Chapter Four of 'Anularius'- A Bargain Piece-By-Piece

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Three.

Title: Anularius (4/16)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Warnings: Angst, time travel
Rating: R
Summary: Traveling back in time is safe. All you have to do is keep away from people who affect time, who are pretty rare. It's just Horcrux-collecting Harry Potter's luck that Severus Snape is one of them.
Author's Notes: A late Advent fic for thebookivore, who gave me this prompt: Harry/Snape. Time travelling Harry. As an unspeakable explains to Harry, time travel is actually very safe, because most people cannot affect the time stream except a rare few. You can tell who can affect time because they can see time travelers, otherwise "it's similar to how most Muggles cannot see magic, their minds naturally shy away from it and come up with the most incredible explanations for what they have seen". Harry knows to hide out from himself but doesn't realize that Snape can see him ...

I meant to complete this fic on time for Advent, but it got too long for me to finish on time, so I’m posting it as a chaptered story. The title is Latin for “maker of rings.”

Chapter One.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Four-A Bargain Piece-By-Piece

“I want to know how you grew up the way you did.”

That question threw Harry for a loop. He had expected Snape to ask about Dumbledore, after what he had said about being eager to hear about him. He blinked and leaned against the table. “What?”

“You are refusing to answer the question?” Snape’s voice had gone soft again, but instead of signaling an insult the way it would in the classroom, Harry thought this was just a prelude to a challenge. And indeed, Snape’s hand was already straying to his own wand.

“Merlin. No.” Harry sighed and dropped his head forwards, rubbing hard in the middle of his brow with one hand. He wished Hermione had been the one able to sense a Horcrux and come back. Maybe, if they’d waited long enough, she could have invented a method. “I just don’t understand it.”

“A not uncommon problem, it seems,” said Snape, but when Harry looked up, ready to glare, Snape was smiling at him. The sight was so bizarre that Harry had hardly recovered before Snape launched into an explanation. “You seem to be war-hardened. More than your training as an Auror. It’s in the way you look around a room, the way you check behind you for threats, and the way you always notice where my wand is and what it’s doing.”

Harry blinked. “That really has nothing to do with the way I grew up. That’s the war and Death Eaters. I can tell you-”

“Do not give me a load of bollocks.” Snape sounded serious enough that Harry was able to control the urge to laugh hysterically at the word he’d used. “Those reflexes are years ingrained. Your childhood must have given them to you.”

“The war was my childhood,” said Harry quietly. “Or it ate it, I don’t know which. I was facing Voldemort from the time I was eleven years old.”

Snape tensed up so hard that it looked as though he was going to break. “That is impossible,” he whispered. “He could not have come back.”

“He sort of possessed someone,” said Harry. “I mean, he couldn’t really. His spirit was too broken. But a piece of his spirit was there.” He gave the bowl on the table a significant glance, and Snape followed his gaze.

“This, then, contains a part of his spirit, too?” Snape’s voice was so low that it was difficult for Harry to make out the exact words. But the way his hand went out to caress the side of the bowl said what he meant.

Harry opened his mouth to confirm that, and then frowned and closed it again. It was occurring to him that he’d given away a lot of answers to a lot of questions, and Snape hadn’t told him one thing worth having yet. “My turn. Do you know a way to cast and safely control Fiendfyre?”

Snape looked as though Harry had smacked him across the face. “You intended to use that on the bowl?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and shrugged when Snape glared at him. “It’s the best thing to do. But I only saw someone use it once, and it completely destroyed the room it was burning in. All I could do was flee from it. So, do you know a way to control it? I reckon there must be a way to put Fiendfyre out, or no one would ever use it at all.”

“No one sane uses it,” Snape said, and then took a deep breath and nodded. “I know a way to surround it with walls of a magical ice that will melt when the fire touches them and put it out. But they need to be very powerfully magical. You know ordinary water has no effect on Fiendfyre.”

“Great,” said Harry, pleased that one problem he had thought he’d have to research was solved. “What’s the incantation?”

Snape gave him another smile and answered with a question the way Harry had. “What do you mean when you say that you had to fight the Dark Lord?” His voice sank a little, as if even speaking Voldemort’s title pissed him off. “Why was Dumbledore or the Order of the Phoenix not somewhere on the front lines against him?”

Harry had to grin a little, as he realized that this time he was telling Snape nothing he didn’t already know. “That prophecy you overheard part of.”

Snape shivered and snapped up as though he was going to breathe fire, and Harry felt a little bad for the flippant tone he’d spoken that information in. But only a little. He was getting used to the fact that the past was the past, but this was still the same man who’d been spying for Voldemort at the time. And he had got Harry’s parents killed.

Harry wouldn’t exactly carry a grudge, but he saw no reason to make it really easy for Snape either.

“The prophecy was real, then,” Snape whispered. “And it meant that you had to face him alone?”

Having him think that was preferable to him knowing all the details. On the other hand, Harry didn’t think he was good enough a liar to pull off the claim of complete solitude. He hesitated instead, then shook his head. “I had lots of help. But usually when I was facing him, I was alone in some way.”

Snape was staring at him in shock. “I’m amazed you survived.”

“So am I, sometimes,” Harry agreed. “The incantation?” They would have to find some place other than Number Twelve to cast the spells, of course; Harry didn’t want to cause damaged carpets that would have no explanation in the future, although he supposed it was possible Kreacher might clean them up between now and then.

“Yes, of course,” Snape muttered, still with a preoccupied look on his face. “It’s Aqua et ignis.”

There was a sudden wavering in the air around them, and walls of blue ice reared up, as high as the walls, soaking the carpets. Harry whipped out his wand and snapped, “Finite Incantatem!” The ice was gone in a second, before it could do any more damage, and Harry shot Snape a dark look as he cleaned up some of the stains with efficient motions of his wand. The spell was really meant for use on blood or some of the similar liquids that flowed in the veins of the magical horrors Dark wizards bred, but it worked equally well here. “Idiot.”

Snape would ordinarily have flared up at the insult. In fact, Harry found it harder to imagine a version of Severus Snape that wouldn’t than Snape seemed to have found it to imagine his survival.

But Snape only looked at him as if in a dream and asked, “What role did I have in the war?”

Harry swallowed, thought about protesting that once again he had answered a couple of Snape’s questions before he asked for the incantation, and then said, “You were a spy for Dumbledore. You saved me and protected me, several times. And Dumbledore entrusted you with information that he wouldn’t have given anyone else.”

“I did it for him?” Snape looked a little stupefied. “Not for Lily?”

“That’s a question I don’t know the answer to,” Harry reminded him. “And I want to know what the wand movements for the water spell were.”

“You didn’t see me cast it?” Snape was focused on him again, but even more unnervingly this time, his eyes fastened to Harry’s face as if he thought the person he was building Harry up in his head to be would never have missed something so simple.

“One I do know,” Harry said. “No. And stop unbalancing the game. That’s four questions you’ve asked me to my one.”

Snape opened his mouth as if he would dispute the maths, then shrugged and moved his hand in slow, regular motions through the pattern of the casting. Harry watched him closely, and nodded when he thought he had it right. He was tremendously relieved that Snape hadn’t spoken the incantation again, at least.

“Okay,” Harry said. “Now, I want to know why you’re so insistent on possessing Parseltongue for yourself.” Technically he had most of the information he wanted now that he knew how to keep some Fiendfyre from spreading, but he was curious about other things, and Merlin knew Snape wouldn’t stop asking questions, so Harry might as well use his remaining queries to his advantage.

“How can you ask?” Snape made a gesture with one hand that Harry supposed was meant to be eloquent, but he certainly didn’t pick up on the meaning.

“Five questions,” Harry said. “Gryffindor, remember? And it got me laughed at in the corridors and people whispered that I was-evil.” No need to tell Snape specifically about the Heir of Slytherin business. “Now, did you really just want to be the next evil incarnation of blood purity, or what?” That would be a laugh, now he knew Snape was a half-blood.

“No,” said Snape, and his face became haughty and austere, as though Harry had accused him of some sexual sin. “Of course not.” He looked at the bowl, his gaze distant again, although Harry thought that at least this time he was seeing something connected with it and not something that had more to do with Harry himself.

“I wanted to be in possession of secrets that no one else had,” Snape whispered. “Once, I wanted to possess other things. Like Lily’s friendship, for example.” He glanced at Harry, who had winced despite himself at the mention of his mother’s name. “I know you might not think it, because of what happened to her, but we were friends. Once.”

Harry just nodded. No need to tell Snape he had already known that, or exactly how he knew.

“But that possession passed from me,” Snape whispered. “Then I wanted grace and superiority that no one else had, and I thought rising high in the Dark Lord’s service would gain me that.” He touched his left forearm and swallowed. “Then I treasured Potions secrets, potions that I would be the only one to know how to brew. But I quickly learned that that knowledge came to me too easily, and I was bored by it.” He shrugged a little. “Parseltongue is so rare that learning the secret of it would guarantee me entrance to an exclusive club.”

“Huh,” said Harry, not sure whether he should be amused or revolted. It was a very Slytherin motivation, he had to admit that.

Then again, he had wanted some Slytherin things in his time, hadn’t he? At one time, even the wish that Dudley and his gang would leave him alone had seemed like a rare and impossible ambition.

Harry shook away that vision and muttered, “Fine. But-”

“Then I met you,” Snape said, and his gaze snapped back from that distance and focused on Harry in a really extraordinarily creepy way. “And I realized there were more Parselmouths around than I thought.” He stepped closer to Harry, staring at him.

Harry thought about reaching for his wand, but he supposed Snape still counted, right now, as his ally. He fumbled around for his voice, though, and found it. “I think that’s close enough, Snape.”

Snape paused, then said in a low voice, “Whatever betrayals I may have committed in the future, I haven’t done them now.” And his hand closed the distance between them and rested against Harry’s face for a moment. Harry jumped in spite of himself. He hadn’t really felt Snape’s hands often, mostly just when Snape grabbed at his shoulder to turn him around and march him to detention or something. But he had thought, or would have if he had ever turned his thoughts to the matter, that they would be cold.

Snape’s hand burned as though he was sick.

That’s it, of course, Harry thought a second later, relieved beyond measure. He has a fever. It isn’t fair to question him like this when he’s sick. He opened his mouth to tell Snape that they could go on later, when he was well.

But Snape said only, “I wonder. Is it the eyes? Them plus the Parseltongue? The knowledge that you’re a time traveler, and can tell me that the world survived at least that long even with the Dark Lord’s return?” He took another step nearer. “The knowledge I can read in your reflexes that you survived an incredibly hard childhood? I would have sworn that no one’s childhood was harder than mine.” He sounded soft, absorbed. “I was fascinated with Lily, but I envied her. Her parents were kind to her, and loved her. That is something I never had.”

“Snape-”

“This is probably a bad idea,” Snape said, and except for the way his tone was so conversational and his eyes were fixed like a fanatic’s on Harry’s face, Harry actually would have said he was talking to himself. “But, on the other hand, if it goes wrong, you will not be in this time permanently. And I can remove the memories and store them in a Pensieve. And I meant what I said about wanting to have things no one else has had. At least, no one else in this time.”

“Are you feverish, or just deranged?” Harry demanded, a little aghast. It sounded as though Snape was plotting to kill him and hide the body. “Do you know what damage you could do to the timeline, you git-”

Snape kissed him.

At least, Harry supposed it had to be called that. It wasn’t really like any other kiss he’d had. Snape didn’t brush or lean in and stick his tongue out. He just pressed, and then stepped back and looked at Harry thoughtfully, as though he’d had to taste some Potions ingredient to make sure it was doing as it was supposed to.

“You are deranged,” said Harry, when he could get his breath back. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Well, as I explained a moment ago, I am not sure,” Snape admitted, with a detached calm that Harry found just as creepy as all his unexpected emotions and reactions. “I am attracted to you, and it could be for a number of reasons. It was distracting me, though. I decided to do something about it.”

Harry shook his head and shut his eyes as hard as he could. When he opened them again, then maybe this strange Snape would be gone.

But Snape was still standing there when Harry opened his eyes, and Harry couldn’t take his gaze from his. Snape was contemplating him with a long, patient glance that saw too bloody much, in Harry’s opinion. He reached out and slowly slid his thin hand up Harry’s cheek, and Harry, paralyzed by those eyes, didn’t even see the touch coming until it was too late. Then he hunched his shoulders and ducked defensively, making Snape chuckle softly.

“No one has ever done that to you before?” Snape asked. He sounded pleased. At least he had taken his stupid hand back.

“I’ve been kissed plenty of times before,” said Harry, and his tongue ran away with him before he could stop himself. At least he had the incantation he needed to destroy the bowl now, and if he and Snape were to duel, he was sure he could beat him. He nearly had before, when he didn’t even have his wand in hand. “But by women, and not by people who weren’t in love with my mum and hated my dad!”

Snape blinked for a moment. “I’m not sure that I was ever in love with Lily, you know,” he said. “I was too wrapped up in her. I thought about what she meant to me. I contemplated her future and talents. But it’s not the sort of love that I could recognize in others.” He paused, and his jaw at least clenched, which meant, as far as Harry was concerned, that something was normal around here. “Even the love that your father bore her…as hard as it is for me to admit that.”

“Look,” Harry snapped, “I didn’t come here to play your therapist.”

“Really?” Snape moved a stalking step closer. “What about lover, then?”

Harry felt as though someone had dipped him in ice water. By the time he could get his tongue unstuck from the extreme shock and respond, Snape was already chuckling softly to himself.

“It was worth watching your face to say that,” said Snape.

Harry shut his eyes and closed his hand on his wand. “Look, I don’t want to ask you any more questions,” he said. “I’ve got what I came for. Why don’t you ask me what you want to, and we’ll say that this is over, and you can do what you need to do with the bowl, and I’ll take it the instant you’re done?” As far as he was concerned, that was the fairest distribution, and he would be done with Snape as well as the Horcrux after that.

Hermione had told him that she thought he could return home the minute he had destroyed the Horcrux. It was for the best, because that way he wouldn’t come in sight of someone who could recognize him and alter the timeline.

“I have a lot more questions, though,” said Snape pensively, and Harry opened his eyes and tensed again as Snape stepped up to him. “Such as why you were the one chosen to come back and hunt this, when you’d already done your part in the war, and you must have fulfilled the prophecy.”

“Because I’m the one who has the most experience with Voldemort’s artifacts,” said Harry promptly. He thought he had already given more than enough information about this, but if Snape wanted to ask about that and not about more personal and bloody stupid things, then Harry was all for it. “I went on a hunt for them. I personally destroyed one when I was at Hogwarts.” Best not to say “second year,” lest even that give Snape too much information. “I should recognize one when I find it.”

Snape nodded while barely moving his head. “And you will leave the instant you destroy the bowl.”

“That’s right,” Harry said. “There’s no reason for me to stay.”

Snape sucked in a deep, harsh breath and moved his hand restlessly. Harry winced. “See why you shouldn’t have kissed me?” he muttered, hoping he could turn this into a joke and ease the situation that way, by making Snape angry if he couldn’t make him laugh. “It always leads to regrets in the morning.”

“The regrets that I may have are not the kind you think they are,” Snape said, and gave him another searching look. “Why did you accept my help with this?”

“Because you had the bowl,” Harry said. “I did try to take it twice, remember.” It seemed to him that Snape was forgetting too quickly not only about what Harry’s dad had done to him in the past but also what Harry had done in the past, oh, two hours.

“Right, of course,” Snape said. His face was deep in contemplation. He nodded. “Can one teach Parseltongue? By magic or otherwise?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” said Harry. “The only other Parselmouths I ever heard of were Salazar Slytherin and Voldemort.” Snape flinched at the name, but minutely. Harry shrugged. “One of my friends managed to hiss a word in Parseltongue once, but it was only because he’d heard me doing it. It was imitation, not really learning it.”

“Even that might be useful.” Snape gave him a level look. “Teach me a word.”

Harry sighed. “This is getting further and further away from the bowl, remember? You wanted to research it and I wanted to destroy it.”

“Teach me what my name sounds like in Parseltongue,” said Snape. “It would be useful to know in case the Dark Lord ever hisses it at me.”

Harry sighed again. “As long as we can get back to the bowl.”

Snape nodded. His eyes were unmoving now, on Harry’s face as if Harry was the only one who could tell him his fate. Well, Harry supposed he was, but he had no intention of telling him, anyway. He knew what it was like to live with the notion that your life had a definite limit and due date. He didn’t want to inflict the experience on anyone else.

“Do you want your full name, or your last name, or what?” Harry asked, when a full minute had passed and Snape still seemed content to stand there and gaze at him.

“My full name,” said Snape, after what seemed to be a period of judicious consideration. Or Harry hoped it was that, anyway, and not just another minute of silence. “The Dark Lord will probably use that.”

He doesn’t seem to be scared of Voldemort at all right now, Harry thought in wonder, and then grimaced a little. Of course, he’s also acting mental, so that shouldn’t reassure me.

“All right.” Harry closed his eyes and fixed the image of a snake in his mind. Of course, it was the snake that he had seen on the faucet that opened to reveal the Chamber of Secrets, because Slytherin was rather on his mind lately. But that was okay. It wasn’t like he ever had to tell Snape. “Severus Snape.”

Snape hissed as if in mockery, but when Harry opened his eyes and checked on him suspiciously, he saw he was pale instead. Harry nodded in sympathy. He got that. Parseltongue had to sound pretty frightening and unnatural the first time you heard it after not hearing it for a while, and your own name would be worse.

“Again,” Snape breathed. “It’s a hard language to learn, isn’t it? All those twisting sibilants.”

Harry wanted to shrug and say that it sounded like English to him, but he concentrated on the snake instead, and hissed the name again. This time, Snape nodded, and said, “Once more should do it, I think. Repeated memories are easy to play over again and study in a Pensieve, instead of one that only lasts a moment.”

“All of your memories of me ought to go into the Pensieve,” Harry muttered. He just hoped that he wasn’t changing history irretrievably. On the other hand, at least two Unspeakables had told him that time travel wouldn’t affect the past or the future if the people who could change history took certain actions in secret: only destroyed hidden objects, hid their memories, and things like that. That was one reason Harry could go back and destroy a Horcrux no one else knew about. And he remembered how good Snape had been at spying and deceiving people. If he could keep the secret of his friendship with Harry’s mum, why not one like this?

“Perhaps they will.” Snape’s face was motionless and tranquil.

Harry hissed the name again. Snape moved towards him like a high-stepping deer, or his doe Patronus, Harry thought-the comparison was irresistible-his face almost glowing. Harry didn’t really want to think about the reasons why.

“Good,” said Snape at last. “Now. The only experiment that I knew for sure to force Slytherin’s spirit to manifest did not work. We will have to return to Hogwarts and do some more research.”

Harry rolled his eyes a little. “So you will just hide me in your rooms?”

“In some ways, a tempting prospect,” said Snape, and picked up the bowl. Harry decided he was going to pretend he hadn’t heard that. “But no. There are places you can go as long as you don’t draw the attention of someone like myself.”

At least he’s right about that, Harry thought in irritation as he followed Snape down the corridor. Like Hogsmeade. I’ll use Disillusionment Charms, if I have to.

Snape cast another contemplative glance at him. Harry looked away and awkwardly cleared his throat.

Of course, pretending certain things hadn’t happened was a lot easier for him than for Snape, when the poor bastard was dead back in Harry’s time. With that in mind, Harry decided he could forgive some things.

Although it’s still disconcerting to have his eyes on me like that.

Chapter Five.

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