Tempus Fugit Praeterhãc

Thanks to the wonderful Cyndie my darling Claudia and the amazing Emz, for all the betaing, hand holding and much needed support. Huge thanks also to the wonderful maculategiraffe who helped me with the Latin translations and gave me much needed advice on Roman history and customs.


Epilogue


Severus threw down his copy of the Daily Prophet in disgust. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. He kept it clean these days, washing it daily with a specially created potion which left it silky and soft. His young lover adored playing with his dark locks. Thinking of his Harry almost brought a smile to his face but he couldn’t quite manage it – he was just too angry.. His seething fury was directed, as usual, toward the abominable Skeeter woman who was at it again, hinting that he and Harry were in an abusive relationship and that he was the abuser.

The Prophet article, written in her unmistakable style, was suggesting that Severus had been abusing Harry for years, that it had started when Harry was still at school, when he was underage. These articles were reminiscent of the odious woman’s vitriolic writing about Albus during the year that Harry had been on the run from everyone: from the Ministry of Magic to Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Her insinuations that the late headmaster had abused Harry had not been able to hurt Albus Dumbledore because he had already died; but these new accusations could and did hurt him and, worse still, they might hurt Harry.


It had been three years since the defeat of Voldemort, for which, Severus had been awarded an Order of Merlin (second class), reinstated as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and by rights, at least according to Harry, should be receiving the treatment of a hero. Instead he had to cope with snide comments from many of his colleagues and offensive, vicious articles like the one Skeeter had spewed with her poison pen.

Minerva knew the truth about what had happened to them during their Roman adventure, well most of it anyway. She was probably the only confidant Severus had left; even so, he felt that he could only confide in her to a point. Since Dumbledore’s death there was simply no one left he felt he could trust enough to unburden himself to completely, certainly no one amongst the ex members of the more-or-less abandoned Order of the Phoenix. Ironically, the werewolf would probably have been an ally, Severus thought wryly, but then again maybe not, not considering his relationship with Harry. That seemed to be the sticking point with a number of people, especially the Weasleys. The only member of the family that Harry even saw anymore was the youngest boy, Ron. Apparently the youngest Weasley male had been the one to save Severus’ life after the battle – by shoving one of the several Bezoars, that he perpetually carried with him, down Severus’ throat – he seemed to feel that he had some sort of responsibility for Severus. He was always asking after Severus, according to Harry at least and had even, on occasion defended Severus in public.


Molly, on the other hand, seemed to hold Severus personally responsible for taking Harry away from her daughter. Although Harry had tried to explain to her on many occasions that had known he was gay well before he and Severus had started their relationship, she just couldn’t seem to accept that Harry had not been in love with Ginny and was determined to believe that Severus had stolen Harry away. Harry’s explanation that he had already decided that he liked men better than women while in sixth year had fallen on deaf ears as did his pointing out that even the girls that he had dated had sported boyish physiques. Harry had thought at one time that Ginny was his one chance of having a home and happiness in marriage, because she had known him long enough to want him for who he was, not for whom everyone wanted him to be. Once he had come to terms with his sexual preference, however, that had not been enough to engender love.

Harry had a home now, with Severus, who loved him and accepted him and knew him for exactly who and what he was. Severus smirked to himself, he knew that meant everything to Harry.

Severus had thought that Arthur Weasley might have proved a friend of sorts; but Arthur, whilst seemingly grateful that Severus had saved his son, appeared unwilling to risk Molly’s wrath by developing a friendship with the potion’s master. He was pleasant and polite but made no overtures to friendship. They perhaps could have overcome the widening rift with the Weasleys if Harry had wanted to try, but Harry seemed to wear his indignation at Severus’ treatment like a sort of shield and was not willing to let anyone past who might be less than welcoming of Severus’ place in Harry’s life.


He never would have imagined that he would miss Albus so much. He longed to talk to the man, to ask him how he had managed to set the Tempus charm in the first place, how had he set the secret door in the statue so that it could only be opened by a Parselmouth. There was some way of learning the odd word, wasn’t there? So he remembered reading anyway. Harry’s Parselmouth abilities were still in evidence and Severus postulated that perhaps the talent was innate. He had a snake carved into his headboard and when Harry had first noticed it he had slipped into the language of the serpent without even realising that he was doing so. It had sent shivers down Severus’ spine, hearing the sibilant tones on Harry’s tongue. Harry had used it often since.

But that didn’t explain how Dumbledore had managed to use it, if indeed he had. There were so many unanswered questions in Severus’ mind. How had Albus altered the spell to send them back in time, instead of forwards? Had he truly destroyed Severus’ notes? Severus had almost kicked himself when he realised, after hearing Harry’s tale of the strange meeting with Albus, that he had not destroyed his notes as he had planned to do before leaving Rome. He had certainly been distracted, not to mention extremely distressed, in those last few days before their departure. There was no doubt in his mind that he had simply not been thinking straight.

Several times he had tried to talk to Albus’ portrait, but the old man had been infuriatingly evasive, or perhaps he had been spelled into silence on the subject? He had merely smiled enigmatically, called Severus ‘Dear Boy’ and offered him a Sherbet Lemon - which had been skilfully rendered in cadmium yellow.

Severus couldn’t seem to sit still. He paced around the office, fidgeting with the various bits of accumulated bric-a-brac that generations of headmasters and mistresses had left behind. He suspected that even Dumbledore, himself, hadn’t known what half of them were for. Catching sight of the Daily Prophet article again, Severus felt renewed rage at the allegations in the squalid rag of a newspaper. Yet even as the anger coursed through him, Severus also felt the old pangs of guilt beginning to surface as he thought about how he had treated Harry at the beginning of their seven-year relationship. Merlin, he didn’t even like to think about what the headlines would say if Skeeter ever found out about that! Not that Harry seemed bothered about it in the least. No, he continued to insist that Severus had treated him better than anyone else he had ever lived with. However, given the treatment Harry had endured at the hands of his relatives and a certain meddling headmaster, that didn’t comfort Severus in the way Harry obviously thought it should.

He missed Harry.

Harry had spent the past three years as the seeker for the Chudley Cannons, taking the team to league success. After the defeat of Voldemort people had been unwilling to let their hero fade from the public eye and had pressured Harry to begin playing professional Quidditch. Rita Skeeter, among others, had argued that it was Harry’s duty to lead the way in showing the Wizarding world that life went on, that despite the pain and losses of the war, there were good times ahead. Three months ago he had flown for England at the Quidditch World Cup. The star of the team, he had led his country to victory against the super strong Swiss. Since then Severus had seen him only once about nine days ago, for fifteen minutes at the Quidditch Headquarters, after returning from a punishing demonstration tour and before heading off to the southwest of England for a festival of flying. . Although they tried to sustain constant communication through owl post and firecalls, it wasn’t the same as actually seeing each other in the flesh.

Severus had just never felt welcomed by any of Harry’s team-mates or by his manager, he was often told that Harry was too busy to see him and he suspected that some of his messages were never passed on. At times it seemed as if the whole world was actively trying to keep them apart.

But he was coming home today. Severus had no idea what time he would arrive, so all day he had been on tenterhooks, with the Prophet article not helping his mood a bit. Every footstep, every cough, every whisper made him think of Harry. He couldn’t wait to see his boy again; not that Harry was a boy any longer, not really. He was a strong, very attractive, fully grown man – but to Severus, Harry would always be ‘his boy’.

Severus just couldn’t settle. Finally, as he often did when he couldn’t concentrate, he sat down at the large mahogany desk and opened the drawer where he kept Apisus’ letter.

The letter had been encased in a magically sealed leather tube in the top left-hand drawer of the desk that had once belonged to Albus. The day that Severus had taken over as headmaster for the second time the drawer had simply popped open as Severus sat down. He had always thought the drawer to be firmly stuck shut, and later, when he asked her, Minerva said that she had never been able to open it either.

The faded leather tube had been softened with age. A note had been tied to it with a long red ribbon. The note had been from Albus. It had been short and somewhat snippy, following Albus’ usual method of using complex obfuscation, whilst giving just enough information to keep someone hanging on for more. The note stated that the leather tube had been in the box left to Albus by his long distant ancestor Albus Marcus Apisus. It also said that Albus had been unable to open it and had thought the tube could only be opened by the person to whom it was addressed. The name inscribed into the leather container in tarnished gold leaf was Severus Tobias Hispanicus and Severus had been able to simply give the lid a simple twist and take out the parchment scroll that had been tightly rolled inside.

Severus loved the feeling of the crinkly parchment and was awed by the 2000 year old note so carefully written and preserved by a boy whom he had loved like a son. He would never speak to Apisus again, never even hear his voice; yet, somehow, just holding this letter comforted him. This was especially true when he was feeling as low as he had felt lately; the scroll brought the happiest time of his life closer, even though it was forever lost to him.

Severus cringed, he was so fucking pathetic! He missed Rome so much. He missed their easygoing life, their neighbours and friends. He had thought he’d been homesick when he and Harry had first arrived in the ancient city, but that was nothing… nothing compared to how heart-sore he was now.

Slowly he unrolled the precious letter. He tried not to read it too often. It was just stupid, to forever wish for what he could no-longer have. But it would be okay, he told himself, it would be fine… just to have a quick look… whilst it was quiet… whilst he waited for Harry.

Dearest Severus, he read, the words as fresh and clear as the day that Apisus had written it. How much we all miss you and Harry. It has been so many years since we saw you last and I am no-longer young as once I was. Often I turn to speak to you, to ask your guidance, before I remember that you are so long gone and so far away.

Are you happy, you and Harry? Now that your beautiful boy has killed his dark wizard. I often think of you in your marvellous future enjoying all the fabulous things that Harry told me of and cannot help but wonder if you miss us as terribly as we miss you.

Several years ago we all came to live in Britain, myself, my darling Virginia, Modia, and at least some of her children, including Rufus and Hermia. All of us who were there the night that Harry saved Hermia and little Sev, who were touched by his magic, haven’t aged as we should have done. We still seem so young. By the Gods, Severus, when I had my seventieth birthday I still only looked about thirty-five; Modia hadn’t changed in all that time either, people started to notice and wonder. One or two of us would have not caused much discussion, but so many? It was easier to leave in the end.

After Thomas died, Modia didn’t want to run the inn any longer on her own, as in those days there were far too many ruffians let loose in Rome. So she gave it over to her son, Charlus, and came to join Rufus and Hermia here with me. Their children are fully grown now, with children of their own. Severus married my youngest daughter Lilius, whom you would adore; they have six children together. Lili has her mother’s long red hair and a smile that brightens the greyest winter day, of which there are many here!

Modia’s namesake married a local man, whose name was Aurelius Ambrosius. He died before his son and own namesake was born. He was Roman, stationed at Isca Augusta; his mother is from a noble Celtic family and they adore his son, whom they call Merddyn. Modia minor spends much time in Aurelius’ home village which is near the fort and no more than a few day’s ride from here, thus we see them often. Modia’s grandson is the most magical of us all, his other grandmother being a Druidess didn’t hurt a bit, either. Modia minor, it seems proved a worthy mother for such a child. He is a joy to me and perhaps my favourite of all the children, although I suppose I should not admit to having favourites. He has a peculiar talent for chasing dragons, which has garnered him much notoriety with the Welsh king Vortigern. I do not doubt that his fame will continue to grow, along with the strength of his magic. Unfortunately there is little left that I can teach him about either potions or spells; he needs more Severus… he needs someone like you and Harry.

When Ambrosius’ father married his Druidess it was an unusual event, but there are many such marriages now. The new governor, Julius Agricola, who is a close relative of our old friend Gaius Iulius Nocens, says that he encourages intermarriage – though he does not always tell the whole truth, like many of his class. Currently he is far away fighting the savage Dalriadian tribes on the northern border of the Roman territories.

Winter comes quickly in this place, as I am sure you know! Today it has been raining hard and the road from Londinium has been quiet. Part of the reason why we came here for a new life was because we had become tired of all the political machinations in Rome. I followed the Emperor Claudius’ legions and was one of the first to arrive; but I hear Rome is a different place now than it was when we left. Our old shop survived Nero’s fire and thrives under its new owners. Modia’s oldest son, Bilius, and his Gaulish wife took it on and their grandchildren are making a good job of it. It is still a good business if I am informed correctly.

The twins stayed behind for many years, but once Gaius Iulius Nocens arrived with his grandson - who is called Lucius, after his mother’s family - Septimus could not stay away for very long. Not that we see them much; they have settled in Londinium. The twins have started a shop selling the sort of things they sold in Rome and Gaius Iulius is enjoying socializing with the emerging Romano-British Patrician class and supporting Lucius in his post as secretary to their cousin.

I am very happy here; it is, and always shall be, home. My eldest daughter comes to call me for dinner now. She is so unlike her sister, solemn and serious. She suits her name, Severa, so well and whilst she is very different from my Lili, I adore her for her wit and her intelligence. Her husband, Figulus, makes amphora and Severa creates beautiful decorations upon them and into each she weaves charms for preservation. They are craved around the world by those who love beauty. She has just one child, a son, born late and much adored, who wishes to follow his father’s trade.

It was only when we settled here that our children finally found love, either in each other or in those whose magic is also strong. Being as long lived as we are, we could be lonely without a loved one to share a long lifetime. I am heartily glad that my children have found such love.

If I am honest with myself, as I know I should be, I really came here rather than anywhere else in the Empire because I wanted to see your homeland. Somehow I feel closer to you here, though we might be two thousand or more years apart. When the leaves turn in our valley I wonder if they turn, too, for you? Surely they must? And in the spring when the Bird Cherries, which abound here, are laden with blossom, I wish you could see them too, wherever it is that you are. I am told that they grow most prolifically in this part of the world and may not be so abundant elsewhere. I see them whenever I take walks to the long burial mound of the old ones that overshadows our little settlement. I often stand on the barrow, looking down on our home and wonder what you would make of it all.

We are well, all of us, healthy and long lived, as I have said – thanks to our magic, I think, thanks to you and Harry. We live in a small valley on the road to Aquae Sulis, which attracts customers heading to the baths or the shrine. I run a bakery and a shop selling potions, Modia runs a small inn – her food is famed for its wonderful taste and abundance, a skill she learned from Harry, I’m sure. This place had been settled for generations, but it was abandoned when we came. I believe it once had some Celtic name which now is lost, but we call it Prunusconvallium, after the cherry trees. We are run off our feet and often wish for more help… we would welcome a Potions Master and a hardworking boy.

My library grows grander each year and I know that you, my dear Severus, would love it, as do I.

It seems that magic grows stronger in these parts with each year that passes. I am convinced that Harry brought it back into the world. I have read many volumes in my long years and there is little doubt that in my mind that magic was dying out in our homeland. It had flowered in Greece, in Antiquity. But we Romans love straight lines, whilst magic seeks the crooked, the diagonal. We seek structure whilst magic needs the wild. We cannot nurture it with our ordered streets and walls. Harry gifted us with his magic, and in this place it grows strong amidst the gean wildwoods and mingles with the native magic on the empty high plains near our home. Places that have teamed with magic since before the passing of time was recorded.

I must close this letter now and seal it to send it forth. I hope it finds you as happy as I am as it leaves my hand. Farewell my dear Severus, take care of your precious Harry and of yourself. I look forward to the day that we meet again, in this world or the next.

Your friend and admirer in perpetuity

Albus Marcus Apisus.

Whenever he read the letter, Severus’ throat felt tight and his eyes would prickle with the tears he would refuse to let fall. He hardly needed to read it anymore, knowing it as he did almost word for word, but he relished the comfort it afforded. He smiled sadly and wished with all his heart that they could be again with the people who were the closest thing to family that he and Harry had ever known.

He would love to meet Modia’s grandson – he would be a worthy pupil for any teacher, Severus thought.

He closed his eyes and imagined Rome: the twisted, cobbled streets, the overcrowded houses, the pungent smells, the noise. Then he thought of the garden, their special place, a little oasis of peace and tranquillity in the centre of an ancient hive of humanity. It had become a meditation for him, this exercise in remembrance. It calmed him, picturing the garden and their home, walking through it again in his mind, calmed him.

There was a knock on the door.

Severus felt his heart lighten.

“Harry!” he breathed.

“Is it alright to come in, Severus?”

Minerva McGonagall, breezed into the room.

Severus scowled.

“Oh, Severus, he’ll be here soon,” she said, not unkindly.

“I’m fine, Minerva. Do stop your fussing, woman, your constant wittering gets on my nerves!”

The infernal woman smiled at him, smugly.

“Are you planning on taking time off when Harry gets here?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course I don’t! But I need to make sure that sufficient arrangements have been made.”

“No, I plan on just swanning off with my young lover and letting everyone else sort things out!” Severus sneered.

“I take it that you’ve read the Daily Prophet today?”

“What has that got to do with your bloody, silly questions?”

“Very little, Severus. But I am sure it has everything to do with the tone of your answers.”

Severus huffed.

“How about a nice cup of tea?” Minerva asked.

At least the infernal woman knew how he took his Darjeeling.

He had stopped teaching since he became Headmaster, except for the senior classes in Potions and Defence. He secretly enjoyed teaching the older students, ensuring they reached the high standard he expected of them; and he really, really liked not having to deal with children who fumbled and stuttered and were only in potions because they had to be.

“I have organised Filius to take the seventh year defence class…” Severus began.

There was no warning when the door opened again. Harry didn’t bother knocking. Severus was simply aware of the door bursting open followed by a blast of energy and power and light. Then his lap and arms were full of Harry, who rained kisses on his nose and on his cheeks.

“Oh God!” Harry was saying between kisses. “I missed you so fucking much! Oh, hello, Professor McGonagall. How are you? I’m sorry, I got caught up. Bloody meeting ran on and on. I thought I would never get away. Hmmm, are you using a new shampoo? How’s Flea?”

“Mr. Potter, don’t you need time to breathe?” Minerva asked, wryly amused.

“Nope!” Harry said, kissing Severus on the lips. “Don’t let us keep you back, Professor.”

“I’m sure you must have schedules to draw up or something?” Severus added, his arms pulling Harry tight against his chest.

“And I’m sure that you two have a lot to catch up on!” Minerva chuckled. “I assure you that I have no desire to be cast in the role of a small green fruit.” She closed the door – which Harry had left open in his mad dash – on her way out.

“Well, that got rid of her!” Harry said, sitting back somewhat smugly. “What is she talking about, anyway? What small green fruit? Does she think she’s a grape or something?”

“She means a gooseberry, brat! It is what someone is said to feel like if they are getting in between lovers.”

“Oh!” Harry said, with a grin. “Well she is not getting between us. I mean I like her and everything, but that is pretty yuck when you think about it. You, me, and McGonagall…”

“Behave!” Severus said, slapping Harry firmly on his very pert arse.

Harry waggled his eyebrows

“Gonna make me, Domine?” he asked.

Severus smirked.

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Potter.”

He nibbled at Harry’s plump lower lip and sucked it into his own mouth, deepened the nibbles so that they became a kiss. Harry kissed him back, seemingly as desperate to taste Severus as Severus was to taste him.

They kissed for some time, desperate to be close to each other again. Touching each other, holding each other. Harry was clad in a light t-shirt and a pair of jeans, preventing Severus from reaching all that tempting skin that he knew lay beneath. “I want these off,” he growled, tugging at Harry’s t-shirt. “I want you naked and spread out for me on our bed.”

Harry grinned.

“Okay, Domine. Shall I strip now? Walk down to our quarters in the buff?”

“Well, I would enjoy the view,” Severus said, “but I don’t want to shock the entire school. Besides, it is MY view, my own private view, and I don’t want to share it with anyone. So, I shall join you there in approximately ten minutes, Mr. Potter, and if you are not laying on our bed, spread wide and waiting for me, I shall want to know why!”

Harry’s grin widened. He turned and sprinted away.

Severus counted to ten, and followed. By the time he arrived in their rooms, Harry was stripped to the waist and barefoot.

“Oh dear, Harry, you have disobeyed me, I see?” Severus said silkily. “I shall have to punish you most severely.”

“That wasn’t ten minutes.” Harry protested indignantly.

“I did say approximately.”

Harry chuckled. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I am going to vanish the rest of your clothing and pound you into the mattress,” Severus said, promptly following through on his words as he did indeed vanish the faded denim that Harry wore and advanced slowly upon his now very naked lover.

**********

Hours later they lay sated and content, wrapped up in each other, skin touching skin. They were as close as they possibly could be. Severus could feel Harry’s lashes against his shoulder, his breath ghosting against Severus’ nipple. The green silken ribbon that Severus had used to tie Harry down, while he’d teased him and kept him on the edge of arousal for hours, brushed over Severus’ stomach. It was still wrapped around Harry’s wrist, contrasting beautifully with the boy’s tanned skin. He smiled rather smugly when he thought of how Harry had begged him, whimpering pitifully as Severus had done whatever he had wanted to do to his helpless lover.

Harry sighed long and deeply.

“Are you happy as things are, Domine?”

Severus stiffened, holding his breath. Suddenly he could feel nothing but stark terror, thinking perhaps fear had stopped his heart. What was Harry going to say? Was this it? He should have known it was coming, of course it was. Everything had been so sweet, so wonderful. Harry had met someone else. Had this been a goodbye… he couldn’t think the word; with every particle of his being, Severus knew that they had just made love, he and Harry, and he couldn’t even think the word ‘fuck’ to describe what they had just done. Was it the end? He should have known. Harry was young and handsome – he was a hero, for Circe’s sake – of course others wanted him, chased him. Maybe, finally, Harry had allowed himself to be caught?

He didn’t know the answer that Harry wanted. He didn’t know what to say so, being the proper Slytherin he was, Severus prevaricated.

“Are you?”

“No,” Harry stated flatly.

Severus’ heart felt sore. He wanted to break down, beg Harry not to leave him, but he could not do that. If Harry needed his freedom, Severus had always promised himself that he would not deny him. Would not make it difficult.

“I hate it here. I hate it that I haven’t seen you for weeks. I don’t want to be flying off all over the world. I don’t want to be away from you anymore.”

“Wha…What?” Severus whispered. “What did you say?”

Harry pushed himself up on one elbow and gave Severus one of those quizzical looks of his. “I said I miss you. And I do, every hour of every day that I am away.”

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Severus breathed. It was just as well that he was lying down as the relief sweeping through him making him feel almost giddy.


“Domine?”

“I…I thought that you were going to say something else.”

Harry didn’t speak, he just raised his eyebrows silently waiting for Severus to continue.

Severus couldn’t meet Harry’s eyes.

“Erm… I was expecting you to say something different.”

“What?” Harry demanded.

“That you, erm… might have… er… become tired of me… that you might have found someone else.”

Harry didn’t laugh at him, instead his puzzled look softened but his voice sharpened.

“What is it with you, Domine? Do you need me to tell you that you’re a silly git before you realise that I’m truly home or something?”

Severus’ lips twitched, he almost smiled. Harry could be so blunt sometimes, and he loved it when Harry was like that. He knew that it meant Harry felt comfortable enough with him to show his sarcastic, sharp-tongued side, the side of Harry that few people even knew existed.

“You are such an arse sometimes!” Harry muttered grumpily as he lay back down against Severus.

He didn’t speak for several minutes and Severus held himself totally still. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever it was Harry was going to say. Sometimes it took a while before Harry said what was on his mind. Years of not being listened to, years of nobody caring had made him very tentative sometimes, but Severus knew that when Harry did speak he would tell him everything. Harry was too open to want to keep secrets even though he’d had to keep so many in the past.

“Domine, what would you say if someone told you that we could go back home?” Severus didn’t even have to question what Harry was talking about, where Harry was talking about. For both of them, there was only one place, one time, that was home. He didn’t even have to contemplate an answer

“Yes. Oh Gods yes! I would say yes!”

“Good,” Harry said, very carefully. “I’m glad you said that, because you see, Domine, I think that we did.”

For a moment, Severus couldn’t speak. Harry hadn’t said ‘we should’ – he had said ‘we did’. Was what Harry said true? They could go back? They would go back?

“We go home?” Severus croaked. He felt like he had turned to stone, not even daring to hope. There hadn’t been a day that passed since they’d arrived in the present that Severus hadn’t wished they could return to the past, that they had never, in fact, left Ancient Rome.

He had never forgotten Modia’s words ‘You have a good life here. You have your health and a good looking boy in your bed. You have plenty to eat, a good income and respect from your neighbours. It doesn’t get much better than that, love, you should enjoy it while you can.’ He had tried to live by those words ever since, but it had been so much harder here, in Post-Voldemort Britain.

Not at first perhaps, in the first few months he and Harry had rarely spent time apart. They had been rebuilding Hogwarts to begin with, everyone working together. When the school had reopened, however, it had become more difficult. Their relationship had started to garner condemnation. Children had been kept away by their parents because of Severus’. People could forgive him for being a Death Eater and it seemed they could even forgive him for killing Dumbledore. But few, apparently, could forgive him for his relationship with Harry – their saviour, their hero.

In an effort to protect Hogwarts and themselves from vicious gossip their cosy times together stopped and they had become ‘discreet’. Then Harry was asked to try out for the Chudley Cannons and everything changed.

“Yeah, I really think we do,” Harry said.

He snuggled against Severus and began to tell him why he had made such a statement.

“We toured the West Country, me and the Cannons, flying every day. We started in Truro, and then we went to Exeter, then Bristol and finally Bath,” Harry explained. “When we were in Bath I got to take a day off.

“I went to the Roman Baths, Domine, and it was so amazing. It felt like home to me. The others from the team were looking at it as if it was history, talking about it as if the people who used the baths and worshiped at the shrine were strange, very different from us and long gone. But for me? Domine, I kept thinking if I could only turn a little faster, be a little quicker, I would see them, be back with them. It was almost painful to be there, to see a glimpse of what we have lost.”

Severus hugged him and placed a kiss on Harry’s head, wanting to offer comfort. He truly did understand how Harry felt.

“So, then we went to the Abbey. They have this collection of Medieval books that our manager wanted to see. I was reluctant to go at first; I just wanted to go back to the guesthouse. I mean, it was just a load of old books!”

The corners of Severus’ mouth twitched ominously, almost causing a smile. That was so like his Harry!

“But I thought that I’d go anyway and so I could tell Hermione all about it,” Harry continued, enthusiastically. “At first it was just as dull as I had feared. Then, guess what I saw? It was your book. They have a copy of your book, Domine!”

Severus didn’t have to ask what book Harry was talking about. His Potions book, the one that he had found when he was about sixteen in a small, obscure bookshop off Diagon Alley, the one he’d had ever since and still carried wherever he went. It was the book that had made him discard the diary that Harry had subsequently found in his sixth year.

The author of Severus’ Potions bible was a Medieval monk named Adelard of Bath. This well travelled cleric was a respected Arabic scholar and was known for bringing Middle Eastern science and philosophy to Medieval Europe. He was also famous for translating ancient documents into Latin. One such work was his definitive book on Potions and Spells, Magicus Antiquitus, which contained recipes from all over the ancient world. Severus knew that less than 20 copies of this incredible work had been transcribed from Adelard’s original and he probably had one of only a few that had survived to modern times.

Included in this tome were the creations of an ancient Potions Master, known only by his initials, F.J.H. Nothing else was known about this man, apart from his skill in creating many of the potion recipes and spells that were the basis for all others in the modern Magical World. Severus, himself, credited most of his success in potions experimentation to the basics he had learned from this ancient genius. Adelard’s recipes had become the Slytherin youth’s inspiration and by this time Severus knew them all by heart.

“It was the original, Severus, not a copy but the original, transcribed by Adelard himself,” continued Harry excitedly. “I practically know it by heart, you know, ‘cause you’ve made me study it so often.” He smiled and placed a fond kiss on Severus’ chest. It was so tender, so affectionate that Severus felt incredibly foolish for his worries earlier.

“There are some extra bits, though,” Harry continued, his eyes fairly blazing with barely contained anticipation at the telling of his tale. “There is a paragraph that isn’t in your book, right at the start. I could read it easily, even though it is a bit watermarked and some of the writing is obscured, because my Latin got so fluent in Rome. It said something like ‘transcribed from the recipes of Severus Tobias Hispanicus of Aquae Sulis’.”

Severus couldn’t speak. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but he couldn’t seem to form words.

“The initials in the book are yours, Domine. It should be S.T.H, not F.J.H! They were copied wrongly, by whoever transcribed Adelard’s work. So you see, I know we can go back, I know we do go back, because I think that we already have.”

“Harry,” Severus spoke carefully, “we can’t read too much into that. It could have been someone else. Adelard could have made a mistake, probably did make a mistake. I didn’t write any of my Potions recipes down and Severus was a common name in Rome… it was almost certainly someone else.”

“No it wasn’t!” Harry exclaimed. “It was you, I know it was! And that is just the point. You didn’t write any recipes down yet, but we haven’t gone back yet! And Severus might be a common name in ancient Rome but Tobias Hispanicus wasn’t.”

“Harry, we cannot go back.”

“We can and we do-did! Apisus’ letter is the proof!”

“What do you mean?” Severus asked.

“After Bath, we all had a day free so me and Katie Bell went to find Godric’s Hollow. I hadn’t been since the year that I was Horcrux hunting, and I couldn’t exactly enjoy looking around then. I wanted to see where my mum and dad had died when I wasn’t being hunted by Death Eaters. This time I knew it instantly. It is the place in Apisus’ letter. We go back. Apisus’ letter proves it.”

Severus couldn’t see how Apisus’ letter proved that they went back, he couldn’t quite dare to believe what Harry was saying, and he knew that by producing the letter he could show the boy that he was deluded. He had put the letter in his pocket when Minerva had visited him in his office. He got out of bed and went to retrieve it. The floors in the dungeons were as cold as ice and normally Harry would squeal if Severus got back into bed with such cold feet. It was a mark of how distracted Harry was that he didn’t say a word.

Harry took the letter from Severus’ hand and carefully unrolled it. He looked up at Severus though brows that were drawn in concentration. Severus rarely saw Harry like this. Harry always insisted that he was not very clever, not very academic, but bit by bit over the years Severus realised how completely untrue that was. Occasionally he had caught glimpses of a different side of Harry: the quick intelligence that he rarely showed the world.

Once again, Severus cursed the boy’s aunt and uncle. He had been told so often that he was stupid that he truly thought he was. He dismissed his abilities, brushed off his talents as being of little consequence. Severus wished once again he had been able to find the Dursleys; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. But the order had done its job well, the awful family seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. That was probably a good thing as Harry didn’t need to lose his lover to Azkaban – which he almost certainly would do if Severus did ever find the family because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from killing them all.

“Look, Domine,” Harry said, so Severus did. “Look at the way he phrases some sentences. This one for example; ‘Now that your beautiful boy has killed his dark wizard.’ He knows Domine, he knows that I killed Voldemort! He doesn’t speculate, he states it like it’s accepted fact. And this sentence, he writes about the Bird Cherries and the long barrow. Did you know that there are lots of them around that area? Neolithic burial mounds. There is one at Godric’s Hollow. I could never understand it, you see, why would Apisus write to us like this? To you? What would be the point? We couldn’t write back or answer his questions. I think he wrote this to give us some clues on how to find him. I think that when he wrote this he already knew that I had killed Voldemort. Because we go back – because we had already gone back!”

Harry enthusiasm continued to mount and there was no longer a question of it being contained. It was fizzing out of him and he was barely able to sit still.

“When Katie and I got to Godric’s Hollow it seemed so familiar… it seemed like home. At first I thought it was because I had lived there when I was a baby. But it felt deeper than that. I really don’t have any memories of it… I really don’t! Then I realised. There are Bird Cherries there, they grow in abundance. The locals call it Gean Valley. Gean is another word for Wild Cherries. That was just like its Roman name, that is what Apisus called it,Prunusconvallium.

“It’s on the road to Bath and there is an ancient pub and a baker and a chemist shop. The locals say there have been Potters there since Roman times – oh, and a famed apothecary, too, whose potions recipes are still in use today. Apisus’ daughter married a man called Figulus! That means potter! Don’t you see Domine? They settled in Godric’s Hollow!”

Harry got out of bed, completely naked still, and went over to where he had folded his t-shirt and socks before Severus had vanished his jeans. Harry picked up a tarnished metal box. It was rusty in places, but the rust had not eroded the metal. It looked battered and very, very old.

Offering it to Severus, he sat on the edge of the bed and said, “I found this. I walked up to the burial mound, just as Apisus wrote that he did, to look down on the village below. When I was up there, I had this strange compulsion to dig and I did. I found a stick and broke the ground with it but finally had to use my bare hands. Katie’d stayed in the village at a little coffee shop and I’d walked up to the mound all alone. I sat there for what seemed like hours and I dug and dug until I found this box. I didn’t open it. I brought it here for us to open together.”

Severus gazed at the old box in amazement. There was no lock, which was not surprising, as such things had been unknown to Romans. Severus had always locked his boxes with spells. The box was beautiful. Though old and battered, it had been exquisitely worked with a strange variety of animals. Severus traced the engravings with his finger tops. The animals were a lion and a snake and a bee.

Severus didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t have said anything if he had known, his throat felt as though it had closed up again. Harry’s ideas couldn’t be right. The ‘evidence’ that Harry was presenting was circumstantial at best. It was insane. Although his mind was still in denial, in his heart Severus knew that Harry was right. They had gone back… would go back… and this box would help them do so.

Albus had apparently destroyed the notes for creating a Crux Temporus, that and the potion and anything else that would allow someone to travel back far enough to alter the course of history. But that couldn’t stop Severus. He had invented the whole process to begin with and he knew exactly what to do. No one in this modern day world could duplicate what had been accomplished, no one but Severus, himself.

It was mad to believe in this, mad to attempt to go through the whole process again, and yet, Severus felt his heart soaring.

“Can we try?” Harry asked earnestly. “Can we at least open the box, see what’s inside?”

“I think that is the very least that we can do.” Severus told him, at last unable to keep from smiling when Harry fairly beamed with delight.

The box sprang open when Severus said the word apis, the first word he tried. Severus’ heart lurched. The box had to have been sealed by Apisus, who else would have used that word as a magical seal? Inside were a motley assortment of things: a small glass bottle, a few coins wearing the head of Vispasian. Finally there was just one more coin left, nestled in velvet, much larger than the rest, which was inscribed ‘Aquae Sulis’ and was dated nineteen years from the end of the first century. It was exquisitely carved and solid silver, it was perfect. It could be their Crux Temporus. There was also a folded piece of parchment which contained a short note and three fine dark hairs – hairs that Severus knew instinctively belonged to Harry.

Apisus had used a simple spell which along with Harry’s own hair, must have been what called to him, caused him to search for the box. It was not enough to bind him but would have caused a compulsion as soon as Harry had come close enough.

The parchment was a short note that had just three words written upon it ‘Tempus Fugit Retrorsum’… Time Flies Backwards.

“See Domine? See?” Harry was saying, babbling now as he tried to prove his theory to Severus.

Severus couldn’t speak. He sat examining the contents of the box, taking great care not to touch them with his bare hands. After a brief look he raised his wand and sealed them with a stasis spell to stop them becoming corrupted by this time.

They had the means to return, he and Harry. They had returned, how else would Apisus have had Harry’s hair to use in his spell? They not only had the means but they would use them, had used them? Not to return to exactly the time and place they had left, but to somewhere that was as close as they could possibly be without crossing their own timeline or causing a paradox.

“This will not take us back to Rome,” he told Harry. “We’ll be in Roman Britain and we’d have to travel a long, long way if we wanted to get back to Rome.” Severus felt a strong need to play Devil’s advocate. The stakes were too high for him to just say yes; he had to ensure that Harry understood things would be different.

“I know, Domine. Roman Britain would be fine,” Harry said. “I liked Godric’s Hollow. I could almost see the Roman buildings in my mind’s eye. The weather is not like Rome, but the Southwest is warm enough – it’s warmer than here, anyway.” The boy shivered slightly, wrapping his arms around himself. “Besides, that’s where all our family and friends will be. I wouldn’t want to be in Rome if they were all in Prunusconvallium.”

“You do realize, Harry,” warned Severus, “that everyone will be much older than when we left them in Rome. Some may even have passed away by the time we get there.”

“No they won’t!” Harry protested. “Apisus said in the letter that they were aging more slowly because of the magic, and Dumbledore was much older than any of them are… er… will be… er… were - whatever!

“Besides, wouldn’t you love to see Apisus again, even if he is older than you now? We know he was alive when he wrote the letter and that is the final proof.”

Harry was desperately trying to convince Severus, he bit his lip as if pondering what else to say. Then he tensed and peered hard at the large gold coin that Severus had just put into stasis.

Suddenly he was looking up at Severus again, eyes shining with a sort of fierce joy.

“Look at the dates Domine! Look! In the letter Apisus writes about his family and their children and what they are doing. They are all healthy and well and happy. He says so.” Harry jabbed a finger at the parchment that Severus still held in his hand. “Please, Domine,” he continued. “It proves things even more. Read the letter, look at the coin, compare the dates!

For a moment Severus felt puzzled and then he realised what Harry was talking about. According to the date inscribed on the large gold coin it had been minted a mere nineteen years before the end of the first century. The letter bore a date penned in Apisus’ own handwriting that was eighteen years from the end of the century. Of course Roman dates were difficult to translate. At the time that Apisus was writing the standard method of marking time was ab urbe conditâ - after the foundation of the city of Rome, which had become unwieldy and confusing, especially after Julius Caesar had reformed the calendar. More often the Romans marked time by the number of years that an Emperor had been ruling. The coin bearing the name Aquae Sulis seem to have been minted to celebrate the accession of Domitian, which was AD 81 by modern reckoning. The letter, on the other hand, bore a notation stating that it had been written in the second year of Domitian’s rule – AD 82. The coins with Vespasian’s image had to be, at the very least, three years older.

Severus was once again struck by how intelligent Harry was, to be able to correctly work out the dates without even looking it up. They had discussed the Flavian Dynasty when they had first read the letter together, but nevertheless Harry had remembered the timeline well and Severus determined to tell him so - when he had thought through all the information that Harry had presented him with.

If Harry was right and if the coin was indeed going to be their Crux Temporus, if they were going to go back in time to the date on the coin and, if the date on the letter was correct, then the missive had not yet been written when he and Harry had returned. Apisus had written it a year later. The note in the box was hurried, the writing scrawled as if it had been written without much thought, in somewhat of a rush. The items in the box had been assembled with care, but the note seemed an afterthought.

Apisus letter on the other hand was long and detailed, must surely have taken a while to write. It seemed to be targeted specifically at Severus, tempting him to return with hints of the home that awaited him, of the pupil that he could help and support. Why else did Apisus mention Modia’s grandson specifically by name? Harry had no idea who Aurelius Ambrosius, also called Merddyn, might conceivably be, hadn’t even mentioned it. No, that part of the letter, at least, was aimed directly at himself. The description had led Harry back to Godric’s Hollow, caused him to recognize it. But the hints about Merddyn? They were for Severus, just in case he was tempted to refuse.

Then a thought occurred to him, Apisus would have no idea who Merddyn might be any more than Harry did, how could he unless someone had told him? There was only one person who could have helped Apisus include so much information guaranteed to whet Severus’ desire to return. He could almost picture himself talking to Apisus, suggesting what hints and teases to include, perhaps the letter was so right for Severus because he himself helped compose it?

Harry had been watching him closely, whilst he pondered his lover’s words. He must have tracked Severus’ thoughts as they flitted across his face. Because Harry’s worried expression suddenly lightened as he sensed victory and it was as if someone had turned on the sun after a long, dark night.

“See?” Harry crowed. “See, I’m right aren’t I? You can’t deny it!”

Severus gave the cheeky brat a glare but couldn’t argue the point so he remained silent. It was good to see Harry happy again, it made him realise how long it had been since he had last seen Harry like that. He had no doubt that Apisus was still alive, or rather had still been alive and had prepared and buried the box. The magic signature definitely felt like his and the parchment was written in his hand. Severus couldn’t help but recognise it, having seen it often enough when Apisus had been learning to write and, of course, having read it time after time in the letter that he still held tightly. Harry was indeed right, the letter was dated a year later, so that meant that Apisus and Modia, Hermia and Rufus, all of them… all of them were still alive and healthy in the time minted on the coin.

Now that he was convinced it was possible, Severus wanted to return to ancient times as much, if not more, than Harry. But he knew of one more obstacle, one more reason that might prevent their return and this reason affected Harry most of all. Harry had to be the one to decide and Severus must abide by that decision.

“Harry, there is one more thing you must think about before making a decision; if we go back you will be a nobody again, I never got around to freeing you before we left, I never thought that I would need to as we were coming back. I only have MY citizen papers. You will still have to be my slave – at least until I can make up some documentation or arrange to free you.”

“Do you think that I care about that?” Harry asked urgently. “So what if I am a slave there. I am just commodity here, too; since I defeated Voldemort everyone I meet wants a piece of me, one way or another. They want me to endorse things, pose with them for endless photos, read about my life in minute detail. Once I started to play Quidditch it got worse! And since the World Cup?” Harry shuddered. “You saw the Daily Prophet today?”

Severus nodded.

“I never wanted this,” Harry continued. “I just did what I had to do as seeker and do my best for the team. Now the public has gotten so aggressive the team has Aurors assigned wherever we are staying. They follow us around, for my supposed protection. I got into real trouble for giving ‘my guardians’ the slip so I could go to Godric’s Hollow.

“This isn’t living. The only place that I feel safe is here with you, but our relationship is frowned upon because of the age difference and the fact that you used to be my teacher. I am twenty-three years old, for Circes’ sake, but everyone thinks I’m only nineteen. I’m watched constantly – supposedly to keep me safe. I have ‘obligations’ to fulfil, at least according to the coach and my agent! Did you know they got me an agent? They want me to do a full page spread in Witch Weekly!” Harry shuddered again.

“I am supposed to be free here, but I’m not really. My decisions have to be based on what is best for the team, or for the promotion of Quidditch, or for the whole fucking Wizarding World!”

Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself, to still his agitation. Severus wanted to hold him, tell him that he didn’t have to do those things that they could go somewhere far away and be together. But in truth he knew that they could not; Harry was just too well known. He didn’t think there was anywhere on earth that they could go and be alone, just the two of them (at least not in this ‘time’). Eventually Harry would be recognized and the whole circus would start again.


“At least the Romans are honest!” Harry said bitterly. “I knew what was expected of me and what would happen if I broke the ‘rules’. There, I belonged to you and you kept me safe. I know that you want me, Harry, not some imaginary hero. I just want to be normal, have a life where I can just be me and not some icon that everyone wants to have a little bit of. Please, Domine, let’s investigate it at least. I want to go home.”

Harry’s voice broke on the last word.

And Severus knew that he couldn’t deny him, even if he wished to, which he didn’t. He wanted to go back, too. He hadn’t thought much about what it had been like for Harry over the last three years. He had assumed that Harry was enjoying the glamorous life he was leading, seeing interesting places and meeting new people. But now that he looked at his boy, he could see that Harry was dying by degrees. The sparkle in his green eyes, that had been so evident earlier, was already more subdued. Just a little longer and Harry himself might start to disappear. Harry looked worried, anxious, his natural ebullience was slowly being eroded away.

“When I found the book and worked out the clues, I was sure that you would say yes. I thought we could go home!” Harry’s eyes had started to glisten with unshed tears. “I thought that you would want to go back, that we did go back. Oh please, Severus?” Harry begged.

Severus gasped. Harry had never called him Severus, not once in the three years since their return. He was ‘Domine’ to Harry, he had always been Domine.

Severus didn’t speak, he just reached out and grabbed his young lover.

“Of course we will, of course we’ll go back! Apisus has left us the means and the potion can be ready in a week. I want to go back, too, Harry! I just had to be sure you really wanted it also – and that you understand all that going back will entail.”

The relief was apparently too much for Harry and he buried his face against Severus’ chest… he was sobbing. Harry, who had only truly cried twice before in all the time that Severus had known him, was crying like a lost child.

So Severus just sat and held him until, after what seemed like hours, all the tears had been shed and Harry slept, curled against him as he had so many times before. As the day drew to a close and dusk invaded the room, Severus sat looking out at the hills opposite their bedroom window and began to make plans.


**********


In the end it was nearly six weeks before they were ready to leave and Severus couldn’t wait. As soon as Harry had told the coach of the Quidditch team that he was planning to stop playing it was as if the world went mad.

They were bombarded with owls, begging Harry to reconsider and return on the one hand and then condemning him for abandoning his obligations to the Wizarding public on the other. Howlers also began arriving for Severus almost hourly, showering him with condemnation in an ever increasing fervour for stealing their hero away. Severus tried his best to ignore it all as he went about his preparations for departure. After all, it was the exact reaction he had expected.

Harry, on the other hand, angered by what he considered unwarranted and unfair reactions from both his team and the public in general, sent for his things and refused to make any further public appearances at all. He had led England to victory for the first time in hundreds of years. He had revived the fortunes of the Cannons, who now had a very able reserve seeker whom Harry had trained personally. He had even died for them in his efforts to rid the Wizarding World of Voldemort. If that wasn’t enough, it was just too fucking bad – Harry Potter, for the first time in 23 years was taking his life into his own hands and pleasing no one but himself (and consequently, a very snarky Slytherin Potions Master).

They told very few people where, or rather when, they were going. Only Minerva, Granger and Weasley, and, strangely enough, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were told the entire truth.

Granger’s eyes had filled with tears as Harry told her and Weasley their decision. “But, Harry,” she had whispered, “we’ll never see you again!”

“It’s what you want though, right?” Ron had said. asked, with a sad but understanding expression. And ever since that conversation, Severus had started calling him by his given name. Ron’s reaction to their news had proven that he was a true friend. “Harry isn’t happy here, Hermione. And he is never going to be. When we were kids I thought that fame would be wonderful, but it’s destroying you isn’t it mate? Hardly a day goes by that there isn’t something about you splashed all over the papers. That’s no sort of life – you can’t even pop over to Diagon Alley for an ice cream without being mobbed. And you love Snape, don’t you mate; that’s frowned upon here, too. It must hurt something fierce hearing him vilified all the time because of you?”

Harry had taken a deep breath and nodded.

“But, Ron, we don’t do that!” Granger had been indignant.

Severus knew that she had tried to be supportive in her own way. Still he always had the feeling that he, Severus, repulsed her and that secretly she longed for Harry to find someone younger and more ‘suited’ to Harry. Of course, she could never openly admit to such feelings, not with her liberal upbringing. But that just made things deeply uncomfortable whenever Severus was around as the poor girl tried to reconcile her feelings with her beliefs.

“No, we don’t,” Ron had agreed. “But we don’t exactly go out of our way to welcome Professor Snape into our home either. When was the last time they came over?”

“We saw Harry just a few weeks ago!” Granger objected.

“Exactly!” the redhead replied. “Harry, not them together, just Harry. When you got back I did a bit of reading,” he continued, transferring his attention to Snape and ignoring the twin looks of astonishment that Harry and Granger shared. “I wanted to know what it was all about… erm… you know… this thing about relationships between boys and older men. I learned it was different there. They had very different beliefs from ours. I don’t say I agree with them all, but it was called pederasty and it was acceptable in those days, encouraged even. As long as there was no abuse involved. Harry isn’t going to be your slave this time, though, is he?” Ron turned to look at Severus then, weighing him up with a gaze that was surprisingly shrewd.

“He might have to be for a short while,” Severus had told him. “Just until I can sort out some paperwork. We were lucky last time, but on this occasion I want to do things properly. Be assured, however, that I will not abuse him in any way.” Ron had continued to stare at him for a little longer and then nodded once, as if satisfied by Severus’ answer.

He had walked over to Harry then and pulled him into his arms. “I wasn’t always the best friend to you, mate,” he’d said. “But I love you just about more than anyone, except perhaps Hermione. If you think that going back in time will make you happy then it’s fine with me, but I will miss you every day for the rest of my life.”

After that statement Granger had crumbled, too.

Longbottom had been surprisingly supportive. He had told Harry that he supported his choice and that he reckoned Severus had hidden depths.

Luna Lovegood just nodded, smiled at them sagely and said, “Well, of course you are going back, after all, you still have work to do.”

Minerva understood better than anyone it seemed; she hadn’t even questioned them. She had just hugged Severus close and told Harry to look after him for her.

**************

On the day they left, it seemed as though most of their friends came to see them off, even though it was still quite early in the morning. A light summer mist was decorating the lake and all the world seemed expectant and still. They had already said goodbye to their rooms which, though comfortable, with stunning views, had never been quite the home that their shop in Rome had become. Severus had wandered from room to room, saying goodbye to things that they could not take with them for fear of altering the timeline, whilst Harry took an exultant Flea for her final walk, in this time at least. They had waited until she had eaten her breakfast and curled up for a sleep in her favourite battered chair before transforming her, once again into a smooth yellow pebble which Severus stowed carefully away in Harry’s backpack for the journey to the past. Severus could not even think about leaving Harry’s little dog behind. The boy had lost his beloved Hedwig in tragic circumstances and Severus was determined to do everything in his power to ensure that he did not lose Flea. She had survived the journey once before, there was no reason whatsoever to believe that she would not do so again.

The official story that they had told everyone, except for a select few, was that they were going into retreat in the southwest of England – which, of course, they were. They had merely left out the time travel aspect of it. Hagrid had been sobbing into a large, checked handkerchief which Severus suspected had once been a tablecloth. Ginny Weasley was crying, too, supported by Neville Longbottom. They suited each other remarkably well, Severus thought, perhaps with Harry gone they would have a future together?

Molly Weasley surprised him by hugging him and telling him to take care of himself and Arthur shook his hand vigorously, seemingly unable to think of anything to say. Severus wondered if the distance between them had been as much their fault as the fault of the Weasleys. He suspected they had not made all the effort that they might have done, because all the time they had been here, in their hearts, they had wished to be elsewhere.

The small crowd of well wishers followed them to the station where they caught the train south, each of them carrying a small rucksack which was, nevertheless, crammed with their belongings, including a sizable amount of gold.

Harry had gifted much of his inheritance to Tonks and her son. She, too, stood on the station platform clutching her little boy, with his shock of bright blue hair, tightly by the hand as they waved goodbye.

Harry waved back eagerly, his equilibrium seemingly restored now that they were finally going home. Turning away from the figures on the platform, Harry smiled lovingly at Severus and Severus’ heart soared as he relaxed at last. Finally the journey they had been planning for many weeks had begun. They were going home at last.

*************


The journey seemed to take forever, with a long delay at Perth and changes at Edinburgh and Birmingham, but at last they were in Bath. They stayed overnight in a tiny guest house, Harry having to remain hidden under his invisibility cloak because as soon as he had been spotted he had been accosted by a small group of giggling girls and later by a larger group of Quidditch fans. Severus could easily understand why Harry had become so frustrated and could barely restrain himself from hexing them. Luckily growling at them and bestowing his best sneer upon them had been enough to see them off, at least for awhile.

From Bath they Apparated. Harry took Severus as a side-along passenger and they arrived totally accident and pain free.

Godric’s Hollow was quite simply beautiful. Together they looked at the memorial to Harry’s parents and visited the little cottage where Harry had been orphaned and then, hand in hand and uncaring as to who saw them, they slowly made their way up the nearby hill to visit the long barrow.

There was a small copse of trees nearby. The blossoms had all disappeared this late in the summer, but they were undoubtedly wild cherries. It was to this small belt of trees that they retreated and changed into tunics and cloaks.

Severus felt like he could breathe again once he had changed; finally he felt free. Harry was wearing a red tunic this time round, one that Severus had forgotten about. It only covered one shoulder and left a lot of flesh somewhat exposed. Severus sighed. Harry looked totally delectable. This tunic was almost as short as the ones that Harry had worn when he first came to Rome. This time, however, it was deliberate on Harry’s part. It appeared that he didn’t want to hide from anyone now – he wanted the world to see that he belonged to Severus.

“Just you wait until later, brat!” Severus told him, slipping easily into Latin, not even noticing the transition. “Trying to arouse me!”

Harry grinned.

“Looks like I have succeeded, my Dominus!” he said somewhat smugly.

Severus hoped that it would not be too long before they found somewhere to stay once they arrived in the past, because he desperately wanted to ravish Harry, something which Harry seemed to understand and relish.

He sat on a tree trunk and watched Harry fasten the wand belt that Octavius had made him around his waist and then bend over to lace his sandals. They were brown leather and had long cords which wrapped several times around Harry’s leg, decorating the flesh, and Severus wished he could take them off again, slowly, inch by inch and nibble those delicious toes. Harry’s feet were as irresistible to him now as they had always been.

Finally, Harry stood. They were ready to leave but before they took even one short step there was a rustling in the undergrowth and a young female roe deer stepped into the clearing. For several seconds they watched each other, her large liquid brown eyes examining them closely. At last she seemed to nod as if wishing them well and then she turned away and faded back into the shadows. . Severus heart lightened even more as he turned back to look at Harry.


It was colder on the hill. A cool breeze was blowing, causing Harry’s skin to pebble with goose bumps.

“It is not as warm as Rome, hmm, my little slave?” Severus teased.

Harry grinned again, his happiness bubbling to the surface like a geyser. “You’ll just have to warm me up again, won’t you, Domine?”

“I surely will.” Severus said with fervour.

They reached a part of the barrow that still bore faint signs where Harry had dug down for the box and stopped. The village below them seemed to be sleeping its way into the evening. Somewhere in the distance a fox barked, but otherwise the late afternoon was silent.

Harry smiled. “Well, this is it.”

“This is it.” Severus repeated. “Are you ready for a new beginning, my Harry?”

“Oh yes!” Harry said enthusiastically, his green eyes alight with excitement.

He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close and the young man wrapped his own slim arm around Severus’ waist. Severus held out the coin and Harry placed his smaller hand over the top.

If this worked there would be no turning back. On this occasion their rucksacks contained almost nothing from this time at all, just some tunics, some potions, to keep them going until Severus could make more, some gold and, nestled at the bottom of Harry’s rucksack, a certain little yellow dog transformed into a pebble yet again. Harry had brought his precious album, though it was well hidden with its true nature obscured, and one or two other items that they could not bear to leave behind. Their wands were fastened in their pouches, hanging from their belts, handy in case they should need them. They’d wanted nothing else.

Severus looked down at his lover. “Ready, Harry?” he asked.

Harry nodded, and together they said the words that would take them home.

“Tempus Fugit Retrorsum”

Then the world around them began to spin and everything turned black as the spell did its job one last time and took them both back home to the past.

Finis


A/N

Before you flame me there will be a sequel!

Severus and Harry just didn’t want to live in the 21st century and they refused to stay! I have loved writing this story as it encompasses my two favourite things; Snarry and Roman history. I have notes for a series of vignettes set during the four years that Severus and Harry lived in Rome so I will post them as I write them and I promise I’ll write the sequel! However I do have two WIPs to finish first and I will probably do the same as I did with this story and post it when it is complete, so it won’t be up for a while yet.

In case anyone is interested in the historical bit, it is still possible to visit the Roman Baths at Aquae Sulis which is now called Bath. Adelard did exist around about 1100 and he did translate and transcribe a number of documents. Isca Augusta is now called Caerleon and the remains of the Roman fort can still be seen. Caerleon is one of the many places in Britain which is rumoured to be the site where Camelot might have stood, so it seems fitting to have had Merddyn born there.

As for Godric’s Hollow. JKR doesn’t tell us where it is, other than to state that it is in the southwest of England. I have sited it near the ancient main road to London, which is now the A303 which passes close to Stonehenge. There are a number of Longbarrows in this part of the country so I set one near Godric’s Hollow so that Apisus would have a point of reference as the countryside would have changed a lot in 2,000 years.

According to the HP Lexicon Godric Gryffindor was born around about the tenth century, 1,000 years ago. The name Godric was a Saxon name and was, apparently, rarely used after the Normans arrived in 1066.

In Hollywood movies, Camelot always seems to be set during the time of the Normans, but if Arthur did exist he was possibly a Romano-Celtic chieftain who could have ruled sometime during the 600 years after Romans left when Britain was constantly raided by Saxons and Vikings and written history was quite sketchy for a few hundred years!

Thanks for reading ~ Lucie.