All This Time

ALL THIS TIME

III: Outsider

Time present and time past

Are both perhaps present in time future,

And time future contained in time past.

-- T. S. Eliot

Severus Snape -- not the tanned, shy child at Hogwarts but a long-since-grown man, a pale-skinned teacher of children -- stepped out of thin air and into his rooms at school. He smiled, pleased and a little tired, and walked to the kettle, pouring himself a cup of hot tea.

He'd laid in a week-long supply of food and water, made sure the spell extended not only to his study, where the nexus of it was, but also through his bedroom and washroom. He had some papers and ink, as well as a few favourite books, and he had no doubt he could keep himself amused; he'd always been able to do that, even as a child.

At first, the idea of being trapped in one place for a week, perhaps more, was horrifying to him. He was by nature a man who walked corridors, who wanted to be amongst people even if he didn't like interacting with them. But the longer he'd considered it, the more he'd weighed the options, he'd found that there was also a certain appeal in the solitude of it all.

Of course there was no point in catching up on correspondence or writing a paper; at the end of the spell, when he stepped out of his study and into the steady fluid stream of Time for the last time (ha) ever, he could take nothing with him. He would not even be the same man.

Still, out of habit, he sat himself down at his desk to write. His fingers, twitching slightly, flicked black ink over the parchment. He looked at them for a minute, eyebrows drawing together, lips pressing into a thin, fine line.

And then he put parchment to paper, and began to draw the first line of the first letter, carefully, with the same concentration that he always put into this compulsion. He would never know what it was he wrote, but if he was going to be compelled to it, then he might as well do it right.

A week out of time, he thought, as the quill scribbled away, drawing nonsense shapes on the parchment. To take oneself and one's home out of the flow of time for one week, and to be able to travel freely during that time -- living each day as if it were several years, stepping in and out of the flow of one's own past...he had already made an alteration, had already changed his own young life. He wondered, idly, what would happen when he returned to the past, later this evening.

He would have changed his own destiny. It was a heady feeling.

And still the quill scratched irresistibly across the paper, such a small thing to be so independent of his control.

***

Dear Grandfather,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am glad to hear that the shop is doing so fine, and will you please tell Mistress Nolan when she asks that I am not chasing after girls or getting into trouble, and if she was chased as a First Year I bet it was only to pull her hair. Well, you don't have to tell her that second part. She must enjoy hearing you read my letters, she always has something to say to them, the old biddy, and you can read that part aloud if you like.

I am glad to hear that Uncle Barrin is coming back to England, I should very much like to see him after receiving his letter 4th Oct which was delivered by a great big Pelican. He says he is in New England and promises to send me something from Salem. I say, his life is exciting, isn't it?

I am sorry this letter comes so late but I have been working very hard as you asked me to, and have not had much time for letters&games&etc. There are some boys in my classes who eat meals with me and we sometimes go down and dare each other to go into the Forbidden Forest, but I will not take a dare and Sirius Black got five points from our house for going in three feet when Pettigrew told on him (Pettigrew's a Gryffindor. Doesn't it figure?). Some of the Gryffindors are quite friendly chaps, though, and some of the Slytherin boys too, though they are a gloomy bunch. I know you wanted me to be a Slytherin, Grandfather, but honestly, I think it can't be much fun.

I have enclosed some pictures of Hogwarts&Quidditch games and also some of Sirius and Remus&James and me, and Peter is sort of in the picture if you look just over James' shoulder, you can see his hand waving. Thank you very much for the camera.

There was quite a Tiff in class yesterday. Professor Kiernan was giving a lecture on Recent Wizarding History and one of the Hufflepuff boys said his Grandfather had fought in the Muggle Second World War and it wasn't at all like Professor Kiernan said, they weren't just killing each other for fun and because that's what Muggles do, and Professor Kiernan said quiet you but then another boy spoke up. We do seem to get a lot of Muggle history in Professor Kiernan's class. It seems like everything bad that happens in the Wizarding World is down to Muggles. The Slytherins (Tertius&Thorpe&Aaron) agree with Professor Kiernan. What do you think, Grandfather?

Must run now.

Severus

PS: Have also enclosed pictures of Gryffindor Common Room, will you please hang them up next to Ravenclaw and leave space for two more?

PPS: Have just spoken with James. He says on Nov. 2 you may expect pictures of Hufflepuff Common Room as well. Don't tell!

***

"You know, I was thinking. We've got to keep this plan top-secret. We can't tell Iris, or Liam or any of the Quidditch team, they'll blather it everywhere. Gryffindor Quidditch, anyhow," James said, doodling in the margin of his textbook. Severus, who had yet to finish his essay, looked up. The library was already dim in the setting sun, but he still had six inches to go on his essay for Transfiguration, and he wasn't as good at essays as James.

"You think we ought to tell anyone else at all?" he asked, returning to the quote he was writing.

"Well, I think it'd be more fun. How'd you come up with this scheme anyhow? It's brilliant. Sneaking into the other common rooms, just because you can..."

"Dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time." Sev shrugged.

"So who should we bring along? The Invisibility cloak can hold three, and we need one or two more to create a disturbance. Bet you Black'd love to be a part of that," James added. "He makes disturbances for no reason at all."

"Yes," Sev agreed, not quite as approvingly as James. "He does."

They were silent for a while, except for the skritching of Sev's quill on the parchment.

"We've only got a week before Halloween," James said, finally. Sev looked up.

"Yes, and I've only got two days before this paper is due," he said crossly.

"So help me plan our midnight raid now and afterward I'll leave you alone," James answered. Sev laid his quill aside and sighed.

"I think we ought to have Sirius and Lupin make a disturbance, and you and I'll go in," he said. "Any more people and someone's bound to tell."

"Lupin? Really? Not one of your Slytherin friends?"

"You play Wizard Chess with Thorpe all the time," Sev pointed out. "You think she's...'cute'. They're hardly just /my/ friends."

"I don't trust them."

"Fine, I did say we shouldn't use them."

"What's got into you tonight?" James asked.

"I'm trying to do my work, Potter, not all of us are geniuses about this sort of thing," Sev snapped. James scowled.

"Why d'you want Lupin along, anyhow?" he asked, snootily.

"I..." Sev closed his mouth, looking thoughtful. "I owe him a secret," he said.

"You what?"

"Listen, I know something and I promised him I wouldn't tell but I've been...well, holding it over his head since school started, see? And I don't want to be his blackmailer anymore. So I owe him a secret. Get it?"

"Wotcha, lads," Sirius said, appearing from behind a bookshelf. "Are we having a party? I brought drink," he added, pulling a glass jar out of his bookbag. Both James and Sev, ignoring each other, regarded it suspiciously.

"It's an Everlasting Cocoa Jar," Sirius said proudly. "Uncle of mine sent it to me. You put water in it in the morning and in the evening you've got hot cocoa. Go on, have some," he added, producing two mugs, stolen out of the dining hall, from his pockets.

"I'm going to study," Sev said, clearing up his scrolls and gathering his books. "You tell him about things, James, if you want to sort out the details. I've got to finish this essay."

James shrugged, watching him go, and turned to Sirius with a grin.

***

Sev stalked down the hallway, stuffing parchment and books into his bag as he went.

Hogwarts was everything he'd dreamed of since uncle Arith first told him about it. It was wonderful, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. But he was worried. He'd never made friends easily, but he'd always had somewhere to /go/, he could always wander away from school and his parents and his fears. At Hogwarts, you were hemmed in, there were people /everywhere/.

And he had no idea if he'd made friends. There was Sirius of course, and Remus and James in the Gryffindors, and Tertius and Thorpe and Aaron in Slytherin. He liked the Slytherins; they had style and class, and were the ruthless sort that he admired. But were any of them really his friends?

He stopped at the last sheet of parchment, staring down at it. All around the tightly-written text, he'd been doodling while talking to James. He'd have to recopy it. But it was what he'd doodled...

Strange, angular sigils covered the empty space between the edges of the paper and his essay. He thought he'd outgrown them. He swore he'd had done with them last year...

As long as he could remember, he'd drawn the symbols, compulsively -- in school books, with a stick on sandy ground, with a pencil in his sketching-books. It was a secret language that belonged only to him, and it had to, as even he didn't understand it. He knew what to write, and he knew when he'd gone wrong, or when someone trying to copy, as Arith had once done, went wrong. But he didn't know what the letters meant. He just knew they were there and he had to write them.

But he hadn't, not for ages. And now here they were, half a sheet of them.

It was stress, that was all. He'd find somewhere quiet and rest for a while, somewhere people weren't.

"Oi! Snape!"

Sev sighed, and shoved the last of his parchment into his bag, and turned. Sweet-faced, fair-haired Tertius Malfoy was running down the corridor with that curious hitching gait of his, which he used to keep up with the longer-legged boys. He arrived grinning, out of breath, but his robes were straight and unwrinkled, and his hair fell in a perfect cascade around his ears, stopping just short of his collar. His bright blue eyes danced.

"I've been all over trying to find you. Where've you been?" he demanded, catching the taller boy by the elbow. Sev scowled.

"Library," he grunted. "Why?"

"Couple of the older boys wanted us to polish up their broomsticks for the match," he said, holding up a tub of broomstick polish.

"I've got a paper to finish," Severus said reluctantly.

"Oh, blast your wretched paper. This is a chance to see real racing broomsticks!" Thorpe cried, as she and Aaron caught up to

Tertius.

"I beg your pardon," Sev said, but he found himself physically marched down the hallway, between the three Slytherins, before he could protest. "Where are we going?" he demanded. Tertius smirked.

"Broomshed, of course," he said, leading the way. Sev shook off Aaron and Thorpe, and followed reluctantly.

They moved quietly, with a stealth Sev didn't quite understand, until they were outside and headed for the Quidditch pitch; then Tertius, as usual, went prattling on about something Quidditch-related. The boy was mad for the sport. Sev personally didn't fancy being a Bludger target that far above the ground, but apparently some boys liked recklessly risking their lives. James was just as mad as Tertius for it, but at least James had some skills to back it up. Never stopped reminding them of it, either.

"Alohomora!" Tertius whispered, unlocking the door deftly. But wouldn't the older boys have given them a key --

"Here, you take this one," said Tertius, tossing him a broomstick from out of the gloom. Sev was distinctly nervous now, but he set to polishing with a rag and a studious expression. James wouldn't be happy if he found out about this, but James wasn't his mother, wasn't even in his house.

It wasn't until he'd almost finished the second broomstick that he noticed the name on it.

Andrew Wood.

Andrew was Gryffindor Seeker.

"This isn't a Slytherin broom," he said, loudly. Tertius shushed him.

"You really are dim, aren't you? How'd you make it into Ravenclaw?" he asked.

"Why are we -- "

"Keep your voice down!"

But it was too late. There was a stomping noise from outside, and the other three threw down the brooms and vanished into the gloom of the shed, making for the back door. Sev, bewildered, stayed where he was, clutching Andrew Wood's broom tightly.

Light spilled into the dim shed, illuminating the shadow of someone far too large to be a student, holding a handful of flames. For a horrible moment, Sev thought the man was going to hurl the fire at him, but instead, his free hand reached out and grabbed the boy by the collar of his robes.

"Little firsties should not be about o'nights, Snape-Brennan," said a horribly amused voice. He looked up, past the flame, into the eyes of Professor Kiernan.

***

Ten minutes later, Sev sat in Kiernan's office, staring miserably at his shoes poking out from beneath his robes.

"Let me see if I've got this right," Kiernan said, still in that voice, the one that said he was amused because he was about to do something really awful. "Despite being a Ravenclaw, you were supposed to be helping out polishing the Slytherin broomsticks for tomorrow's Quidditch match. Yet instead, you were polishing Gryffindor broomsticks with..." he consulted the the tub of polish, rubbing a little on his fingers, "Sorell's Impediment Charm, if I'm not mistaken. Guaranteed to make your broomstick hard to steer and impossible to handle."

"I didn't know it was -- "

" -- a charm, yes, so you've said. What interests me, Snape-Brennan, is why," said Kiernan, slowly, "you would believe that first years, especially non-House first years, would /ever/ be allowed to handle Quidditch broomsticks?"

Sev felt his heart race. "I just...they said..."

"They?"

Sev knew his face had closed up, because he saw Kiernan's reaction.

"You don't betray a mate, eh?" the man asked. "Fine. I can't be held responsible for foolish loyalties. A report of your scurrilous behaviour will be made to the Headmaster, and I will personally notify your parents of this occurrence. You have disgraced your family, Snape-Brennan."

Severus felt himself relax, just a notch. If all Kiernan was going to do was tell Frank and Ann, he was safe.

"Perhaps I shall speak to your grandparents, as well," Kiernan mused, noticing this.

No oh please no oh please don't tell Grandfather. Oh please no.

"I see I have your full attention," Kiernan observed.

"But Grandfather will be so ashamed -- "

"You should have thought of that, young Snape-Brennan, before you broke school rules."

"But I didn't -- "

"Lying! Disgracing your family! The son of disgraces, Muggle-squibs, and a likely squib himself -- "

"I am not!" Severus shouted. "I'm a wizard!" he cried. "You can't say that! I've every right to be here. I didn't know it was a charm! I hate Muggles!" he added. Kiernan grinned.

"Do you now?"

Sev said nothing, merely glared.

"And what would you do, young man, to prevent your grandfather from discovering your disgrace? To prevent Madam Brennan's first news in eleven years of her grandson to be that he has been punished by the school?"

Sev's hands were trembling, and he forced them to rest quietly on his thighs.

"What would do any good?" he asked hopelessly.

"You're not a very popular boy, are you?" Kiernan asked, suddenly.

Ah. Humiliation. Sev was used to a certain amount of this. He straightened his back.

"I have mates," he replied defiantly.

"Purebloods?"

"Some of them."

"And some from Muggle families."

"Yes."

Kiernan nodded musingly. "How often do you hear from your grandfather?"

"Twice a week."

"He's political, old Carver?"

"He doesn't say much to me, if he is."

Kiernan continued to nod. "I'll strike a deal with you then, Snape-Brennan, for the sake of your pride. You will serve one detention a week, on Wednesdays, with me in my classroom. For the rest of the year."

"The rest of the -- but that's months and months!"

"Yes, it is," Kiernan agreed. "So ask yourself, which is more important -- your Wednesday evenings, or your pride?"

The answer was easy. Wednesday was temporary. If he failed Grandfather Carver so soon after arriving at school, he wouldn't be able to come back. His parents would put him in some horrible Muggle school...

"I shall expect you promptly after dinner, Wednesday next," Kiernan said, and left the classroom serenely.

***

Tertius and the others were waiting for him outside the door to the Ravenclaw common room.

"Did you get lectured?" Tertius asked. "Was it awful? Did he beat you?"

"No," Sev answered sulkily.

"Did you tell?" Aaron demanded.

"Course he didn't tell, Snape wouldn't tattle," Tertius said, but Sev saw the hesitation in his eyes.

"I didn't say anything," he said heavily. "Now let me alone."

"What'd he do?" "Are you expelled?" "Will you get another howler?" "Did he hex you?"

"Weeks and weeks of detention," Sev said tightly. He turned to the portrait and muttered the password, stepping inside and closing it again on the other boys' excited questions. Alone in the entranceway, he leaned his head against the wall, and sighed.

"I thought you were coming back here to study?" a voice said, quietly.

"Oh, do leave off, Sirius," he said, and stormed past the startled boy, up the stairs, and into their dorm, throwing himself onto his bed and slamming the draperies shut against his friend's hurt look.