Better Than Life

Part 1: Better Than Life

It was near midnight and most of the inhabitants of Hogwarts were fast asleep in bed. But not Snape. Slowly, he prowled the rows of bookshelves in the library searching for miscreants out of bed. A dim light shone from his wand as he walked.

Frowning, Snape saw a figure slumped across one of the tables, head resting on a book.

"No respect for books," he muttered as he walked closer. "Wake up!"

The body stirred slightly but didn't awake.

Snape cautiously prodded the person in the shoulder but there was still no movement With a start, he realised that it was Harry Potter. What would Harry Potter be doing, in the library of all places, in the middle of night? He deftly eased the book out of Potter's grip, smirking as the boy's head came into contact with the mahogany desk with a thump.

He still did not wake up.

Snape was beginning to feel uneasy. It had been a long time since he felt that particular emotion. Anger, yes. Fear, yes. But unease? Very rarely.

He looked at the book he held in his hand. Snape frowned again. A Potions textbook? When did Potter begin to take an extracurricular interest in Potions? After all, the boy was just as much of a dunderhead at his subject after nearly seven years as he was in his first year!

"And what potion were you examining?" Snape mused as he peered at the page that Potter had his head on.

As his eyes flicked down the page, Snape's face paled. He looked up and was startled to notice a small vial lying next to Potter's head. Picking up the vial, Snape sniffed the dregs.

With a disgusted expression directed towards Potter, Snape turned on his heel and made his way towards Albus's sleeping quarters.

-

"And to what do I owe this pleasure, Severus?" Albus was as cordial as ever, even though he was wearing a bright red dressing gown decorated with gold ducklings and matching slippers. "Please come in and sit down."

Snape swept into the office and sat in front of the crackling fire. His thin lips were pursed. "Potter has seen fit to ingest Better Than Life potion," he said crisply.

Albus's cheerful expression never failed. "I have a feeling that this will take a while. Would you like some tea?" He waved his wand and tea tray appeared in mid-air. Albus poured two cups of tea and handed one to Snape. "Now, you say that Harry has taken Better Than Life potion? I'm afraid that I'm a bit rusty as to its exact effects"

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh and took a sip of his tea, giving an involuntary grimace as he did so. Lemon tea. His least favourite. "Better Than Life potion allows the drinker to live nothing else than their greatest wishes. Its operation is quite similar to the Mirror of Erised except the drinker does not know that he is living a fantasy. It is what Muggles would call the ultimate hallucinogenic. Potter is now, no doubt, living his deepest desires." His upper lip curled.

"Oh dear," Albus said quietly. "When does it wear off?"

"It doesn't," Snape answered. "Or least, Potter being the idiot he is, took the version that does not. The potion will keep his physical body alive. Just."

Albus blinked. "Is there no antidote? Forgive me, I am no Potions Master as you are Severus, but I believe that all legal potions have an antidote."

Snape gave a harsh laugh. "That is true, to a certain extent. There is an antidote." He stopped.

"And?" Albus prompted gently.

"The antidote is not one in the classical sense of the word. There is a certain potion - quite easy to make - that somebody can take so that they will join the original person in their fantasy world. The second person cannot control anything in the original person's world. Their sole function is to convince the original person that the world they are living in is a fantasy and that they must leave that world. Once the person wants to leave, it is a matter of walking through the doorway that appears. However, as with all potions, there is a catch." Snape took a breath but Albus interrupted.

"The person is unlikely to want to leave."

"Precisely. After all, they are living their deepest darkest desires."

"What of the person sent to rescue the original person?"

Snape gave a wry smile. "They are stuck in the fantasy world until the original person decides to leave. There have been about 20 documented cases of people ingesting Better Than Life potion. In 14 of those cases, somebody has volunteered to help the person escape. Out of those 14 cases," Snape shrugged, "nobody has managed to get out of the potion's clutches."

"You talk as though the potion is almost sentient," Albus said.

"It certainly seems to have a rather, how should I say, sadistic sense of humour. In 12 of those 14 cases where a rescuer was sent, both ended up dying."

Worry flared in Albus's eyes. "I thought you said that the potion kept the person alive!"

"It does. But if the person dies in their fantasy world, their real body will perish as well. The physical body cannot live while the mind has died. It is suspected, but never confirmed - nobody has managed to escape the fantasy to tell the tale - that the rescuer would have ended up killing the original in the last futile attempt to escape."

"Oh dear," Albus took a deep swallow of his tea and then popped a lemon drop in his mouth. "This is not good news."

Snape spread his hands and then stood up. "I have done my duty, Albus. May I leave now?" He was about to depart when Albus held up his hand.

"It might be best if you stayed. We have much to discuss."

Confusion spread over Snape's features for a minute before something suddenly dawned upon him. He backed away. "Oh no, Albus," he snapped. "You cannot do this to me!"

-

"You cannot do this to him!" Ron yelled at Dumbledore and then wheeling around to glare at Snape. "Of all the people you could send to rescue Harry, you send Snape?"

Dumbledore held up his hands. "You are understandably upset, Mister Weasley, but you must understand that Professor Snape is the best candidate for the job."

"But why?" Hermione protested. "I've done some reading about this potion since you told us about it, and it seems to me that you can send anybody to rescue Harry! So why not Ron? Or me? Or even yourself, Professor Dumbledore."

"It is true that anybody can be sent to rescue Mister Potter," Snape said smoothly. "But the Headmaster has decided, in his infinite wisdom, that I am the most likely candidate to get Mister Potter out of his self-induced fantasy world."

It began to dawn on Hermione that maybe Snape didn't want to play the knight in shining armour any more than they wanted him to. "But Professor Snape, the books say that Harry only has one chance at being rescued." She bit her bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "Forgive me, Professor, if I'm being rude. But you and Harry... well..."

"Have been enemies ever since he entered the gates of Hogwarts," Ron said. "Harry hates you and you hate him. This is NOT a good idea!"

Snape turned his icy gaze onto Ron. "Mister Weasley," he drawled slowly, "I am perfectly aware that my relations with Mister Potter are neutral at best, but I am not questioning the Headmaster's decision."

Dumbledore's lips twitched and Hermione fought to keep a hysterical giggle down. It was obvious hat Snape must have protested a lot when Dumbledore first asked him.

"What are you laughing at, Miss Granger?" Snape sneered.

"Nothing, Professor," she said quickly.

Snape obviously didn't believe her, but let it pass. He turned towards Dumbledore. "Headmaster, when shall I be making this journey into Potter's mind?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "When will the potion be completed?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Then tomorrow night it is," Dumbledore said cheerfully. To Ron and Hermione, he said, "Don't look so glum, Harry will be back before you know it."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione said nervously. "May we go and see Harry in the Hospital Wing?"

To her disappointment, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but it will do you and Mister Weasley no good to see him comatose. I will contact both of you if there is any change in his condition. And remember, do not tell anybody else of this." His blue eyes held a warning. "If anybody asks, Harry is merely undertaking training elsewhere."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore." Hermione sighed as she and Ron left Dumbledore's office.

-

"That's the potion?" Albus pointed towards a murky green vial that Snape was holding.

Snape nodded.

Albus laid a hand on Snape's shoulder. "Be careful, Severus. We do not know lurks in Harry's mind."

Snape snorted. "No doubt it is the thoughts of an ordinary teenage boy. His psyche is likely to be now reclining among buxom naked women."

Albus's eyes gave an infuriating twinkle. "I think you are giving Harry far too little credit, Severus. You may be surprised by what lies within his subconscious."

Snape gave him a suspicious glance but didn't say anything. "Remind me again, Albus," he drawled, "why you are sending me? Other than an attempt to make my life more miserable than it already is, of course."

"Severus, dear boy, haven't we gone through this? I, too, have read up on this Better Than Life potion and it seems that the person has to be able to provoke an extreme reaction in the victim in order to convince him to return to the real world. Therefore you are the best person."

"I have never before encountered such an ill-founded plan," Snape said as he stared at the vial. "But I suppose I am given no other choice." He gave a dry laugh. "After all, I am in your debt."

Albus sighed and looked searchingly at Snape. "Severus, you are not in my debt. But you will forgive me if I still hope that you will undertake this mission. You are the only person who can return Harry to us. I know it."

Snape folded his lips into a tight line. "I will no longer be in your debt once - if - this task is completed."

A frown appeared on Albus's face, creasing his forehead sharply. "Dear boy, what do you mean?"

Snape stared at a spot above Albus's head, idly wondering whether the potion stain was caused by his Sixth year class this morning or the Second year class in the afternoon. Most likely the latter, he decided. The potion looked like a standard cleansing potion. "Assuming I am able to successfully extricate Potter from his mind, I will immediately withdraw my membership to the Order." His tone was firm. "Those are my conditions. I refuse to spy for you any longer." A sarcastic laugh escaped his lips. "I am no Gryffindor with bucketfuls of bravery and honour to spare."

"Severus," Albus held out a hand to the other man who jerked his arm away so that the hand only brushed his sleeve. "If that is your wish. But I hope that you will not return to your old ways." He gave Snape an earnest look.

"What I do will no longer be dictated by you, Headmaster." Just the slightest emphasis was placed on the final word. "But rest assured, it is highly unlikely you will see me on either side of this upcoming war. I have no wish to die for your ideals nor for the Dark Lord's desires."

"I see," Albus said. "Well, this is not the outcome I would have hoped for, but I stand by what I said earlier; you are the best person to rescue Harry, whether you know it or not."

Snape didn't even bother to give Albus a look of disbelief this time. He held the potion up to the light and regarded it without saying a word.

Albus touched his arm gently. "I will leave you here. You may want to drink the potion in your own private quarters." He left.

Snape continued to look at the potion. The only hope of he entire wizarding world now lay in his hands. For if he didn't manage to extricate the boy from his own mind... Snape shuddered. Even though he had no particular moral values, he did not wish to see the wizarding population destroyed by a madman. And, he suspected, that if the Dark Lord was not stopped, that was exactly what would to happen.

Snape cleared up. Holding the vial gingerly in one hand and his notes on the potion in the other, he made his way to his own quarters.

He had no particular liking for the Potter boy and was not pleased to be given the task of rescuing him from a world of his own creation. He suspected that Albus had another reason for sending him on this ridiculous quest. An ulterior motive. The flimsy excuse that he was given didn't seem like enough. Snape bit back a groan as he realised that he might be soon spending the rest of his life - which would no doubt be very short - in Potter's mind. In a world where only Potter could exercise control, albeit subconsciously.

"Time to pay for sins," Snape muttered as he swallowed the contents.

A minute passed and Snape raised an eyebrow. Nothing seemed to have happened. He consulted the notes which were sitting on his bed. According to the book, he was supposed to immediately be connected with Potter's mind. Somehow, logically, Snape felt that something ought to happen. A whirling and tugging feeling like a Portkey, maybe. Or perhaps disorientation like Apparation. Even simply falling unconscious. But instead, he felt as though nothing had happened.

A slight suspicion entered his mind. Was it possible? Could he already be in Potter's mind?

Snape walked to the entrance of his chambers and opened the door. Everything looked normal. He went down the corridor, nodding to several of his Slytherins who nodded back. Everything still seemed normal.

Entering, the Great Hall, Snape noticed dinner was being served. As he headed towards the High Table, out of the corner of his eye, Snape noted the four tables and their inhabitants still in their usual place. Nothing unusual. Everybody seemed far more upbeat than normal, but Snape couldn't be sure. It couldn't be anything to worry about, so he ignored it. He studied the High Table.

The blood immediately drained from Snape's face and a muscle twitched. Oh no, he thought. This is not possible.

But it seemed like it was. Sitting there on the High Table, amongst the Hogwarts teachers, was Sirius Black.

"Sirius!"

Snape heard the shriek coming from behind him and managed to just get out of the way before a figure tore past him and launched himself onto Black. He blinked. It was Harry Potter. The boy was currently hugging his godfather in front of the entire Hogwarts population.

Snape blinked again. Harry Potter was hugging Black in front of the whole of Hogwarts, and no-one was batting an eyelid. Impossible! Black was dead. He had fallen through the veil. The entire Order - with the sole exception of Snape - had mourned the loss in their typically overwrought manner.

Unless... this could be one Potter's subconscious wishes.

Snape, breathing deeply, sat himself down at the very end of the High Table. Everybody ignored him. Was that another of Potter's wishes? Or was that simply normal behaviour for people around Snape and he had never noticed it before? Snape clamped down on that line of thought.

He made himself a cup of tea and settled down to listen to the conversation between Potter and the mutt.

Just how did you tell somebody that they had created a fantasy world in which to live and had now conveniently forgot that it was actually not real?

"I'm so sorry, Harry, for not being there during the Final Battle," Black was saying.

Final Battle?!

"'S okay," Potter was saying. "It wasn't your fault. You were stuck behind that damned veil. But I'm glad I managed to finally kill Voldemort, only if because now you're back."

Snape could have choked on the earnestness that seemed to be emanating from Potter. So one of Potter's greatest wishes is to defeat Voldemort. Snape supposed that it wasn't that surprising. After all, he was expected to do so from the start. It would be great publicity. And Snape was sure that Potter would revel in, just like his father.

Although, as Snape looked around the Great Hall, he wondered why there wasn't a more concrete sign of the Dark Lord's defeat. Yes, it seemed hat everybody was in a joyous mood. But where were the news reporters? Where was Fudge who should be handing Potter an Order of Merlin (First Class) in that pompous tone of his? It didn't seem as though anybody except Black was paying Potter much attention.

"Now everything can go back to normal," Potter said softly. "I can finally be normal."

Snape gave a soft, but derisive laugh. He didn't want to draw undue notice to himself. Pretentious even in your own mind, aren't you Potter? He sneered mentally.

He took a sip of pumpkin juice and resolved to tell Potter straight after dinner. No point in prolonging his own stay in this world.

-

For the first time since he had received his Hogwarts letter, Harry was truly happy. In the back of his mind, Harry remembered being abjectly miserable just a few days before, but right now, that sentiment seemed completely foreign.

This happiness had seemed to come in such a whirl that Harry was left dazed and slightly confused. But he didn't mind the hazy recollections because he was finally content.

A day ago, Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts and all the students had been sent out in the front line to fight. Harry couldn't remember exactly how he managed to defeat Voldemort, just that it had involved a very bright flash of light and an explosion. The next thing he could remember was waking up in the hospital wing with Sirius looking over him. At first, Harry had thought that he was a Death Eater in disguise and had tried to attack but Dumbledore had come over and explained that the Veil was somehow connected to Voldemort and upon his death, Sirius was released.

The reunion was joyous and Sirius told Harry that he would never have to go back to the Dursleys ever again because he could come live at Grimmauld place. It was then that Harry felt suddenly complete. Completely and utterly happy.

The happiness was increased threefold when Harry learned that Dumbledore had forbidden media and Ministry personnel from entering Hogwarts to interview him.

It was with a bounce in his step that Harry left the Great Hall after dinner to go back to Gryffindor Tower. He was going to get a few Galleons and the Map - which had reappeared in his possession - and then going to meet Ron and Hermione to have a Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. The rules governing students being out of the grounds had been relaxed for this auspicious occasion.

"Mister Potter." A cold voice made Harry stop.

He turned around and found himself staring up at the face of his Potions Master. His stomach twisted. Okay, perhaps things weren't so perfect after all. Just last night, Harry had held some hopes that relations between Snape and himself might not be so bad after all. Snape had shook hands with Sirius and they had managed to exchange a civil word. Snape had addressed Harry by his first name and Harry had even managed to talk to Snape for a few minutes about his father's treatment of Snape during their schooldays and thought that they had come to an understanding. But obviously not.

"Professor Snape," he said quietly, scuffling the toe of his boot on the ground.

There was a silence as Harry began to fidget with his clothing.

"Stop that," Snape said sharply.

"Yes sir."

"Look at me when you speak, Mister Potter."

Reluctantly, Harry dragged his gaze away from the flagstones on the ground and back to the face of his Potions Master. Was it just him, or did Snape look ... well, slightly nervous? Harry gave a silent and bitter laugh. More likely Snape was simply angry.

"You will see me in the Potions classroom at nine o'clock. I have something to show you." Snape's tone was abrupt. He turned on his heel and Harry was left watching him walk away, his cloak swirling about his body.

-

Damn the infernal potion! Snape thought angrily as he walked away from the gaping Potter. He simply couldn't just tell the boy. Not out of any misguided kindness, but rather because Snape suspected that if he told Potter without evidence of some sort then Potter would be likely to ask Albus to lock him up in St Mungo's. Snape shuddered. And knowing how this was all Potter's delusion he could actually end up there.

He veered into the library.

"Severus!"

Snape glared at the owner of the voice. "Madam Pince," he said.

She beamed at him. "Why aren't you at the celebrations?"

He hid a grimace behind a dispassionate expression. Why had Potter needed to make everybody in this world so ... happy? "And, pray," he said smoothly, "When have you ever seen me at one of those gatherings willingly?"

She gaped at him, the expression looking strange on her usually stiff face. "But You-Know-Who is gone for good this time!"

Snape gave a short laugh. "I will see fit to truly celebrate when I see conclusive evidence of that." He brushed past her and into the dark recesses of the shelves. Snape could feel her suspicious glance on his back but chose to ignore it.

His eyes flicked over the spines of the books, careful not to touch any of them. Here in the Restricted Section of the library, books were known to do rather odd things from peculiar to outright dangerous. There had been rumours among the students during his third year that one of the books could eat you alive. A shiver ran down Snape's spine and he straightened imperceptibly.

Finally, he noticed the copy of Potions to Alter the World. Reaching out, Snape plucked the book off he shelves and slipped it into his pocket Hopefully seeing the recipe of the potion would make Potter believe him.

A knock sounded on the door to the Potions classroom at exactly five minutes past nine. Snape was seated in his customary place behind the desk with the book opened in front of him. "Come in," he ordered.

The door opened and Potter sidled in looking rather scared. "Sorry I'm late, sir." He folded up his invisibility cloak. When Snape raised an eyebrow, Potter looked rather sheepish as he said, "It was hard to get away from everybody."

Snape sneered. "The famous Harry Potter had to sneak away from his adoring audience. How unfortunate for him. Well I promise I won't detain you for long. I'm sure you miss your fans." In the real world, he added silently. Assuming, of course, that you choose to believe me.

To his surprise, Potter looked angry. "It's not my fault that they won't leave me alone."

Snape gave a mocking laugh. "Am I to believe that the famous Harry Potter actually dislikes all the attention he receives?" His voice was low and silky. "Why, Mister Potter, you have managed to outclass your father with all your attention seeking antics and we all know that is quite the achievement."

"Stop it!"

Surprise flickered briefly over Snape's face. "Insolence towards a teacher, Mister Potter, is not tolerated at this school."

Potter snorted. "And I suppose rudeness towards students is then, sir?" His tone was challenging. "You know, you almost had me fooled. I thought you had changed. Can you believe that we actually managed a civil conversation last night?"

Here was the perfect opening. "Actually, Mister Potter," Snape said, "I cannot imagine it. Perhaps that would be due to the fact that I was not the one having the conversation with you last night."

"Huh?" was Potter's not-so-erudite answer.

Snape held out the book to the boy. Potter gave it a suspicious glance. "Read the page."

Gingerly, Potter took the book from Snape's fingers and looked at the page. "Better Than Life potion?"

"Yes," Snape said as he watched Potter read the page.

Finally, when the boy had finished, Snape said with no small measure of irritation. "You ingested Better Than Life potion. This," he waved one hand in a semi-circle, "is a fantasy. A figment of your imagination."

Potter just stared at him. "Sir," he said hesitantly, "Wouldn't I remember taking the potion?"

"I suppose I should not expect any better from you Potter, after watching your pathetic performance in my classroom all these years. Did you actually read that page or did you simply skim it?" From the look on Potter's face, it was obvious that it was the latter. "If you had taken the time to read it properly then you would have learned that the potion hides itself from your conscious mind. You would not remember even looking up the potion much less actually taking the potion."

"But," Potter stopped and bit his lip. "But..."

"But what?" Snape snapped.

"But that's ridiculous!" Potter finally burst out. "Why would I take that potion? I'm happy! Why would I want to go into some sort of weird fantasy world?"

Snape gritted his teeth. It would do no good to be angry at the boy now, he told himself sternly. Save that for when you get back. If you get back. "Because your happiness happened after you took the potion," he said. "Potter, listen to me. Voldemort isn't dead. Black is dead. None of this is real."

To his disgust, Snape saw Potter's bottom lip tremble. Then with a visible effort, Potter pulled himself together. "Well then, why are you here?"

"I'm here to save you," Snape said automatically before mentally berating himself. That sounded ridiculous and obviously even Potter realised that.

"Save me?" Potter repeated incredulously.

"Yes, save you," Snape said harshly. "If you weren't such a fool as to try to take a book out of the Forbidden Section and try to actually brew one of the potions listed, then we wouldn't be in this situation. It is a miracle that you didn't manage to kill yourself."

To his surprise, Potter gave a short laugh. "Well this wouldn't be the first time."

It took him a minute, but Snape managed to get the oblique reference. "You surprise me Potter," he said. "I would have never thought that you could have successfully brewed the Polyjuice in second year. Unless... of course. Granger helped you."

Potter glared at him but nodded anyway. "Yes, Hermione helped me."

Snape waited for him to say something else, but apparently, Potter was determined to remain silent. Snape took the time to study the boy intently. It seemed that Potter had affected some changes in this world to his own personal appearance. He looked... somewhat older than how Snape remembered. Or maybe Snape had simply not looked at the boy very much in the last two years. It was still rather painful to think about how the brat had got away with looking through Snape's Pensieve. All due to Albus's meddling.

"Think about it, Potter. All the happy things in your life. They have all happened within the past forty-eight hours, haven't they?"

Potter frowned. "Yes," he said reluctantly. "But that doesn't prove anything."

"If you want proof, all you have to do is believe that this is a fantasy world and want to leave. That should allow a doorway to appear so that we can get out of your mind. Rest assured, I wish to spend no more time here than necessary."

"And what if a doorway doesn't appear?" Potter still seemed to be very sceptical.

"It will," Snape said adamantly. It had better.

Closing his eyes, Potter seemed to be concentrating very hard. Opening them, he glanced around the classroom. "I see no doorway, Professor. Therefore you're lying."

Snape ground his teeth in frustration. "Well that would be because you aren't believing that this is a fantasy world," he hissed. "While you are frolicking around here, relaxing amongst your admirers, your friends may be dying. The Dark Lord will attack Hogwarts any day now. And after that, what next? Do you think that he will truly be happy with simply dominating Mudbloods and Muggles? None of us are safe if he gains absolute power!"

Potter let out a long slow breath. "I'm trying," he said petulantly. A nasty expression crossed his face and Snape was unpleasantly reminded of James Potter. "Perhaps, sir," the insolent tone was obvious, "You're simply deluded. Perhaps all those years of playing the spy have addled your brain. After all, this a ridiculous story."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You impertinent brat!" he said, voice shaking. "You are being unbelievably selfish. Can you really believe that everything you wanted in life would all come true in two days?"

"Not everything." The mutter was barely audible to Snape.

"What?" he said sharply.

"Nothing!" Potter snapped. "Why shouldn't it? After all, I'm The Boy Who Lived! How many other people have survived Voldemort as many times as I have? Nobody! My life was ruined in less than an hour when my parents died. Why the hell shouldn't it fix itself in two days?" He stopped abruptly, breathing heavily.

Snape was again mildly surprised. "That is quite a lot of anger you are holding inside, Mister Potter," he said tonelessly.

Potter glared at him. "I know!" His shoulders slumped. "I know," he whispered.

"Potter," Snape stopped and took a deep breath. You can do this, he told himself sternly. What's in one word? "Please." There it was out! Snape was inordinately pleased with himself. "Please just believe me. This isn't real."

A sigh escaped Potter's lips. "Actually, sir," he said quietly. "I do believe you. Now that I think about it, the events of the last two days have happened in an almost dream-like state. It doesn't feel real." He held up a hand, stopping Snape before he could speak, causing the man to glare at him. "I'm trying to will myself out of here, but no door is appearing." He shrugged. "I just don't know."

"Well then," Snape said. He looked closely at the boy. "As I am positive that I am not addled in the mind, there can only be one other reason why the doorway isn't appearing."

Potter looked quizzical.

"You don't want to leave this world."

-

The words hit Harry like one of Dudley's punches to his stomach. At first, there was a sort of numbness as he digested them and then it began to hurt. Painfully. He could feel tears building up in his eyes and he blinked frantically to get rid of them. It wouldn't do to cry in front of Snape, of all people. "You're right," he finally managed to whisper, his voice shaking. "I don't want to leave." Harry pulled out one of the chairs and sank down onto it. He looked down at his feet.

"Potter."

Harry was surprised. The tone of the voice wasn't the sneering or derogatory one he had heard earlier this evening. Nor was it the sympathetic and pitying tones of his friends during most of fifth and sixth year. It was a matter-of-fact tone. And there was a shade of understanding in it.

"Potter," Snape said again, his voice also quiet. "I can understand the temptation to stay, but it's not the right thing to do."

Harry let out a derisive laugh. "The right thing?" he asked mockingly. "I've done the right thing my entire life and look at where it's left me. At least I'm happy here, where everything has turned out all right."

"But it isn't real, Potter."

Harry could sense Snape becoming frustrated, but his voice was still quiet and non-threatening. "Does it matter?"

Snape snorted. "Don't think that you're the only one. Don't make the mistake of thinking that you're the only one who is suffering because of this war. We all want to leave sometimes Potter. All of us wish that we could just escape. But we can't. We all have responsibilities. And we must fulfil those responsibilities."

"And what if I never wanted them?"

"It doesn't matter. They're still there."

Finally, Harry looked up and into the dark eyes of his teacher. "For the first time in my life today I was happy, and now you want to take it away from me." His voice was bitter. "Even you couldn't be that cruel."

"It's not cruelty. Find your happiness in the real world. Don't hide in fantasies."

Harry snorted. "And what would you know of that?"

"I know." Snape's lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. "Why do you think I joined the Death Eaters? Not out of some misbegotten pureblood ideals; that, I can assure you."

Harry studied his hands. There was a blot of ink on one. It's shaped a bit like a dragon, he thought idly. "It isn't as though I think I shouldn't leave," he said. "I know I ought to leave. But I don't want to." He shrugged. "False world or not, aren't I deserving of some happiness at least? And the potion keeps my body alive. So what does it matter?"

"It matters," Snape said harshly, "Because people are relying on you in the real world. People could die because of your selfishness."

"It won't make a difference," Harry whispered. "Voldemort is going to kill us all. I just want happiness before I die."

-

Snape looked at the boy, disbelief evident on his face. "Potter, what makes you think that you are going to die?"

"The prophecy." A pause. "I have to kill Voldemort, or he kills me." He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm not even strong enough to cast Crucio. How am I supposed to cast Avada Kedavra? So I'm going to die. Simple as that. And once I'm dead, he's going to kill my friends anyway. Selfish as it sounds, at least this way I get some happiness before my inevitable death."

Snape just stared. He had had no idea that Potter felt like this. The blank, dispassionate way the boy had just semi-recited the words showed him that Potter had spent far more time thinking about this topic than was healthy. And what am I supposed to do? Snape didn't know how likely it was that the Dark Lord would be defeated with Potter fighting with them, but he did know that without Potter, the Light side was as good as gone already. With a slight shock, Snape realised that Potter hadn't simply taken the potion on a whim. It was a calculated gesture on the part of a boy who believed that he was to die. And taking the life version of the potion was also deliberate. Snape felt the slightest stirrings of respect for Potter's potion brewing skills. It wasn't an easy potion to brew.

"So you just give up..." Snape said, still not knowing what to say or how to convince Potter that it truly was better for him to return to the real world.

"Yes." Potter lifted his head. Snape noticed that the eyes of the boy were glazed, as if he was in a daze.

An idea was slowly occurring to Snape. "Potter, do you not wonder why I agreed to come and rescue you?"

The boy blinked. Obviously the question had never occurred to him.

"I came because as my," Snape's upper lip curled, "reward for getting you back safely, I am allowed to sever any and all ties with the Order." From the expression in Potter's eyes, he obviously had no idea what Snape was getting at. "So as you can see, I have a vested interest in getting you back into the real world. I have been spying for Dumbledore for over seventeen years. It is not a job I particularly enjoy. I will enjoy leaving."

Potter gave a twisted smile. "So you were lying when you were talking about responsibilities, then?"

Snape mentally re-ran the conversation they had just had in his head and sighed. "There are degrees of responsibility and I believe I have atoned for my error of judgement all those years ago."

"And what does all this have to do with me? Why should I care?"

He gave a brief thought to how well Potter would have done in Slytherin. Very practical and goal orientated people always did well in his house. "Because," he waved his hand in a circle, "from what I can see of your," a brief sneer, "perfect world, all you want is to be normal."

Potter just stared at him. "I never would have thought that you would admit that."

Ignoring that comment, Snape folded his arms and leaned forward on his desk and fixed Potter with a sharp look. "You have more than two choices."

A furrow appeared on Potter's brow. "You mean," he said slowly, "that I have a choice other than being murdered or being a murderer."

Snape made an exasperated sound. "Yes," he retorted. "That is exactly what I mean."

"And what would the other choice or choices be?" Potter was obviously highly dubious of Snape's claims.

"I'm surprised that one of your Muggle-born friends - such as that Granger girl - wouldn't have mentioned it to you already."

"And this wonderful idea would be...?"

"Establish a truce with the Dark Lord. Sign a treaty." Snape watched Potter carefully as he said these words. This idea wasn't a new one to him, but he wasn't sure how the Gryffindor boy would accept it. It would most likely go against everything Potter had been taught since he came to Hogwarts. But hopefully, the boy wouldn't be entirely unreceptive to the idea.

"A treaty," Potter repeated incredulously. "You want me to sign a fucking treaty with the most evil man to walk the earth!"

Snape made a tsking sound. "No need for histrionics or language, Potter."

"Sorry, sir, for the language," Potter bit out. "I'm not being histrionic."

Mild amusement filled Snape when he realised that Potter's vocabulary was obviously not as deficient as he had thought. Maybe the boy has a brain within that pretty little head after all. Snape clamped down on that particular line of thought. Pretty little head? Did he just think that? No doubt the extended amount of time spent in Potter's fantasy world was starting to affect his senses.

"Potter," he began carefully, "surely it is time for you to realise that the world cannot be simply painted in black and white."

"Shades of grey, I know," Potter interrupted. "But that doesn't stop the fact that Voldemort is not exactly a good person. Okay, maybe not purely evil, but certainly no upstanding agent for the Light. He kills people without a second thought!"

Obviously Potter was thinking of that Diggory boy again, Snape thought with a mental sigh.

"And I thought that you said that Voldemort was a menace," Potter continued, looking sceptically at Snape.

"I said no such thing," Snape answered smoothly. "I said that none of us would be truly safe if he gained absolute power. But with a peace treaty limiting his movements, he wouldn't have that absolute power, would he?"

"I suppose not. But that still doesn't make it the right thing to do."

Snape threw up his hands, forgetting that he had let go of these ridiculous adolescent notions years ago. "Right and wrong, Potter, are such nebulous concepts. You know the theory behind the world being shades of grey, now it's time for you to learn the reality. Do you think that all the Aurors are immaculate? Do you think they have never killed? What do you think Dumbledore expects you to do? What do you think the so-called Light side expects you to do? They expect you to kill Voldemort! They expect you to soil your hands with his blood. And then what? How much blood must the wizarding world endure? How much longer before the Muggles realise that we exist and decide to exterminate us like rats?" Snape stopped, breathing heavily. "Did you really think that only Death Eaters killed?"

Potter seemed speechless as his eyes blinked over and over again behind those round glasses. "I think I understand now," he said quietly, biting his lower lip. "You want to protect the entire wizarding world."

"Congratulations Potter," Snape said, tiredly, his voice tinged with the tiniest bit of sarcasm. "I'm not saying that it would be easy to convince the Dark Lord that a truce would be in his best interests, but I," he took a deep breath, "am willing to help you on that."

"You would be willing to help?"

"Yes. Do you think I want to see our world destroyed by the upcoming war? And even if we aren't destroyed, the sheer numbers of people who will be involved will undoubtedly bring us to the attention of Muggles. I don't know about you Potter, but I did pay attention in History of Magic. Muggles aren't more tolerant than us."

"But," Potter started and then stopped. He buried his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know what to think." He gave a soft laugh. "What you say makes sense. Too much sense."

Snape had a feeling he knew what Potter was thinking but decided to ask anyway. "What are you thinking?"

Potter didn't answer his question. "Why are you being so... nice?" he asked instead.

"I'm not being nice," Snape answered truthfully. "This, Potter, is called pragmatism. I am making the best of the situation. Once we are back in the real world, I am no longer bound to Albus. No longer bound to spy for him." A bitter smile. "I am finally free to live my life after twenty years and I wish to make sure that a world still exists where I can enjoy it."

"Strange," Potter muttered, "but I can almost understand the sentiment."

A world ruled by Potter and the Dark Lord. Snape mused over this idea. Somehow, he felt that it would work. Potter would command support from the Mudbloods and half-bloods whereas the Dark Lord already controlled the purebloods. "Do you still want to stay in this world?" he asked carefully.

Potter shrugged. He seemed to be doing that a lot. "I don't know," he admitted. "It is enticing. But," his face hardened, making him look far older than his seventeen years, "I don't want to abandon my friends to die. Not if there is some way I can fix it."

Years of practice had allowed Snape to keep an emotionless face in the most trying of circumstances but even he was hard-pressed to hide an exultant expression. I'm free, he thought numbly. A mistake at the age of seventeen trapped me for twenty years, but I'm finally free. "Well, Potter, what are you waiting for?"

Frowning at him, Potter scrunched his face into an expression of concentration again. Immediately a shimmering, golden archway appeared in the Potions classroom.

Snape was amazed as he looked at the doorway. Somehow, in the deepest recesses of his mind, he hadn't expected this to work. After all, it hadn't worked for anybody else who had attempted a rescue, had it?

"We have to walk through that?"

"Yes," Snape said abruptly. He stood up and pushed his chair back. To Potter's obvious surprise, he walked around the desk and grasped Potter's hand, which was warm and slightly sweaty. "We must be touching to get back safely."

"Okay," Potter croaked.

Snape looked down at him and realised that the boy was trembling. Fear? He thought, slightly amused. He is still scared of me? Briefly, he met Potter's eyes and saw a flicker of something in them. It was Snape's time to bite his bottom lip. Perhaps not fear then, he thought with quite a bit of surprise as they passed through the shimmering archway.

-

Harry wasn't sure why his heart was pounding in his ears or why his knees were trembling. After all, he was just holding his Potion Master's hand. Logically, he should be cringing away in disgust or be simply apathetic to the whole event. After all, it was necessary. Snape had almost spelt that out. A thought suddenly occurred to Harry. He had felt this way when first talking to Cho. He immediately pushed it away. It was ridiculous.

As they passed through the archway, Harry felt a mildly pleasant sensation as if he was a car and had just passed through a Muggle style carwash. Now if he didn't feel so damn sleepy... as if he couldn't keep his eyes open at all...

The next thing Harry remembered was opening his eyes and realising - with a groan - that he was yet again in the Hospital Wing. A disgusting potion of some sort was being pushed under his nose.

"Drink this," a female voice ordered and Harry complied with a grimace.

"W...what is it?" he finally managed to croak out.

"A nourishing potion," the voice told him briskly. Harry wracked his brains and finally came up for a name for the voice. It was Madam Pomfrey. "Escaping from that world leeched out all your energy. You have been asleep for over two weeks.

"Harry."

The voice came from Harry's other side so he turned his head, wincing at the pain in his neck. He saw Dumbledore sitting there, looking down at him calmly.

"We are all so very glad that you are alright, dear boy," Dumbledore told him.

Harry didn't answer. He was still running the conversation he had with Snape through his head. Did he really agree that he would try to work out a treaty with Voldemort?

When he tuned in again to what Dumbledore was saying, he found the Headmaster scolding him. "Now, Harry, we all know how much pressure you are under, and I take blame for most of the pressure but these are dangerous times we are living in. You're our only hope for defeating Voldemort."

Not knowing how to answer, Harry simply didn't.

Dumbledore sighed and stood up, brushing his robes off. "Rest now, Harry," he said softly. "I will be back to see you soon."

Harry opened his mouth to ask about his friends, but Dumbledore had already left. "Annoying old bastard," he muttered under his breath.

"As much as it pains me, Mister Potter," came the slow drawl from the bed across the room, "I have to agree with that assessment."

"Professor Snape!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up and grimacing at the pain in his joints.

"Mister Potter," Snape said evenly.

"I remember what we discussed," Harry said when it became apparent that Snape wasn't going to say anything else. It seemed just so ... ridiculous under light of day. Stupid. Suicidal, even.

He was surprised when Snape answered, "You are not bound by your promise, Potter."

Harry looked at his teacher in surprise. "I'm not?" he repeated, well aware that he sounded like a dolt.

"You're not," Snape confirmed. "But it would do you well to keep some of what I said in mind in the next few months."

Harry nodded. There was a long silence and then he blurted out, "Are you really leaving then, Professor Snape?"

"There is no more need for the Professor, Mister Potter," Snape said. "Yes, I am leaving. This evening, in fact."

"Have you told Dumbledore yet?" Harry asked. He berated himself. Just because Snape had talked civilly with him in his fantasy world didn't mean that the courtesy extended to the real world. But a larger part of him was simply curious at what Dumbledore's response was.

"There is no need to," Snape answered and Harry could have sworn that he saw a flicker of amusement in the man's dark eyes. "I informed before I attempted the rescue that if I were to return, I would leave his services."

Harry grinned unexpectedly. "Does that mean we won't have a Potions teacher?"

Snape looked at the boy and nodded affirmation.

Any other questions Harry might have asked were stopped when skidding footsteps were heard outside the Hospital Wing. A red head was poked through the door. It was Ron. "Harry!" he cried and flung open the door.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Hermione rushed through the door and wrapped her arms around Harry. "We were all so worried."

Harry smiled at his friends once Hermione had let go. "I'm fine now." And he felt like he could almost believe it.