is going to die but he's still against Voldemort. I interpret this as character growth, that he is no longer the dumb teenager seeking approval but someone who genuinely realizes Voldemort needs to die.

I know a lot of you hate Snape because he hates Harry, but, meh, it's really hard to get over psychological issues when you are alone, alienated, and everyone's response to your pain is simply to 'Get over it, so they bullied you, big deal, that was years ago'. Actually, that kind of response makes things worse than no response at all. Perhaps I misinterpreted/misremembered canon, but I just can't remember any apologies ever, ever being made to Snape.

And that kind of thing, being expected to just move on and even work right alongside two of your abusers? It really messes you up.

But the thing is? I think Snape at the end was getting over it; he just died before that character development could really be explored. He went from unable to show Harry any memories to willingly showing him his worst. He didn't have to tell Harry anything beyond the horcrux thing. It's very easy (though it could be wrong, who the hell knows) to view the final act as apologetic, as a 'here is why I did everything I did, including the stuff you hated'. That's at least an unconscious recognition of wrongdoing, but I think it was conscious regret. And that's more apology than Snape ever got (or equal, it is very hard to tell, that aspect of the books was not well-written; Sirius Black at least seemed totally unapologetic).

I think at the end he wanted to be the better man.

But I could just be wrong.

Of course, none of this stops me from tormenting him with his other worst nightmare, preteens.