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Young At Heart	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15428 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and am not making any money off of it. If I did , Snape would have gotten laid - often and repeatedly.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-Epilogue
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2

At sixteen, Severus Snape was just as cranky and disagreeable as he
was at thirty-eight. The only notable difference seemed to be his
size and the fact that he 'has actual facial expressions', as Ron had
declared in awe. He was proving impossible to convince, certain of
some 'Gryffindor prank', so Harry had resorted to the one option he
had left: he firecalled Draco Malfoy.

Now, sitting across from him at a cafe in Diagon Alley, he regretted
it more than he'd ever regretted anything in his life. He and Malfoy
were just never, ever going to get on, not even after saving the
prat's worthless life. It was like talking to Percy with a silver
spoon shoved up his arse, Harry decided.

Harry sighed and slumped forward in his seat. His appetite was
nonexistent, but he'd ordered a float so as not to be rude and took a
sip of it while trying to figure out where to even begin. He'd
gotten hell from at least three different people last night, and
could end up standing trial for performing illegal magic. The fact
that it had worked (sort of) was completely irrelevant. The fact
that it was for a good cause also didn't matter. If all that wasn't
bad enough – he'd dragged his friends into it.

And then, there was Snape. Sixteen year old Severus Snape. “I'm
sure you've heard?” he asked at last.

“That you turned the
Headmaster of Hogwarts into a sixteen year old boy, you mean? I do
read, Potter,” Draco answered dryly.

Harry's lips twisted into a small, forced smile. There were times
that Draco could sound exactly like Snape – bitter, derisive,
and belittling. Most of the time he was just a pompous arse, though.

“...we're having a right hard time convincing him it's true. He
thinks I'm my father. The only person I can think of that will be
able to convince him is, well, your father.” ...as much
as he hated everything about that brilliant deduction.

“So then you want me to have my father make an appearance in
hopes that, what, exactly? Snape will realize you're not out to get
him, faint, possibly give himself a concussion, and then you can play
happy family because he's no memory at all of how much he loathes
you? Must be nice to be able to erase anything from your life that
you find disagreeable. Not all of us are so lucky.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry spat. “Just because you
can't buy your way out of every one of life's little complications
any more, don't think that means you have a right to judge me for
being glad of having the chance to start over with someone I never
gave a fair shot.”

Draco tensed, his lips curling into a derisive sneer. “You
really ought to be a bit nicer to me, Potter, if you want a favor,
don't you think?”

“If you don't want to do it,
then just say so. I'll see if I can get in touch with Professor
McGonagall.” He was dreading talking to McGonagall. He thought
Kingsley Shaklebolt could give a surprisingly good lecture, but the
man had nothing on
Minerva McGonagall. Nothing.
Harry knew he would have to face her eventually, but right now
procrastinating for as long as humanly possible was looking pretty
good.

“I never said that. I implied
that I wasn't willing to do it for you.
Professor Snape is another story entirely. I will speak with
Father. He's still in the hospital, I imagine?”

Harry nodded dismally. “For observation, and I think because
they've honestly no idea what to do with him.”

Draco got up abruptly. “I
trust you've got the bill then, Potter. After all, I'm the one doing
you such a big favor.”

Big favor indeed. “Didn't you just say it wasn't for me?”
Harry grit back, but that minor detail was one Draco Malfoy wasn't
particularly willing to admit to. He strode off without any further
acknowledgment, leaving Harry to pay for his meal. It wasn't that
Harry couldn't afford it that bothered him – it was just the
principle of the matter. He grumbled something under his breath,
left the money and his half-full float sitting on the table, and
stomped back toward St. Mungo's.

He paused when he noted the robe
shop. Maybe something to wear other than a drafty hospital robe
would improve Snape's disposition a bit.

He stared blankly at the size chart until a clerk came over. “Can
I help you with anything?” she asked in a fluttery voice. The
way she was looking at him told him why – being famous was such
a pain in the arse. He couldn't go anywhere without people raising a
fuss. “Ah, well, I'm trying to figure out what size clothing
a, er, friend of mine might wear. He's somewhat...tallish, and
spindly-looking. Rather thin, really.” He made some vague
gestures with his hands to illustrate that Snape was a bit taller
than him, but generally narrower all around. “I suppose he has
somewhat girlish proportions, really. If the girl were perhaps
flat-chested and not very...curvy, if you understand what I mean?”

He raked his fingers awkwardly back through his hair as the girl
scurried around holding up different sized trousers. In the end,
he'd settled on a pair of pajamas with a drawstring waist for now.
Going shopping for Snape? Was he insane? No matter what he picked,
it was going to be all wrong. 'It's just stress. The stress is
just making me mental.'

**

“What did you do to them?” Snape asked, suspiciously
eying the cozy-looking blue cotton and shooting his dark gaze towards
Harry.

Harry sighed. This was getting old. Snape didn't trust anyone,
even at sixteen. That couldn't all be blamed on his father
and Sirius, could it? “I just bought them. I haven't had time
to do anything, even if I wanted to.”

“So you admit to...”

“Of course not!” Harry cut him off. “I know you
don't believe I'm not my dad. I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to
do to prove it. I just walked by a store and thought they might be
more comfortable than hospital robes, that's all. It's not like I
expect you to pay me back or anything stupid like that. They're just
pajamas, Snape.”

Severus sniffed indignantly. It wasn't that he couldn't believe
Harry wasn't James. It was that he didn't want to. If he accepted
that one distinction as true, then there were all these other, far
more important details, that by default were thus made automatically
true as well – like the fact he'd somehow lost twenty years of
his life, and even more than that...that Lily Evans was dead.

He absolutely couldn't bring himself to accept it, not yet. Not
Lily. She was the only thing in his life worth a damn. He managed to
convince himself it was all some elaborate scheme – that James
had spell-changed his eye color and added the scar with a glamour.
Certainly, Lily would never lower herself to marry someone like
James. Surely not! He felt like that logic was the only thing
keeping him sane.

'Harry' had been nothing but kind to him, he knew that. And if this
was all real, then Severus was aware he was being unfair by
instantly assuming there was a motive behind his every word and
action. But that was only if it was real. If he didn't accept that
reality, then he was completely justified. He just wasn't ready, not
yet. He didn't know if he ever would be. He could, however, accept
the pajamas, he supposed.

“...thank you,” he said grudgingly. He couldn't help the
tone, and noted the way Harry's shoulders relaxed as he slid out of
the bed and padded barefoot behind a curtain to change. They were
too big. Everything always was. If it fit his long limbs, he was
swimming in it everywhere else – if it fit his narrow hips it
was inches too short. Given the option, he supposed bigger was
better.

When Snape padded back out from behind the curtain in the dark blue
cotton, Harry couldn't help but stare. With his hair mussed and the
top leaving open a long V that exposed a good deal of his jutting
collarbone, Severus Snape was certainly in a state Harry never
thought he'd see.

Snape tugged on the collar, which was drifting to expose a pale, bony
shoulder again as he climbed back into the bed, curling his legs
beneath him. The pajamas were, if nothing else, incredibly
comfortable, even if somehow they made him feel like he was five
again with the sheer billowy mass of them pooling around his lean
frame.

He was like...this adorable little kitten that you just wanted to
nuzzle and hug to death, Harry decided. A testy, grumpy kitten, but
still a kitten. Even when they're bastards, they're still so cute
you have no choice but to adore them. 'Whoa whoa whoa! Snape is
not cute, Harry! You're really losing it...' Except, well,
at the moment, Snape kind of was cute. The way he was
watching Harry watching him with an unreadable expression but one
that Harry thought might have been uncertainty or confusion, burrowed
into the pajamas like he'd been freezing since he woke up and was so
glad to finally have some warmth wrapped around him. 'If I hugged
him, he'd be even warmer,' Harry's evil little voice informed
him. 'No,no, no! Absolutely no hugging. You shut up, Evil Little
Voice.'

He offered Snape a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his neck
awkwardly. “So, uh, is there anything else I can do for you? I
mean, I know this all must seem nuts...”

Severus sucked his lower lip between his teeth thoughtfully. Harry
became enchanted by the gesture. “A book?” Severus
asked.

“Sorry, what?” 'Damn it Harry, focus!'

“Book?” Severus repeated with a quirked brow. “You
know. They're these things with pages. The pages have words on them,
and if you're even remotely literate you can read them and learn
things. Typically leather bound. Or does this 'future' of yours not
have books?”

Harry barked out a laugh. Ah, that was much more like the Snape he
knew and it relieved him to see a glimmer of the familiar snarkiness
appearing. “No no, we have books,” Harry waved. “I
just zoned out. There are a bunch of books at my house. I sort of
inherited them – never read 'em myself, but I bet you'd find
them really interesting. I'll bring some by tomorrow. And maybe
some more clothes, too. I kind of remember there being a chest of
old clothes lying about upstairs somewhere.”

Harry didn't know what possessed him to push the stray strand of hair
out of Snape's eyes. He pulled his hand back and muttered an
apology. “It was sort of annoying me,” he covered. “It
wasn't bothering you?”

“...not particularly,” Snape answered awkwardly. There
was a strange tenderness in that gesture that he didn't know quite
what he was supposed to make of.

“Right, so...get some rest,” Harry said because that's
what you always say to someone in the hospital when you're leaving.
It didn't matter that other than a slight case of teenager, Severus
Snape was perfectly fine. Harry didn't know what else he was
supposed to say. “I'll be back again tomorrow.”

Severus nodded as Harry got up to go, feeling more anxious as the
door closed behind him. Once Harry left, it was always so quiet.
The silence unsettled him more than seeing Lily's green eyes watching
him uncertainly from within his rival's face ever could.

TO
BE CONTINUED...
- 1
- 2
- 3
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Young At Heart